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sooniebby · 1 month ago

Note

Hey Danny!

A lot of people are asking for another Ito Yuki fic, and you mentioned you don't have any ideas. This isn't really a request, rather a suggestion...

Is Ito Yuki the jealous type? If he is...

So male reader is known as a player, right?. And basically, the idea is that his past conquests confront him, "why do I still see you with Ito Yuki when it's been more than a week?" And all that was happening. People also happen to continually confess to reader... This kinda builds up and leads to jealous sex, I guess? Oh, and you mentioned Ito Yuki also getting confessions, so maybe reader gets jealous, or Ito Yuki is trying to get reader jealous...

Idk, all this revolves around jealousy lol

It's all up to you-

Sorry if this isn't appealing in any way to you, just ignore me!

-♠️

ఌ 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐎𝐘

w.c › 9.1k

warning › This is an OC. His first post. Reader last name is Yoshida. Slut shamming. Homophobia. Decided to make jealousy more angsty/sad

plot › It’s been a month since you’ve been dating Ito Yuki, it’s great but you soon find out everyone in school isn’t exactly happy about that.

kinks › praise, manhandling, semi-public sex, marking, creampie

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

“You’re joking. No way in hell you’re no longer single!”

You smiled smugly, puffing out your chest.

That’s right, you, resident playboy, was officially taken. Your friends, Sana and Ryun stared at you for a moment before they began to laugh. You frowned as they continued laughing, obviously not believing you.

“It’s true!” You whined, pouting your lips. “It—Yuki even said he’s been into me since our freshman year!”

“Why would he be into you?” Ryun asked, wiping at a stray tear from his face. It couldn’t be that funny!

Sana sighed, rubbing at her chest. “Yeah, no offense, Yoshida-Kun, but you aren’t exactly relationship material!”

“I can be relationship material.” You muttered, mainly to yourself. Usually you never felt attacked by Ryun and Sana’s words but this time you couldn’t help feeling oddly offended.

Were you really not relationship material?

A knock on the door caused you to turn your attention to the front of the classroom. Everyone in the classroom got ready to sit as the teacher began to start the lesson.

But you couldn’t pay attention. Well it’s not like you ever do.

All you could think about was Sana and Ryun’s words.

When it was finally lunch, you shot up from your desk, startling Ryun and Sana. You grabbed your bento box and sent them a playful wink.

“I got a date! Enjoy lunch without me, losers!” You teased, rushing out of the classroom. Your feet pattered against the ground as you practically dodged every student who got in your way.

A wide grin spread on your lips when you came face to face with your date: Ito Yuki. He was standing by the stairs, looking down at his phone when he heard your loud footsteps.

He glanced up to see you sprinting to him with the widest smile ever. Your cheeks hurt as you waved excitedly. Yuki only lifted his hand slightly to wave before you skid to a stop right in front of him. Well, tried to. It was hard to stop on recently mopped floors.

“Watch out!” You cried out, anyone in your path quickly moving to the side.

Just as you were ready to tumble down the stairs, Yuki easily caught you by the collar of your sweater. You let out a sigh of relief as he tugged you back up. Yuki raised an eyebrow as you gave him a thankful grin.

“Aw~ You saved me!” You giggled, teasingly poking his cheek. To anyone else, Yuki must’ve looked annoyed but for the whole month you two have been dating, you could see the slight smile on his lips.

“You can’t run in the halls,” he said, spoken like a true student council president. You only gave him an apologetic smile. You’d run in the halls again.

“Rooftop?”

“Mhm.”

You grabbed Yuki’s wrist and began tugging him up the stairs to the rooftop. He followed right behind you, occasionally telling you to slow down or you’d trip. The rooftop wasn’t empty with a few other students eating there but you didn’t care.

As you glanced around, trying to decide a perfect spot, Yuki subtly grasped your hand. You looked over as he guided you to a more secluded area. It was on the side of the entrance. Everyone else sat more to the middle of the rooftop.

You plopped down onto the ground as Yuki knelt down beside you. The two of you didn’t say anything for the first few minutes as you ate in silence.

With anyone else, you would’ve felt odd.

But with Yuki, sitting in silence was calming.

“Ah.” You hummed, swallowing a big bite you took of your onigiri. “What do you want to do when we reach our six month anniversary?”

“Hm. I’ll think about it.” Yuki said, reaching over to wipe something off your cheek. “You eat like a child. How did you get some people to sleep with you.”

You grinned, using your free hand to tug down your sweater to show off your collarbone. “With my sexy looks~”

“Cover up or I’ll fuck you right here.”

“Yuki!” You blushed. It was hard getting used to the fact Yuki was more perverted than he let on. You’d think being a playboy would meant you’d have a higher sex drive but it honestly felt like Yuki was insatiable.

“The school festival is in four days. What is your class doing?” Yuki asked, changing the subject. You fixed your sweater before stealing an egg roll from Yuki’s bento box. He only smacked your hand away when you tried to reach for another one.

“We’re doing a monster themed cafe! I’m going to be a werewolf barista.” You said, grinning.

“Will you wear a maid outfit?”

“Pervert… No. I’m a barista! I’ll be in pants.”

Yuki looked disappointed. You only shook your head. The two of you continued eating lunch talking about random things before the warning bell rang. You mentioned skipping to Yuki and he practically stared at you as if you said you wanted to kill his mother.

When you two walked downstairs, you were about to walk away to your classroom when Yuki gripped your arm. You hummed, looking back to ask what was wrong when lips pressed against yours.

Your eyes widen as you stared at him, unable to kiss back. He pulled away and his usual slight smile pulled on his lips.

“Wait for me by the school gate after classes. I’ll walk you home.” He said.

“Don’t you…”

“I’ll skip.”

You watched as he walked away, entering his classroom. You would’ve stayed standing there until the bell rang again. That was your cue to quickly get to class.

Though you only thought about Yuki the entire time. You two weren’t exactly hiding your relationship but Yuki was heavily against public affection and you weren’t going to push it. The most he did was hold your hand.

That was the first time he ever kissed you in public, even if the hallway was empty when he did. The fact he did made you giddy.

To think you were missing out on the little things by only being with people for just a week.

You had previously feared you’d get tired of Yuki but you didn’t want to leave him at all.

Ito Yuki had your heart at this point.

You absentmindedly doodled little hearts on your workbook, not noticing sharp eyes watching you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Hey, ready to walk home?” Ryun asked.

You shook your head, a giddy smile on your face as you clutched your school bag close to your chest. “No can do! I’m going home with Yuki. See ya!” You didn’t wait for him or Sana to answer, rushing out of the classroom.

There was a pep in your step as you changed your school shoes to your sneakers, humming to yourself. You closed the shoe locker shut, turning around only to gasp to see someone behind you.

“Holy!!! Katori..?” You whispered, staring at the boy in shock. A nervous smile pulled on your lips as you bowed your head in a polite greeting.

Katori was one of your former dates. It lasted the usual week back in your second year. Though it had gotten a bit awkward when he ended up being in your class this year. Always so awkward when that unfortunately happened.

He was handsome, that’s why you had sought him out. Tanned skin from playing baseball. An average height of 175 cm (nothing compared to Yuki’s 183 cm). Spiky black hair and sharp eyes.

You and Katori haven’t exactly talked. Well you usually never talked to any of your past dates. Too awkward. Katori’s face looked slightly angry? His eyebrows were furrowed while his jaw was clenched.

“Are you okay…?” You asked, tilting your head.

“I saw you with Ito Yuki.” Was all he said, his gaze narrowed in on you.

“Really?” You muttered, confusion written on your face. “What—?”

“—He kissed you. It’s been over a month since you asked him out.”

“You saw that?”

“It was out in the open.” Katori looked at you as if you were an idiot. “Besides that, why are you and Ito still together? Didn’t you tell me you don’t date?”

You frowned. “What? Why does that matter now? I told you that last year. I can change.”

The sound of banging caused your body to freeze up as Katori slammed his fist against the shoe lockers behind you. You stared at him with wide eyes, feeling the remaining students look at the outburst in shock.

“Someone like you changing? Listen here, I don’t know if you know this, but Ito is a friend of mine. I don’t want you leading him on when all you’ve ever been was the school’s resident slut, got it?”

A friend? Yuki was friends with Katori? You never noticed. You were a bit self-centered at times but Yuki never really mentioned his friends to you. Ryun and Sana had other friends that you don’t remember the faces of.

“Resident slut..?” You whispered. You knew your reputation wasn’t exactly the best but was that what everyone thought of you? The fact no one was even helping, just staring at you was telling enough.

Did even Sana and Ryun feel that way about you?

“Katori.” A voice called out, catching everyone’s attention. Everyone looked over to see Yuki walking over. You could see Sana and Ryun right behind him, a shocked look on their faces.

You almost felt embarrassed.

Katori pulled away from you. “Ito—”

“—Just because schools over doesn’t mean you can’t get in trouble for fighting.” Yuki said, moving to stand in front of you. A thankful sigh left you as you felt safe with Yuki acting like a barrier.

“Seriously?” Katori rolled his eyes. “Are you dating him, Ito?”

“Yes.” Gasps rung through the students. You couldn’t help but grin. Yuki didn’t even hesitate.

“I never thought you’d fall for his nonsense. Sleeping around with everyone in the school, he probably has diseases by now.” Katori shook his head. A few snickers were heard. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you stared down at your sneakers.

“Yet you slept with him during your second year, having known his reputation. I’m not childish enough to care.”

Katori looked up at Yuki in shock. “Are you—? Are you seriously defending him?”

“He’s my boyfriend. You were my friend.” Yuki reached behind himself and grabbed your hand, tugging you forward. He reached down and kissed your forehead. “Mind your own business next time, Katori-San.”

With that, Yuki opened his shoe locker and changed into his outdoor shoes. He didn’t even spare anyone else a glance as he dragged you out the school’s front door. It took a moment before you began to keep up with his brisk pace.

The walk home was silent but somehow still comfortable.

It wasn’t until you were only a minute away from your home that Yuki finally said something.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry he embarrassed you.”

You hummed. “It’s okay… I’m guessing he saw you kiss me in the hallway. I hope I don’t bring down your reputation.”

“I don’t care about my reputation if it comes with the cost of hurting you.”

Your eyes widen as you glanced up at Yuki, your cheeks feeling warm. Yuki was staring straight ahead, his hand tightening its’ grip on yours.

The rest of the walk home was quiet—you couldn’t say anything. You reached your house just a second later. Just before you walked inside, you leaned on your toes to press a kiss on Yuki’s lips before rushing inside.

It felt as if your heart was beating out of your chest after kissing him. You felt happy.

But despite his reassurance, you couldn’t help but think about what happened earlier.

Did.. everyone really view you with such disgust..?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

The school festival was in two days. Your class was excitedly getting ready for the monster themed cafe. You were helping a classmate pick out what sweets he should get to sell when Sana tapped you on the shoulder.

You excused yourself, following her out of the classroom. Ryun was standing there as well, a frown on his face. This couldn’t be good.

You three haven’t exactly been on talking terms.

It was childish to not talk it out with them but you weren’t exactly in the mood. Or at the very least you wanted some time to gather your thoughts before bringing it up to them.

Looks like you’d get your chance.

“You’ve been avoiding us.” Sana said bluntly, crossing her arms across her chest. “What gives?”

“Yeah, are you embarrassed about what happened on Monday with Katori? It’s nothing new.” Ryun sighed. Sana quickly glared at him as you tilted your head.

“Nothing new..? What do you mean?”

Sana shook her head. “People have been talking behind your back since second year.” She admitted. “No one has ever said it out loud to your face before though.”

“You guys knew and didn’t tell me?”

Ryun shrugged. “It wasn’t like it was rumors. It was only things that were true. Besides, Sana and I always tease you about being a slut anyway.”

Your jaw clenched as you glared at them. “You two are my friends! They are strangers! You were really allowing them to say those things without defending me?”

“What would we say, Yoshida?” Sana asked. “You were sleeping around and everyone was curious to how you somehow hadn’t had any STDs.”

“I practice safe sex!” You whisper-yelled, not wanting to attract a crowd. “Did you not think that it would hurt my feelings to learn that almost everyone in this school had a problem with me?”

“Well what did you expect?!” Ryun suddenly cut in. “You’re a playboy, how is everyone supposed to think about you? Sleeping with a new person each week since first year is insane, Yoshida!”

“Is that really the only reason you haven’t been talking to us?” Sana asked. “Because Katori hurt your feelings?”

“Hurt—? I’d like you to be able to be called a slut in front of everyone else and just bounce back with ease!” You didn’t notice a few of your classmates beginning to pay attention to the little spat in the hallway. “You’re my friends, I shouldn’t have to explain that to you!”

“Are we really your friends? Because you won’t even allow us to call you by your first name. But Ito Yuki can after only talking to you for a month. What’s with that, huh?” Ryun spat out, inching close to you.

You frowned. “I told you before! Hearing my first name is weird! Not even my parents call me by my first name. I only recently started getting used to hearing it because of Yuki.”

“It’s like you’re ditching us for your new plaything.” Sana sighed, shaking her head. “What? Is he that good in bed? We’ve always been there for you, what happened, huh? Did sleeping around cause your brain to turn into jelly?”

“I doubt your relationship with him will last long,” Ryun cut in. “You’ll get bored soon and find a new shiny tool. You told us before, sticking with the same person gets boring. A slut like you needs new engagement all the time.

“Will you really cling so hardly on Ito when even he can drop you at any time? He has girls always chasing after him. Who’s to say he won’t get uncomfortable about how everyone talks about you?”

Sana nodded. “It was getting hard being your friend. The rumors were beginning to spread onto us. Sluts hang out together, that’s what they were saying. Ito Yuki is too good for you, do you really want to drag him down with you like you dragged us down?”

You stared at Sana and Ryun in shock, their words beginning to tune out. It felt like a tsunami had passed through you. Was this how they fault all this time? When they were joking around with you—was it how they truly felt this entire time?

It was too much. Your eyes flickered over to your classroom door to see your classmates staring at you. Katori there as well, staring at you with a wide smirk. You looked down at your shoes, your breathing getting heavy.

“Oi!” A voice suddenly yelled, catching everyone’s attention. The classmate you were speaking to earlier about what sweets to buy was suddenly standing in front of you.

He glared at Sana and Ryun before turning his attention over to your nosy classmates. “Mind your own business!! You guys haven’t finished decorating!” He yelled. The students quickly rushed back into the classroom.

Sana blinked. “Suzuki-San?”

Suzuki looked back over at you three. “If you wanted to have a private conversation with Yoshida, you shouldn’t have done it in the fucking hallway! Scram, I gotta talk to Yoshida about actual important stuff, like our school festival that is on Friday!” He glared at them before they reluctantly walked back into the classroom.

You kept your gaze down as Suzuki patted you on the back.

“Thanks.” You muttered.

“It was nothing. Living in a small town makes them hungry for any sort of drama,” Suzuki laughed. “You’re the only interesting person in this whole school.”

Your gaze flicked up to Suzuki as you stared at his face. “Have I…?”

“No, no! I’m straight.”

“Oh. Why did you defend me?”

“What you do in the bedroom is none of my business. Besides, you wouldn’t be a playboy if no one took you up on your offers.” Suzuki gave you a smile. “Everyone who got with you knew who you were. I’ve seen people that slept with you even call you a slut. I think they’re just jealous you never wanted to date them.”

“Jealous?”

“Mhm. At first it was only a few people who constantly talked behind your back but ever since you and Ito-San started dating it’s gotten worse. A few of your exes are jealous they didn’t get to ‘tame’ you.”

“Tame?!” You gasped, the stray tears in your eyes being blinked away.

“Yeah.” Suzuki hummed. “Some people that slept with you had the goal of becoming your partner. I always wanted to tell you but I had no proof, only word of mouth. Add in with that it’s Ito Yuki, student council president who had a recent ‘glow-up’ in the eyes of the girls, everyone has a reason to be mad.”

You were shocked for the most part. People wanted to tame you? Gross. You shook your head at the thought. But your worst fear was true. Yuki’s reputation was being dragged down because of you.

“Have they been talking bad about Yuki?”

“Mhm. Especially Katori after Ito’s fight with him. Mainly people waiting until you give him a STD or you cheat on him. A few girls are upset that he’s gay, saying that you turned him… Whatever that means.”

Great. Absolutely great. You had knew that Yuki still got confessed to before he made it public that you were dating. Those girls never gave up even when Yuki turned them without a second thought. It wasn’t like you thought he’d cheat on you.

It was more so that maybe of those girls would be better for him.

“Thanks, Suzuki.” You whispered, wanting to just lay down.

“It’s nothing. I couldn’t be a bystander anymore.” Suzuki admitted. “You should get some water, I’ll tell the teacher when she comes back.”

You hummed and walked away, ready to chug some water from the water fountain. As you walked past some classrooms, you skid to stop in front of Yuki’s classroom.

You were curious to what they were doing for the school fair when you noticed some giggling. Your eyes landed in on a girl walking up to Yuki with a shy smile on her face. She was clutching a note to her chest as her friends practically pushed her to Yuki.

The girl would’ve fell had Yuki not caught her. He helped her to her feet and was about to turn his attention back to the board when she tugged on his sleeves. You could only watch as the other students began to coo and giggle, watching the girl get ready to confess.

You wanted to stop it but your feet felt glued to the ground. The girls friends began chanting “confess” over and over again before the girl finally blurted out her confession.

She was cute, typical girl next door. The boys beside Yuki began to cheer Yuki on, patting him on the back. Did.. Did they not know you were his fucking boyfriend? That Ito Yuki had a boyfriend?

Someone said something that you couldn’t hear properly. A few whispers ensue. You strained to hear them properly.

“Well, it’s not like Yoshida is known for staying with his partners for long.”

“Yeah, he’s probably just using Ito-Kun anyway.”

“Yoshida is so disgusting,” one of her friends laughed. “Why wouldn’t someone want Kaede-Chan! She isn’t infested with 1,000 STDs! Right, Ito-San?”

“Uhm, Ito-Kun… Are you really in love with Yoshida..?” Kaede whispered, her doe eyes staring up at Yuki. “I’ve had a crush on you since first year, I doubt Yoshida has liked you as long as I have. He probably doesn’t even know you like—”

You couldn’t hear anymore. You sprinted away.

Tears were streaming down your face as you ran up the stairs to the rooftop. You just wanted this cruel day to end. To think all these three years your school has viewed you as parasite the entire time. Your own friends was getting tired being your friend.

And you might lose your boyfriend to a girl that was better for him in the eye of the school hierarchy.

You bursted through the rooftop door and crashed into the walled fence. Your fingers gripped at it as you rest your forehead against the cool metal. Heavy hiccups left you as you tried to calm down.

Maybe if you had been normal.

If only you weren’t a playboy.

No matter, you’d set Ito Yuki free.

Even if you didn’t want to.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You clutched your school bag to your chest as you stood by the school gate. It had been two hours after school, you were waiting for Yuki to finish with his council president duties. He had texted you to go home but you hadn’t responded.

This needed to end.

“(Name)-Chan?”

Your heart fluttered as you looked back to see Yuki. He had his usual slight grin as he walked over to you. But it quickly dropped when he took in your puffy red eyes.

“What happened?” He asked, his hand reaching out to touch you but you quickly stepped away. His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at you. “Are you okay?”

You only nodded. “Yeah, I just. Uhm. We should break up.”

It was silent before Yuki let out a laugh. “Funny. What really happened?”

“No. We should break up.” You said louder, standing up straight.

Yuki’s fox like eyes narrowed as he stepped closer. “What the hell are talking about? You want to break up?”

“Yea, we aren’t compatible. We don’t even really know each other.”

“We were getting to know each other. Don’t give me bullshit reasons.”

“We just shouldn’t be together!”

“Why?!”

“Because I’m the school’s resident slut and you deserve someone like Kaede!” You yelled, feeling your eyes water as you quickly looked away. “Besides I’m… I’m bored. I’m used to having a new partner each week! I can’t.. I can’t stay with one guy.”

“Kaede—? Did you see the confession? I rejected her.”

“I knew you would…”

“Then what? You think that I really believe you can’t stay faithful? Who’s been feeding this bullshit to you?”

“It’s true! I’ve practically fucked everyone in this damn school, you were just another week. I.. I even talked about how virgins are the best partners!”

You looked back at Yuki, wanting to get this over with. But to your shock, Yuki almost looked hurt at your words. Fuck, you couldn’t just break things off easily, could you? You mentally cursed yourself for telling that when a grin pulled on Yuki’s lips.

It wasn’t a grin that reached his eyes.

“You act like I don’t know what type of person you were before I said yes. I even knew your fucking catchphrase! You think I didn’t know what you usually liked in a partner? Yoshida (Name), I’ve liked you since our first year, I only ever wanted you. I don’t care what everyone else thinks.”

You looked away, shaking your head. “We wouldn’t last anyway! I’m not the type of partner you would want to bring to your parents! I’m known as a slut by every student in this school, who’s to say no one else knows?! We’re not that big of a town!”

“(Name)…”

“Just let me break up with you before I drag you down with me.”

“You’re so childish.”

You bristled, biting your lip. “Whatever. We’re over.” You quickly walked away, not looking back even as Yuki called your name.

This was for the best, even if you didn’t want it to be.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Who pissed in your cereal?”

You glanced up from your pillow to see your mother staring at you with a bowl of noodles. She gently placed them on your desk and sat down on the chair, turning it to face you.

“What happened, Plum? You look miserable.”

You only whimpered, shaking your head. “I found out… that I’m the school’s resident slut..”

A slight laugh left your mother. “So? So was I.”

Your eyes widen. “What?”

“Mhm. I slept with almost every boy in my grade level. They were pretty bad for the most part. I didn’t stop until I met your dad in college.” Your mom said, sighing at the mention of your father. “A hunk. Great in bed—ah well you don’t need to know that.

“Wait, have they been bullying you? Do I need to visit the school?!” She asked, a frown on her face.

“No. That would be even more embarrassing.”

She sighed. “If you say so. But that can’t be the only reason.”

“I found out Sana and Ryun were spreading the rumors behind my back.”

“Excuse me?” A look of anger spread on her face as her upper lip turned up into a snarl. “I need to get their keys back. How dare they hurt my baby behind his back! Did anything else happen?!”

“I broke up with my boyfriend to protect his reputation.”

“Well that’s a bit dumb.”

You frowned, looking over at her. “What do you mean?”

“What I said. That’s dumb. Who cares about high school reputation? Was your boyfriend bothered by you being called the school’s slut?”

“No…”

“Then what makes you the one who gets to decide that the relationship ends?”

“I…”

Your mother gave you a smile. “You tried to do the right thing even if it was a bit silly. If your boyfriend wasn’t bothered by it, you can’t just decide he was. What it really was is that you were probably jealous or even scared that he would think he could do better than you. So you wanted to end it before he could hurt you.”

Why did your mother have to be so smart?

She got up and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. “Try to make up with him, if he was really upset about the breakup, he’d want you back quickly.” With that, she left the room, letting you wallow in your thoughts.

Maybe you really did screw up.

Shit, would Yuki even forgive you if you came crawling back?

You groaned. You just wanted to sleep.

If only you just talked it out with him.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Sorry, this is all we have. Someone forgot to buy fake hair.”

Suzuki helped you tied the fluffy tail to your waist. You slipped on the headband with furry ears as you glanced at the mirror. It was the school festival. You were dressed as the werewolf barista though you looked more like a dog. You wore a white button up with black slacks.

You glanced over at Suzuki to see him dressed as a vampire. He was dressed similar to you but with fake fangs and a bit of blood on his face.

“It’s so hard to talk with these fangs.” Suzuki groaned, slipping them back on. You only grinned as you placed the food on the table. Your eyes glanced around the classroom that was turned into a spooky cafe. Everyone was dressed up as some sort of monster.

You didn’t pay any mind to Sana and Ryun, not wanting to talk to them. They also made no effort to speak to you. Your mom really did get the spare keys she gave them back, basically banning them from your house.

It still hurt, realizing you lost two childhood friends.

Though you technically gained Suzuki. He was cool and didn’t talk badly about you behind your back.

Small victories.

The festival finally began at 5:00 pm. Everyone in town was welcomed. At first your class’s cafe wasn’t gaining much attention. Suzuki looked a bit worried so you tried to come up with an idea.

You walked out of the classroom, looking at the groups of people attending the other classes. As someone passed by you grabbed their arm. The person was a girl, one of your past dates, Kazuha.

Kazuha flinched, probably shocked before she saw it was just you who grabbed her. She grinned. “Yoshida-Kun! Ah you look so cute! Lemme take a picture.” She pulled out her camera and quickly snapped a couple of pictures before you could even attempt to pose.

You forgot she was apart of the photography club.

“Anyway, what’s up?” She asked, giving you a kind smile.

“Ah, my classes cafe isn’t gaining enough of attention… Could you help us gain some traction? I don’t know what to do.”

Kazuha hummed, nodding her head. “Lucky for you, I still find you cute.” She teased. “Leave it to me, Yoshi!” With that, she sprinted off before you could even ask what her plan was.

She was only gone for a few minutes before coming back with a pep in her step. “Guess what?”

“What?”

“You’ll be kissing whoever spends over five dollars at the cafe! Just a kiss on the cheek, don’t worry.” She said, a smug smile on her face.

You almost complained that you were taken before remembering that no, you weren’t. “I doubt anyone would be that interested in kissing me.” You said, frowning.

Turns out you were wrong.

It didn’t take long before a group of students came over, looked to be the volleyball team. They practically bought everything. Suzuki had to tell a classmate to bring out the extra food they had stored.

“Can we also take a picture?” One of the boys said, a shy smile on his face. You only mutely nodded, taking a few selfies with them. There wasn’t anyone on the volleyball team you had dated, they were mostly filled with first years.

You gave each boy a quick peck on the cheeks, every single one practically giggling excitedly when you pulled away. After they left, a group of girls came in. They quickly bought some food before rushing over to you.

“You’re so cute! Can I take a picture instead of the kiss??”

“You should be an idol! So cute.”

“Ah, thanks.” You blushed, taking a quick selfie with each girl. “Are you…?”

“We’re first years!” One girl answered. “I heard so many weird rumors about you but you’re so shy in person!” She said, giggling.

“I’ve only heard third years talk bad about you.”

“Ah, right! So homophobic too,” the one with bangs rolled her eyes. “Don’t let them bother you. They’re just jealous you’re cute. Are you supposed to be a dog?”

“A werewolf.”

“Well it’s a good attempt!”

“Ahah, thanks. Please recommends us to any friends!”

It seemed like first years either didn’t care or possibly didn’t know about your reputation. It made sense, you didn’t attempt to sleep with any first years. You mainly stuck to people in your year, only a few second years ever got the chance with you.

Well that was good, only third years hate you.

A few more people came in after. Again, mostly first and second years. The food was almost out before it even reached 7 pm.

“Everyone’s going to be kissing your feet after this,” Suzuki grinned. “We would’ve been screwed without you.”

Kazuha hummed, “and without me! I was the one who came up with the plan.”

“Why are you even here? Don’t you have your own class to bother?” Suzuki rolled his eyes while Kazuha just sent a smug grin.

“I’m mainly surprised people really wanted a kiss from me.”

“Well you are attractive.” Suzuki said bluntly. “In my personal opinion, you’re the school’s heartthrob, not Ito Yuki.”

Kazuha nodded in agreement. “I mean, it wasn’t like you ever ran out of people to date.”

“Mhm.” You glanced around the makeshift cafe, everyone beginning to wine down. A few students even taking off their costumes now. You fixed your tail, popping open two buttons of your shirt to get cool. “Looks like we might have to close up early, there’s only two sweets left.”

“Oh! Let me have them for free!” Kazuha grinned.

“No way! Pay like everyone else!” Suzuki glared at her. He took out his fake fangs and sighed in relief, tossing them in the trash. “I’m never wearing that thing again. I think it scraped my gums.”

“Really? Let me check.” You leaned in, motioning for Suzuki to open his mouth. He complied and leaned down so you could get a clear view. There did look to be a small little wound on the right side of his gum. “Ah, it looks like it irritated the right side. Nothing cut open though.”

“Oh that’s good.” Suzuki hummed. “Anything else?” You leaned in even closer, reaching up to gently grasp Suzuki’s jaw so you could tilt his head down.

“Uh… Yoshi… Suzuki. We have a customer.” Kazuha whispered, her voice weirdly quiet. You glanced over at her, confused on why she was sounding like that. Plus it wasn’t like your other classmates couldn’t handle the customer.

Suzuki pulled away from you, no longer blocking your view of the front door of the classroom.

Your breathing hitched at who was at the door.

Ito Yuki.

And he didn’t look happy at all. His hair was slicked back with gel, a singular strand pulled over his face. Dressed in a suit and tie, you couldn’t help but be memorize at how handsome he looked.

He walked into the classroom, heading straight towards you. He practically ignored Suzuki’s greeting and grabbed the last two sweets left on the main table.

“Are these two together over five dollars?” He asked, his gaze only on you.

“Yeah.” Suzuki answered before you could. “Are you going to take up our offer—”

Suzuki didn’t get to finish when Yuki tossed the sweets back on the table and stepped right up to you. His hands gripped your waist, one sliding up to cup your neck as he pulled you in for a kiss.

Your eyes widen as you could only grip at his shirt in shock. His eyes narrowed in on yours as he pressed your body against his. A strangled moan left you as he bit your bottom lip, easily turning the peck into a hungry kiss. His tongue immediately slipped into your mouth as you felt your legs turn into jelly.

It almost felt hard to breathe as he kissed you breathlessly. He chased your mouth when you attempted to pull away for some air. His tongue was exploring your mouth as if he was hungry and he wouldn’t survive without the taste of you.

The fact your classmates were still in the classroom wasn’t lost on you. Sure, you weren’t particularly shy about asking out people in public or shamelessly flirting with PDA, this was brand new. Especially when Yuki wasn’t into public affection.

Your moans were hardly muffled by Yuki’s mouth, though it seemed to spur him on. His grip on your waist slipped down before grabbing a handful of your ass. A shameful squeak left your lips when he finally decided to pull away.

The only sound that could be heard was your heavy breathing. Yuki only stared down at you before moving to grab your hand instead of your ass.

Kazuha and Suzuki looked shocked to say the least. Though Kazuha gave you a thumb ups with a smile, nodding her head. Suzuki looked mostly traumatized at the sudden make out sesh. A few of your classmates were whispering but you couldn’t hear them properly. You could feel Sana and Ryun staring at you.

Katori looked pissed but that only made you happy.

“You can clean up without him,” Yuki simply said, looking at Suzuki.

Suzuki only let out a soft ‘huh’ as Kazuha quickly nodded, a grin on her lips. “Of course, of course!! Go have fun you too! Be safe!”

Yuki hummed and began dragging you out of the classroom, not waiting for you to even attempt to refuse. As they walked out, Suzuki glanced back at the two sweets left on the table.

“He didn’t pay…”

You had to pick up the pace to keep with Yuki’s long strides. Though finally out of your classroom, you got to see what the other classes did for the festival. When you passed Yuki’s classroom, it looked like their theme was mad scientist cake decorating.

You wondered where his lab coat was but didn’t think he’d be in the mood to answer such a question right now. He finally came to stop when he reached the student council’s room and pulled you inside. The door closed with a slam as he turned the lock.

Now that you two were alone, it suddenly dawned on you that you were broken up for only two days. When it almost felt weeks. Wow, you were a simp for him at this point.

“What was that?” He asked, his jaw tense.

“What was what?”

“Seriously? You break up with me two days ago and suddenly allowing everyone to kiss you for a school festival?”

“I didn’t come up with it… Kazuha thought it would be good to help us with sales. I didn’t even think people would be interested in kissing me.”

“You have such low self esteem for being a playboy,” Yuki said, letting out a joyless laugh. “You think people slept with you so easily for only week without being physically attracted to you?”

“I…” You shook your head. “Anyway what was that?! You just kissed me in front of everyone! You told me you don’t like public affection.”

“I had to make sure no one got the idea that you were suddenly single.” Yuki easily confessed. “Your class seems to be the one spreading most of the rumors around school, they’ll let everyone know that you’re mine.”

“But… I’m not yours. I ended the relationship.”

“Yeah, without my feelings being taken into consideration. I thought about it, we’re not breaking up. You can’t just end things.”

“Yuki, I’m not good for you. I don’t want to bring you down.”

“(Name), it’s fucking high school. Who gives a shit what they think? Do I have to fuck you brainless to make you understand that I want you no matter what they think?”

You blushed, looking away in embarrassment.

Yuki let out a laugh. “That’s all you need.” He grabbed your arm and pulled you close, his free hand reaching up to cradle your face. “I’ll fuck you until you understand you’re never leaving me. I’ve waited so long for you—I’m not letting other people’s jealousy take you away from me.”

His hands grabbed your button up and easily tore it open, buttons popping loose. You gasped as you tried to salvage the shirt but he easily pulled it off. The room’s cool air brushed against your skin.

You looked up at Yuki, eyes wide. “In here?!” You whispered, remembering the third floor wasn’t exactly empty.

“Mhm.” Yuki took off his glasses, placing them on your face. Your vision was blurred from the prescription. When you attempted to take them off he gripped your wrist. “Keep them on. I’m still angry at you.”

A gulp left your throat as you watched a blurry image of Yuki. You could still make out what he was doing but could no longer see his face clearly. Cold hands pressed against your stomach, causing you to tense up. He slowly pushed you back until you laid down on the table.

“Do you know why I like you?” He suddenly asked. You only let out a confused hum. “When I moved to this town, I was pissed. From Tokyo to something so minuscule. Besides, I was a new kid coming to a high school where the kids knew each other since elementary.”

Wet lips pressed against your stomach. You gasped, looking down to see but Yuki reached up and gripped your face. He pushed your head back to rest on the table before pulling away.

“I didn’t think anything of you until I saw you in that maid outfit. Then I noticed how you portrayed this persona of yourself: the smooth talking playboy but deep down you were cute when you thought no one was looking.”

You clamped your hands against your mouth to muffle the surprised moan that left your throat. Yuki’s teeth sunk into your stomach as he bit hard on your soft flesh. He left two more marks, each harder than the first.

“You were more sensitive than you let on. I noticed whenever your dates didn’t go through the full week with you that you would get sad. Pouty and moping around the halls until you find a new person.”

His hands grasped your waist. His thumbs gently digging into your skin. Soft kisses pressed against your stomach, his tongue teasing your belly button. He unbuckled your tail, letting it lay dejected on the floor. But then his teeth bit into your skin, earning a loud squeak from you.

“Anyone who even looked at you wrong made you upset. I only watched you from afar, you never made an attempt to ask me out. But I always watched you ask out other people. That stupid catchphrase of yours got on my nerves.”

The sound of fabric tearing caused your hips to flinch as cool air conditioner teased your now bare thighs. His mouth immediately bit at your inner thigh. His hands held your hips down to stop you from bucking away from his touch.

“I wondered all the time if you would just stay that way. Asking out people and leaving them after the week. How could that be satisfying to you? But during our summer break after our first year, I came across you at the park. I saw you crying your eyes out.”

Your eyes squeezed shut at the mention of that incident. His glasses slid down your nose from your constant movement. Yuki moved to your left thigh, biting hard on the skin. You whimpered, one hand reaching down to grip his hair.

“I wanted to talk you but your friends ended up coming over. All I could think was that I never wanted to see you cry like that again. The thought of you frowning made me angry. Those feelings towards you might’ve just been infatuation but I knew I wanted you in my arms.”

“Yuki…” You moved to sit up when his hand immediately pushed you back into the table. You grunted in surprise, his glasses falling off your face from the force. It toppled to the ground, one of the lenses cracking from the force.

You looked back up to quickly apologize for not protecting his glasses when you finally got a good look at Yuki. His eyes were red. He was.. crying?

“I didn’t say you could speak.” He said, his voice harsh. If you hadn’t seen his face—you wouldn’t have thought he was crying. “I was ready back then to just watch you from afar. You didn’t seem to want a permanent relationship and I wasn’t going to force myself on you. But then you asked me out…”

He looked down at your thighs, his hands moving to your hips as his fingers teased your boxers.

“At that moment, I knew I couldn’t admire you from afar anymore. You were within my grasps and I needed to make you mine. Make you obsessed so you won’t want anyone else.” He let out a joyless laugh. “I knew exactly what you were saying when you mentioned the week being over. But I wasn’t going to allow you to leave me.”

His hand grasped your boxers as he glanced up at your face. He didn’t say anything as he slowly began to tear the fabric open. You blushed, your body suddenly feeling hot at the sight.

“You know, Yoshida (Name).” He whispered, a grin on his face. “You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever met. And I’m so fucking angry that you decided to end our relationship without thinking about me. But it’s okay, you just don’t see yourself the way I see you.

“Hit me three times if you need to stop.” Was all he said. He grabbed the torn fabric of your shirt and used it to blindfold you. You whimpered, gripping at his arm just to make sure he didn’t disappear. “You can’t be loud, the festival is still going on. Though I don’t mind if everyone learns how good I fuck you.”

You bit your lip as his hand grasped your cock. His thumb rubbed against your slit, teasing it slowly as you withered beneath him. Now having your sight gone made the feeling more intense for some reason. You wouldn’t know what he was going to do until you felt his touch.

His hand released your cock, letting it plop against your stomach. Your body twitched as you waited for him to touch you again. When you didn’t feel anything you began to whine.

Your hips twitched when something wet teased your hole. “W..What was that?!”

“Shh, it’s lube.”

“You carried lube to school?!” Two fingers rubbed against your hole, spreading the cool lube. A gasp left your throat when Yuki slowly pushed in two fingers at once. The burn was strong as your back arched against the table.

“I didn’t. A friend gave it to me.”

“You..You’re friends—ngh… friends with someone who brings lube to school?!”

“Mhm. It’s good to have friends with different interests.”

“Different interests… ah!”

The squelching of the lube filled the room as you bit your lip, trying to muffle your whimpers. You could hear people walking past the room. It should’ve made you anxious but honestly you felt so horny.

Yuki curled his fingers, rubbing right against your prostate. A wet cry left your lips. Your hands digging into the table for some form of purchase.

Before you could reach your high, his fingers pulled out. It was silent for a moment—only the sounds of people walking past. You briefly wondered if he left when something pressed against your ass.

His hands gripped your waist, keeping you still as he slowly thrusted into your hole. You clamped your hand over your mouth to muffle the moan from the stretch.

“I wanted to mess with you more but we can’t stay in here for too long.”

Your vision blurred—the soft blues of the moonlight stabilizing your sight. Yuki tossed your makeshift blindfold onto the pile of torn clothes. You gazed up at him, finally able to properly take him in once more.

His hair was messy. The sleekness gone. Bangs threatening to fall over his face as he ran his hand through his strands. His eyes were still puffy and red.

“Yuki… I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Yuki’s eyes widen, just a bit as he stared down at you. It was still hard to really tell what he was feeling through expression alone. You wanted him to say something, to say if he forgave you or not.

“You’re still not off the hook.” He finally said, a slight smile on his lips. “I’ll punish you properly another time. For now, I’ll show you just how much I love you.” His hands reached up and grasped your waist, pulling you to the end of the table.

A shuddered gasp left your lips as he slowly thrusted in deeper. Your hands gripped at his bicep, body gently moving at his rhythmic thrusts.

Yuki leaned down and pressed a kiss to your neck. His mouth kissed down to your collarbone as he bit at your skin. You whimpered—his hips picking up in pace.

The sound of skin slapping bled into the room with your raising pitch in moans. Your legs wrapped around his waist to bring him in even closer.

“I like you.” Yuki suddenly whispered, lips pressed against the underneath of your chin. He slammed his hips against your ass, earning a loud cry from you. You quickly bit your lip to try and muffle yourself as he kept a faster pace.

“I like your smile.” His fingers dug into the soft skin of your hips. “I like your laugh. I like your eyes.” Hips slammed into you, holding its position as his cock grazed your prostate. “That smile you have whenever you’re going to be a menace.”

Your nails dug into his back as small gasps left you. His cock was now repeatedly rubbing against your prostate. Your toes curling from the pleasure as you had to fight everything fiber of your being to not scream out.

“(Name)-Chan.” Yuki whispered, grunting when you involuntarily tightened around his cock. He let out a chuckle. “(Name)-Chan, I love you.” His voice soft and sweet, a stark contrast to his harsh thrusts.

You were going to say something but Yuki didn’t allow you. He kissed you, pressing his body against yours as he was unforgiving in his pace. His hips slammed into your ass as the sound is skin slapping filled the room.

You didn’t even attempt to muffle your moans. Your prostate constantly rubbed and pressed against with his animalistic thrusting. Yuki greedily swallowed your moans as you pulled him closer.

It didn’t take long before you reached your high, your back arching as you came. Yuki didn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm. Your hands trailed up to tangle in his hair as you felt his cock begin to twitch.

Yuki pulled away from the kiss, your mouths barely touching as you took deep breaths. His hips stuttered as he let out a low groan, gripping your hips as he slammed deep inside. Something warm coated your walls as you let out a whimper.

You couldn’t be mad about him not using a condom. At least not right now. You quickly kissed him again. It was a slow kiss, the previous hunger finally satiated.

“I… I love you too.” You whispered, pulling away from the kiss to look him in the eye. “What… should we do for our sixth month anniversary?”

Yuki raised an eyebrow as he let out a laugh. “So suddenly?” He leaned in, his nose rubbing against yours. “It’s actually our first day together as a couple, since we just got back together.”

“Really?” You asked. “But you didn’t ask me out yet.”

Yuki pulled away as he stared down at you. He reached down and gently cradled your face, his thumb rubbing against your lips.

“Hey, do you wanna make out?”

It took a moment before it fully registered. Your lips quivered as you let out a laugh, shaking your head. “Shit… It sounds so stupid when you say it back.” You sighed, a bit embarrassed that the sentence was your catch phrase for so long.

“Do you?” Yuki simply asked.

You looked up at him and grinned. Your eyes felt teary as you whispered,“Mhm. Let’s make out.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“I’ve had a crush on you since first year, I doubt Yoshida has liked you as long as I have. He probably doesn’t even know you like—”

“—Are you guys done?” Yuki cut her off, brushing off a hand that touched his shoulder. He glanced around the room before sighing. “1,000 STDs? Are you all five? Yoshida (Name) is my boyfriend.”

Kaede stared up at Yuki in shock. “But—”

“—But nothing. This class is supposedly filled with students who test the best, so I assumed you wouldn’t be so childish. Speaking such nasty language about my boyfriend in front of me is insane. Get it through your head, I’m dating Yoshida (Name), and I won’t ever date someone like you, Kaede. Now everyone get back to planning.”

The room was silent as Yuki’s classmates slowly began to get back to their assigned tasks. Yuki paid Kaede and her friends no mind as they consoled the girl. A snicker left the girl beside Yuki.

“Shit, Yuki! That was crueler than normal. I thought you were going to punch someone!” Maki laughed, “You’re really serious about Yoshida-San, huh?”

Yuki glanced over at Maki. “Course I am. He’s my first and only boyfriend.”

“Only..? Like you won’t.. date men after Yoshida-San?”

“No. (Name) is the only person I’ll date ever. We’re never breaking up.”

Maki only laughed before awkwardly stopping when she noticed Yuki’s serious face. “You’re weird sometimes, Yuki.”

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“You’re… cute.. as a maid…”

Yuki felt as if he was going to pass out. You stood in front of him, dressed as a maid for the first year’s class festival. He was shorter back then, thick square glasses that did nothing for his looks. You didn’t have to look up at him like you do now.

You tilted your head at him, the long hair of your wig moving in tandem. A slight grin pulled on your lips as you gripped the edge of your dress, teasingly pulling it up to show a sliver of skin not covered by your stockings.

“I know~ But I can be sexy too.” You dropped your dress, giggling as if you didn’t just sexually tease Yuki. “Thanks, Ito~” You skipped away to your friends, your skirt swishing with your movement.

Yuki learned three things that day.

He has a thing for cute things

You looked good in feminine outfits

He reacts like a Victorian man at the sliver of skin

As well as another thing, staying as your admirer was proving harder each day.

He just didn’t know how lucky he would get in his third year.

Had to put in some last minute feminization because that’s literally Yuki’s whole kink. Just didn’t fit into this chapter well. Anyway, love exploring angst and fluff! Excited to write chapter 3 cuz it’ll be graduation time!!

Tag list: @omgplsletmeread @the-ultimate-librarian @tehyunnie @chill-guy-but-cooler @smellwell @euthymiko @love-kha1 @star-3214 @tomoeroi @cherry-blossoms-187 @remdayz @iwishtobeacrow @mello-life25 @ofclyde @kiiyoooo @mooncarvers-world @rhetorical-conscience

#bottom male reader #x male reader #sub male reader #uke male reader #male reader #oc x reader #mlm ns/fw #male bottom reader #original character

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itsjaywalkers · 2 years ago

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POPPING THE BIGGEST CHAMPAGNE BOTTLES YOU CAN IMAGINE RN very sorry about the roy siblings’ loss my heart is with them in these difficult times etc etc BUT GOOD RIDDANCE MF YOU WON’T BE MISSED

#yes i’m officially caught up #also don’t let this post fool you i spent almost the entirety of the episode crying my eyes out #still very happy that he’s finally dead!!!#laurie’s succession commentary

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wheneverfeasible · 4 months ago

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Bullshit (part 3/3)

Third and final part of my angsty Steddie “Bullshit” story where Steve changes himself to try to keep Eddie’s love. I swear the happy ending is finally here everyone! Please put the pitchforks and torches away!

I hope it lives up to expectations and thank you everyone for showing such a keen interest in my story. This final part is LONG and dialogue heavy but hey, at least you finally get the fluff.

Part 1 || Part 2

It had been two weeks.

Which, sure, wasn’t the longest they’d gone without seeing each other before due to their lives being hectic, but it had been the longest they’d gone without even so much as a quick goodnight phone call since they finally got together. Steve’s hand had hovered over the phone every night, wanting to call Eddie and apologize and promise to do better, but he was too much of a coward.

Because, you see, as long as they weren’t talking, Steve could still pretend that they were together. He knew though that the moment his resolve crumbled and he called Eddie, or Eddie finally had enough and called him, that it would be over. Eddie would officially break up with him and this time Steve didn’t know how he was going to pick up the pieces.

He loved too much, too quickly, too earnestly. But it was never enough. It was always just bullshit and he didn’t know how to stop it from being bullshit. The first time he hadn’t taken Nancy’s own needs into account, had been too caught up in his own trauma to realize that she needed more than just to pretend that nothing had happened and move on from what couldn’t be changed.

Neither had been in the wrong, of course, both dealing with trauma and guilt in their own way, but in the end they had simply been too incompatible. He hadn’t been what she needed and she hadn’t been what he needed. They couldn’t change that, not even back when that spark between them still burned in an ember. But who they were simply couldn’t change to be what the other needed, or deserved.

So then he tried to change, for Eddie. Once Eddie and he got together, it was obvious they were too different. Their friends had commented on it enough, and then when Steve changed to be worthy of Eddie, they commented on that too. But Steve was fine with changing. He loved Eddie enough to become what would make Eddie happy. He’d do anything to make Eddie happy.

Except he failed. He failed and now he had gone two weeks without speaking to his boyfriend who probably hated him now.

Their friends wouldn’t tell him anything either, not that he really wanted them to know of his failure. Only Robin knew because she had been the first person he had called when Eddie had ran away from him when it became obvious Steve wasn’t good enough.

Robin, who had threatened to make Eddie’s balls into earrings, had muttered about how she’d always known he was trouble, but Steve also remembered how happy Robin had been when she discovered she wasn’t alone. She and Eddie had gotten on like a house on fire, bickering like they’d been siblings all along, and it had been so nice to have both his soulmates so close to him and each other.

He couldn’t let Robin hate Eddie because of Steve’s own failings. So he talked to her, told her it was fine, told her not to hate Eddie just because Steve couldn’t be what he wanted, though that only seemed to make Robin worse.

Until a few days ago.

She had suddenly returned with a smile on her face, and though she seemed impatient at times, she had at least stopped threatening bodily harm towards Eddie. She stopped bringing Eddie up entirely, actually, though she looked like she wanted to say something more than once.

Normally, Steve would have pried it out of her. It would have been easy too. A flash of wide eyes, downturned lips, tilted head, a soft whine to her name, and she’d be spilling state secrets to him…though he already knew all the state secrets that she knew. But she couldn’t hide from her soulmate. Ever since that first bathroom confessional, they were never very good at keeping secrets from each other.

Steve was too tired for that now. He just wanted Eddie. But Eddie didn’t want him.

Because he was bullshit.

Steve was curled on his couch, Dio blasting from the music system, the fancy new CD player rotating the shiny disc over and over again on repeat. Eddie had said he preferred vinyls, so Steve tried to only listen to vinyls when he was around, but Steve enjoyed the way he could set the new CD technology on repeat without having to get up. It let him wallow for longer.

Robin had been by earlier, though she seemed jumpier than normal, constantly looking at her watch. She’d finally jumped out of Steve’s bed they were lounging in and said she had to go about an hour ago, stuttering excuses and refusing to meet his eyes.

He wondered if Robin was beginning to realize he was bullshit too.

He couldn’t blame her. They didn’t really have much in common either. It was only trauma bonding that tied them together, or at least that’s what she had called it a few nights after everything to do with Starcourt, when she’d biked all the way to Loch Nora and pounded on the door until a bewildered Steve had answered.

She’d thrown her arms around Steve then, and he’d realized she’d been crying, and she kept whispering over and over “you’re safe you’re safe you’re safe you’re safe” as though she needed to reassure herself. Steve had at first thought she was talking about herself, but then he realized she was talking about him.

That particular realization had been electrifying. No one had ever really checked up on him before. But apparently Robin had been unable to sleep, plagued by nightmares of what the Russians had done to Steve, plagued by the what-if’s of Steve not making it out of the underground bunker. It was the first night they slept in the same bed together, but it wasn’t the last.

She’d told him that they were trauma bonded, them and the rest of the group, that no matter how different they were, they would always have each other’s back. That was also the first night she’d called him her soulmate though, making certain he knew she meant it Platonic with a capital ‘P’ and nothing else. Steve realized that it didn’t make it any less important.

But maybe that had been a lie too.

Maybe Robin was beginning to realize that they were too different. That Steve would never be good enough for anyone. Not good enough for his family, not good enough for Dustin, not good enough for Nancy, not good enough for Eddie, and not good enough for Robin. Always wanting, always worthless. Always bullshit.

It was during this spiral that a very polite, though loud, knocking came from the front door. He supposed they had to be loud to be heard over the sounds of Dio, which he had cranked up to try to drown out the thoughts in his head.

Steve rubbed at his eyes, which felt crusty from dried tears, sitting up from where he had collapsed after showing Robin out the door. He’d think that it was Robin returning for something she forgot, a regular occurrence, but she rarely knocked anymore. She typically just let herself in with the spare key he’d given her. He’d given one to Eddie too.

Pushing thoughts of his maybe-still-his-boyfriend away as he hit pause on the music, Steve shuffled towards the front door. He gave a brief tug of his Iron Maiden shirt, which was actually one of Eddie’s, to attempt to make his rumpled appearance look a little more presentable, and then he was swinging the door open to reveal…

Eddie???

Except…it wasn’t an Eddie he recognized. No, this Eddie was wearing an orchid pink polo and light khakis, and…were those Oxford shoes he was wearing?? With a matching belt??? His hair was smoothed fully back and clasped into a professional looking bun and not a single ring adorned his fingers, made obvious by the way Eddie held up a bouquet of roses. Even the ever present pick necklace from absent from Eddie’s neck.

Steve gaped.

“Hello, Steve,” Eddie said, even his voice seemed softer, less wild, and his smile was the sort Steve had seen his father’s business associates give to each other when a good deal had gone through. Happy, pleased, but restrained. Nothing like the manic grins he was used to from Eddie.

“E-Eddie?” he croaked out, absolutely in disbelief. Behind Eddie, Steve could see a station wagon parked where Eddie’s van should be. “What’s going on?”

Eddie held the flowers out towards Steve, who automatically took them. He couldn’t help but give a bemused smile even as he brought them up to smell. Eddie took a deep breath, indicating the foyer with a small motion of his hand.

“Sorry, but may we talk inside?”

This strangely polite version of Eddie was making Steve feel weirdly uncomfortable, so used to the exuberance that normally surrounded the other man. He took a step back, however, because it was Eddie. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest at seeing Eddie again, even if he looked different.

Steve closed the door behind Eddie after the other man stepped forward, though not before wiping his shoes off on the doormat, which Steve could not recall Eddie ever doing before. He felt like he had somehow fallen into an alternate dimension, and not of the Upside Down variety. Maybe that would have been better; he knew how to handle that kind.

“Um…let me put these in water?” Steve said, though it sounded more like a question, at a loss for what was happening right now.

“Of course, sweetheart. Do you mind if I put on the game?”

Sweetheart.

Steve felt a hopeful flutter in his chest and gut at the use of an endearment. Sure, Eddie was no stranger to using such terms in retaliation to bullies or anyone else he disliked, but that was not the tone Eddie used just now. No, he used the tone he always used with Steve, making Steve hopeful towards the idea that he hadn’t actually ruined everything yet.

He was so caught up with that fact that it took him a moment to process the second part of what Eddie said. “Uh…yeah, sure?” he answered with a question again, brows furrowing, as he wondered if he had somehow forgotten that he was supposed to host Eddie’s campaign night that night.

He hurried quickly to the kitchen to find something to put the flowers in, suddenly worried about how his home looked. He hadn’t been expecting to host Dungeons and Dragons, didn’t have the snacking station set up or anything. Did he have enough beverages? Who all was coming tonight? He felt his hosting anxiety start climbing at these questions, as well as the worry that this was a test.

If he failed tonight, would Eddie finally be done with him?

Steve was just settling the vase full of roses on the counter when he heard…was that…?

“Oh come on, Coach! Take him out!” Eddie’s voice filtered through to him as Steve slowly made his way towards the living room. “That asshole is making Gochnaur look like a capable shortstop!”

Was Eddie…watching baseball?

Did Eddie know about John Gochnaur?

What was happening right now?

Steve stood in the doorway leading into the living room, watching with a completely gobsmacked expression as, yes, Eddie was currently watching baseball and giving correct commentary. Steve hadn’t even known Eddie knew what a shortstop did.

Eddie glanced over at Steve and his annoyed expression smoothed into one of happiness. He pat the couch next to him invitingly and Steve could do nothing but walk forward and take his place at Eddie’s side. His furrowed brows shot up into his hairline when Eddie pulled him closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as he started rattling off statistics of the players on screen like he did monsters during his DnD campaigns as he indicated the probability of home runs and errors.

“What the hell is going on right now?” he mumbled mostly to himself. This was…this was weird. He wasn’t sure he liked this. No, he knew he didn’t like this. Whatever this was, it felt wrong. He turned his head to frown at Eddie who still looked caught up in the game. In sports.

“Eddie, what…” Steve shook his head slightly, wetting his lips. “Why are you watching baseball? Why are you wearing those clothes? You just left the other days and now you look like a completely different person. What is going on?”

Eddie glanced over at Steve, his own brows high into his bangs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Steve. I’m wearing perfectly normal clothing. And sure, it’s only baseball, but it’s not like it’s basketball season yet.”

Eddie paused then, his expression settling into a neutral look for only a moment before slowly morphing to one of pained regret. He sight and hung his head for a moment before grabbing the remote and muting the screen. He then released Steve just enough to turn slightly on the couch to better face him.

“I’m sorry for leaving though, baby. There’s no excuse for just running out on you like that. I didn’t want to hurt you, I just…I had a lot on my mind and I needed to figure some things out. But don’t worry, Stevie. I have it all figured out now and now I can be an even better boyfriend to you,” he finished with a wide grin that looked nothing like his typical crazed charming smile. It looked more like the grins he used to make before he felt comfortable around Steve and the others.

Charming, yes, but not right. Not Eddie.

But Eddie was leaning forwards, brushing one of the limp pieces of his hair that he hadn’t even bothered to style these past two weeks—hell, had barely had the energy to even wash—back behind his ear. He then pressed forward to lightly kiss the tip of Steve’s nose with a smile, and Steve could only smile back. Eddie was here, with him, and that was all that mattered.

Except…

Except.

Eddie’s pink polo was still in his line of vision. It was Eddie, but it wasn’t Eddie at the same time. He looked nothing like the metalhead he loved. Not that there was anything wrong with what he wore now, of course, and honestly seeing Eddie in a polo was kind of hot, but…it wasn’t him.

Steve pulled back, his smile turning back into a small frown. His eyes tracked over Eddie’s outfit. Sure, Eddie looked nice in it, but it was incredibly wrong. The khakis even looked pressed. “But seriously, Eddie, what the hell are you wearing?”

Eddie looked down at his own clothing with a look of not understanding before looking back up at Steve. “I honestly don’t know what you mean. I’m wearing clothing. A shirt and pants I’ve even got underwear on underneath. Though I can wear a lot less of it if you prefer, baby,” he added in that sultry voice that never failed to get Steve going. He’d once accidentally slipped into it while DMing when he narrated a succubus type NPC and Steve had popped a boner right then and there at the table.

And Steve’s dick made a valiant effort to respond now actually, but everything was wrong and Steve didn’t like that. He continued frowning at Eddie.

“Why are you wearing a polo?” he asked more directly, because he knew from experience with Dustin and Robin and even Eddie himself that sometimes you just have to ask directly if you wanted a proper answer. And seriously. A polo?? “Where are your regular clothes. And why are you watching baseball?”

“I like baseball,” Eddie replied easily with a shrug. “It’s not as bad as I thought. I like that the players can have their little music intro. And I wear polos now, they’re surprisingly comfortable.” He gave Steve a gentle smile. “If you don’t want to watch baseball, we can do something else. You wanna put on some music? Have you heard Debbie Gibson’s new song? Truly heartbreaking. I bet it’s on the radio right now.”

Steve just gaped. It was like Eddie was speaking an alien language even though he knew that all that was English and he understood each word separately. All together though, coming from Eddie’s mouth? Yeah, nothing made sense.

“Eddie,” he breathed, slowly reaching out for Eddie’s left hand and feeling another swoop of wrongness at the lack of rings there. “When you said you wanted to put on the game, I thought you meant a campaign. And Debbie Gibson? Babe, you’re in a metal band. Debbie Gibson isn’t cool.”

“Hey! You treat Deb with respect. Girl’s got an excellent voice,” Eddie said with indignation. Steve could only roll his eyes because yeah, he knew that, but Eddie saying something like that? Unreal. It was Eddie’s next words that made him freeze solid, however.

“Besides, I quit the band. Dungeons and Dragons too. Figured I’m too old for that nerd shit. I’m thinking about getting a real job now anyways, so I don’t have time for all that anymore. Actually, do you want to go through the classifieds together with me later? Gareth said he’d try to get me an in with his dad’s company, but it’s better to be prepared.”

Eddie quit the band? Quit Dungeons and Dragons? Was talking about a corporate job? What. The. Fuck.

Steve scrambled up from the couch, his fingers moving up to squeeze the bridge of his nose before both hands settled on his hips as he stared at Eddie in disbelief. “You love Corroded Coffin. And Dungeons and Dragons! Why the hell would you stop doing something you love?”

Something flashed across Eddie’s expression then, something pleased like Steve had said exactly what Eddie had hoped he would, but it was gone the very next instant leaving Eddie simply staring up Steve with wide and imploring eyes.

“But Steve,” he said, and his tone was too earnest that it made Steve pause. “I love you more, and you don’t like those things. So I’ll change, for you.”

The words were like a bucket of ice water thrown back in his face. He couldn’t move, couldn’t react. Couldn’t resist when Eddie reached out and grasped his hand to pull him back to the couch he’d just vacated, pulling him against his side once more.

“You changed for me, so now I’ll change for you,” Eddie said like the solution was obvious. Steve mutely shook his head, but Eddie’s smile was toothy and sharp and so much like the smile he was used to that he couldn’t speak. Which was just as well, since Eddie wasn’t done. “You changed who you were because you loved me so much and didn’t want to lose me. Is it so preposterous to imagine that I love you so much that I’m willing to do the same?”

Yes! Steve wanted to exclaim, wanted to shout and shake Eddie, because of course Eddie didn’t love Steve the same way that Steve loved Eddie; no one ever did.

Well, except maybe Robin. They were Platonic soulmates after all. He knew that he had started doubting her earlier, which made him a little nauseous to do actually, but she had been the only one so far who had never abandoned him. Who seemingly cared for him the same way he cared for her.

But to think he could possibly be blessed with someone who loved him, romantically, that same way? To think that he might be lucky enough to have that sort of fabled love twice? Impossible! Because…because he knew. He knew he wasn’t good enough. He wouldn’t ever be good enough. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a good person. He wasn’t—

“Do you know why I love you, Stevie?” Eddie murmured, cutting off Steve’s thoughts and causing him to stiffen beside him. It wasn’t like he was unused to these declarations; Eddie never really shied away from telling Steve he loved him, though Steve had to fight back the inane temptation to make a bitchy little joke about it like he’d had before, teasingly crediting his ass or how pretty he looked on his knees. Eddie had given them as reasons enough for his love when they’d joked around before, just as Steven had teasingly cited his love as being because of how skilled Eddie’s fingers were, or the talent of his mouth.

He could sense, however, that trying to trivialize the moment would not go well this time. No, Eddie was looking at him earnestly once more, was reaching out again for Steve’s hand to hold and clutch between both of his against his chest. He thankfully did not seem like he was expecting an answer from Steve.

“It’s because you thought about my safety first, back then, at Skull Rock, even after I’d shoved a broken bottle at your neck. Even though we ran in two totally different circles, you immediately put me as a priority. It’s because you didn’t hesitate to jump into the water, not in belittlement of Wheeler and Buckley for being girls, or me for being…well, me…but simply because you were aware of your own qualifications and knew you were best for the job.

“It’s because, at the first real opportunity of being relatively alone with me, you immediately thanked me for coming to help you after you’d been pulled under, like there had been any other option. As if it wasn’t a given that you deserved to be made a priority too.”

Eddie paused then, thickly swallowed as his eyes closed momentarily. “Though you totally saved your own ass there, tearing that bitch apart with your bare hands. You’re a total badass, sweetheart,” he rumbled, the heat of hungry appreciation in his voice. “Wrapped up in soft yellow sweaters and ridiculously styled hair.”

Opening his eyes to look at Steve again, Steve could see some of that (still surprising) hunger lingering. Because yeah, he knew now that Eddie had near creamed his pants when he’d pulled an Ozzy with the demobat, and even though he questioned his boyfriend’s tastes at time, he was also always so gleeful to know that Eddie thought him sexy as hell.

But it was more than just that, and Steve felt his heart hammering away beneath his ribcage as Eddie kept going on, singing his praises as if Steve was truly something to be admired.

“It’s because,” Eddie continued saying, bringing Steve’s hand up to lightly nuzzle against his knuckles, “you always put everyone else first, even if you hide it behind your bitchy little snide words. Because you care about everyone else and would throw yourself directly into the path of danger to protect them. Protect us. And more than that, you take care of everyone around you, whether they show their gratitude or not. Dustin wasn’t wrong when he talked about how great you are.

“It’s because…” Eddie drew in another shuddering breath, his eyes wide and deep with emotion. “It’s because, when you look at me, you see me, not just another trailer trash failure who couldn’t even properly graduate high school. You see someone worth loving.”

“Eddie,” Steve broke in then with a cracked voice, his guilt unable to keep him quiet. “You were right about me, though. I was a douchebag. Even about you I was an asshole until everything went down. I called you a freak, and I didn’t try hard enough to stop Tommy from attacking you or the others, and I only cared about myself back then. I’m not the person you think I am.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie said with a shake of his head. “I won’t deny past dickishness, but I’m not so innocent either,” he pointed out. “I held my own prejudices, my own selfishness. I ostracized Lucas for daring to like sports, I nearly abandoned my bandmates the first time I thought I could make it solo, and I continually ran away when things got tough or hard, try as hard as I did to pretend otherwise.”

Eddie released Steve’s hand from one of his own so that he could snake it behind Steve’s neck to pull him in for a gentle kiss. Steve melted into it, terrified Eddie would eventually leave him still, while also taking great comfort in the kiss. It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, that much he was certain.

“You love with your whole heart, Stevie,” Eddie whispered when he finally pulled away. “I will never be able to apologize enough for taking advantage of that, for not realizing what was going on.” He dropped his gaze to the Iron Maiden shirt Steve was wearing, sliding his hand from Steve’s neck to his chest. “The fact that I ever made you feel like you weren’t enough exactly as you are will always haunt me.”

Steve didn’t want Eddie sad. He didn’t want Eddie to blame himself for Steve not being enough. He couldn’t get the words out though, not when Eddie looked so utterly heartbroken.

“I’m so sorry, baby. And I’m so sorry for leaving. I just…I realized what I did to you and I couldn’t…I couldn’t…”

Steve was horrified by the tears that began flooding Eddie’s eyes, causing him to reach out with his own freed hand pull Eddie in by his polo for another kiss. He didn’t understand what was going on, but…but…

Was Eddie truly not upset with him?

“Christ, baby,” Eddie murmured against his lips. “I love you in your polos. I love you listening to your own music in the car, the way your hair flops about as you jam out to Queen and Wham! and even Cydni fucking Lauper. I love how passionate you get about sports, the way you fuss over Henderson and the others, the way you call out other people’s shit. I love all of you, not in spite of you.”

Eddie pulled back to look properly at Steve, and this time it was Steve with tears brimming in his eyes. Everything Eddie said was like a revelation because the tone of Eddie’s voice, the look in Eddie’s eyes…he meant them.

“But…we’re so different,” he protested, because how was he supposed to accept that when they were nothing alike? Certainly Eddie had to have some regrets, or wish for some changes.

“Steve,” Eddie said on a near whine. “Of course we’re different. We’re different people.” He shook his head suddenly, taking a deep breath. He then reached out and caught Steve’s chin to force him to look at him, catching his eyes with his own. “Do you love me any less for being different than you?”

“No!” Steve yelled aghast. How could Eddie ever think that?

“Then why do you think I would ever love you less for the same?”

Steve opened his mouth, ready to protest again, except…except he didn’t really have an answer to that. Not beyond the fact that he would always be less than. Less than Eddie, less than the kids, less than everyone else he ever cared about.

Except…

Except.

The way Eddie was staring at him now, the way Eddie’s own pain reflected in his dark brown eyes, didn’t make Steve feel like he was lesser. Eddie had never made him feel lesser, actually. Eddie had instead made him feel like…like he mattered. Like he was something worth cherishing. Like…like he was loved.

“I…I don’t know,” Steve admitted, voice cracking, and the tears he’d been keeping at bay slowly spilled over and slid down his cheeks.

Eddie cupped his jaw with both hands then, and though his tears didn’t fall, he sniffled in a way that revealed that it was a very near thing. “I love you so much, baby. I was so ecstatic that you loved me too, that you seemed to be willing to take interest in the things I loved, that I didn’t realize I never did the same. I thought you were trying to figure out who you were, I never noticed that you stopped being you.

“I don’t want you to be just another metalhead who likes everything I like. I want you to be your own person, to like the things you like even if I don’t like them. I want to meet you in the middle of who we are, not a compromise, but as a sign of our love. I’ll take you to metal concerts and you can take me to sports games, even the ones with laundry baskets,” he gently teased. “Any of them, I don’t care. As long as I’m with you doing things you love, I’ll be happy. Because you make me happy, sweetheart.”

Steve’s eyes darted away, eyes catching on the screen where one of the players just stole a base and made themselves that much closer to winning the game, before looking back at Eddie. He didn’t see anything false in his expression, only genuine, hopeful sincerity. Like he truly meant his words.

“I’m fine doing whatever you want,” he mumbled. “You don’t need to sacrifice anything.”

“Baby,” Eddie implored. “It’s not a sacrifice to be with you. You’re so perfect for me, just like you are. Like you truly are. I fell in love with you not because of what you can give me, but because of who you are. I never thought you were actually trying to change to be who you thought I wanted you to be. Because I just want you, baby. If you still want me.”

“Of course I want you,” Steve murmured immediately, his hands moving to claps at Eddie’s forearms. “I’ll always want you.”

Eddie grinned at him, though it was still emotional. He at least managed to keep his tears at bay, blinking rapidly until there wasn’t fear of them falling anymore. He leaned in then to press a soft kiss to Steve’s forehead, his thumbs lightly stroking over Steve’s cheeks. “And I’ll always want you. Hell, baby, I’d marry you right now if it were legal.”

That got Steve’s attention.

He pulled back again, pulling Eddie’s hands from his face to stare at his boyfriend with wide eyes. Again there was only sincerity in Eddie’s gaze, and patience, as he let Steve process and work through his words. To understand just how much Eddie meant it.

Eddie loved him. He knew this of course, but…hell, they hadn’t been dating all that long, all things considered, and he’d once heard Eddie denounce marriage as just another conformist expectation used to take your individuality away, but here was Eddie saying he would marry him if given the chance. He knew Eddie wouldn’t say something like that unless he truly meant it too. Eddie loved him.

“But…we’re so different, Eddie,” he repeated in barely more than a whisper. “A-and I don’t want you to quit your band or Dungeons and Dragons or anything like that for me. I don’t want you conforming for me.”

Eddie just grinned again, his expression so full of love for Steve that it made Steve almost physically ache. “And I don’t want you changing for me,” he simply said, and…and maybe Steve was starting to get that, but…

“But you were so happy when I started listening to metal, and not all of it is bad,” Steve admitted. “I actually liked some of it. More than I thought I would.”

“I was happy,” Eddie admitted right back, letting out a soft sigh. “I was happy to share something with you, happy to help you develop your interest since I thought it was something you wanted. I didn’t mean to push it on you. I was just…I thought that if we had a shared interest like that, you wouldn’t decide I was too much. When you started dressing like this…”

Eddie moved to lightly tug at the hem of Steve’s shirt. “I had been so terrified that you would realize you could do better than someone like me,” he whispered. “Having you not be put off by the way I dressed, by the music I liked, by anything I liked made me happy because it calmed my fears that I’d scare you off or something, that you’d move on to greener and better pastures.”

And that was just not right. Better than Eddie? Someone like that simply didn’t exist. And all because Eddie liked a certain kind of music, or dressed a certain way? Absolutely not.

“Eddie,” Steve breathed, and this time it was him reaching out to cup Eddie’s cheek to make him look at him properly again. “You’re so amazing, Eddie. How in the world could someone better than you exist? You’re a fucking hero, man. And don’t say you’re not,” he said firmly when Eddie opened his mouth to say just that, like he always did when it got brought up. “You are. You’re brave and selfless and literally out your life in the line to protect others. You’re badass, baby. Just like me,” he grinned in tease.

Eddie softly snorted, placing his hand over Steve’s on his cheek so he could hold it as he turned his head slightly to kiss the palm. “You are a badass,” Eddie agreed. “And you’re sweet too, even though you deny that too. I love you so much, and I should have paid more attention to why you were suddenly into all the same things I was instead of just being happy to share them with you.”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand, placing another soft kiss to his palm before trailing his lips into gentle kisses against his fingertips. “And I should have done more to meet you halfway. I should have been doing this from the start,” he admitted, indicating the muted TV. “You were always willing to join my hobbies but I never even offered to join yours. I’m truly very sorry, baby.”

“Please stop apologizing,” Steve complained. “I forgive you, okay? It’s just…you’re…” Steve swallowed, making himself actually stop and consider Eddie’s words, their meaning, their truth. “I’d love you even if you always hated sports,” he said softly, a small light of understanding settling over him. Because if he could love Eddie without needing Eddie to like everything he liked…

“Then can’t I love you even if you hate the things I like?” Eddie murmured, as if finishing his thought for him. “I don’t need you to be a carbon copy of my interests, baby. I love you for you, Steve. I’ve missed your polos and your preppy look,” he grinned. “It’s hot.”

Steve flushed slightly at that, Eddie’s eyes telling him again just how truthful those words were. He hadn’t ever once considered that Eddie actually liked that part of him, not when Eddie always wore dark clothing and looked the way he did. They were so different…

His eyes moved once more over Eddie, taking in that ridiculously pink polo and khaki pants, so unlike the things Eddie would wear but so similar to something Steve would. And…yeah, okay, that was hot, but he didn’t want Eddie to wear it all the time because it just wasn’t him. If Eddie wanted to then of course he’d never say anything about it, but he would miss the way his metalhead usually looked. Like…the way Steve looked now, while Eddie…Eddie looked like how he would have normally dressed.

Because Eddie said he would change for Steve, would give up the things he loved, just to keep Steve happy. But Steve didn’t need that to be happy. He was happy just to have Eddie, exactly the way he was, without Eddie pretending to be something he wasn’t. He didn’t want Eddie to change for him, even though…yeah he would like to be able to share his own interests with Eddie sometimes. And maybe…

Maybe, if Eddie had started dressing like that gradually, started expressing interest in Steve’s hobbies slowly, he wouldn’t notice how much Eddie had been changing to try to fit in with him. Maybe he would have just assumed Eddie was genuinely branching out his own interests because he felt safe enough to do so without being ridiculed, like…like Steve had slowly done.

But Eddie had appeared so drastically changed that Steve couldn’t help but rebel against it, couldn’t help but clock it as wrong, could only see it for what it was:

Bullshit.

Steve grinned suddenly at that revelation. A bright happiness began filling him until he felt like he was full of fizzy soda and Pop Rocks. He realized that it was bullshit, but he wasn’t. What was bullshit wasn’t his love, or his inability to be exactly like Eddie, but the fact that he tried to be someone he wasn’t. Him trying to change who he was was bullshit. Because Eddie?

Eddie loved him anyways. Eddie loved him even if he was an ex-jock prep who cared about his appearance maybe a little too much, who cared about keeping his home and car clean, who listened to popular catchy music on the radio simply because it was fun. Eddie had fallen in love with Steve because of who he was, not who he could change himself into becoming.

Eddie loved him. And love like that could never be bullshit.

When Steve finally looked Eddie in the eyes again, truly looked and saw and heard everything Eddie had been trying to tell him, he felt tears escape down his cheeks again but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Because he got it now. He understood. Eddie hadn’t wanted him to change, he had just been supporting Steve in what he thought Steve wanted.

“I’m such an idiot,” Steve wetly laughed, throwing his arms around Eddie to bury his face in Eddie’s neck.

“Hey now, don’t insult my husband like that,” Eddie admonished, but his words sounded wet too as his own arms moved to wrap around Steve’s back and hold him close.

“We’re not married yet, asshole. You didn’t even ask me,” he pointed out with a giddy roll of his eyes.

“Right, right, silly me,” Eddie said, and Steve could hear the grin in his voice. “Guess I better go buy a ring first. And ask Buckley for her blessing.” Eddie drew in a shaky breath before huffing it out in a laugh. “Maybe she’ll let me keep my balls now.”

Steve pulled back with a confused furrow to his brows. He hadn’t told Eddie that his balls were in any danger.

When Eddie caught his expression, Eddie rolled his eyes next. “After I left, I spent probably a week trying to process everything, trying to figure out where I went wrong and horrified with myself for unknowingly encouraging you into changing for me, going over every little thing I fucked up. Then Buckley showed up and read me the fucking riot act.” He shuddered. “She’s terrifying.”

“I told her not to do that,” Steve frowned, though his lips twitched at his boyfriend’s dramatics. Christ, he loved him so much. And Eddie, somehow, apparently loved him just as much.

“Well I’m glad she did,” Eddie said with a small chuckle and shake of his head. “We came up with all this together,” he added with an indication of his clothing and the TV. “She heard my side of things and realized that if there’s an idiot in our relationship, it’s me. And then we came up with this plan to show you why I’d never want you to be someone you weren’t. Figured if I showed up completely changed too, you’d realize why it wasn’t what I wanted.”

Anxiety hit Steve suddenly and he stared at Eddie with wide eyes. “Wait, you didn’t actually quit the band, did you? Eddie!”

“No, no, not really.” Eddie paused. “Mostly.” He gave a little wincing smile at Steve’s fierce glare. “I told them what I was going to do, as well as saying that I may end up actually quitting if that’s what you needed of me. Because I meant it, Stevie,” he added with his own fierceness. “I love you more than I love being in the band or anything else. You’re it for me, hot stuff.”

“You are an idiot,” Steve groaned, and he didn’t know if he should be upset with Eddie, relieved, or insanely happy. He somehow felt all three at once, giving Eddie’s arm a small slap. “But I am absolutely determined to have a hot and talented famous rockstar boyfriend, Munson, so you better not quit. Or I’m dumping your ass for Jeff,” he said with a wicked little grin.

“Betrayal!” Eddie gasped, his hand moving to clutch at his shirt over his heart, falling back against the couch cushions dramatically.

Steve merely rolled his eyes again, though he couldn’t keep the deliriously happy smile off his face because this was his boyfriend. This dramatic, goofy, absolute loser of a man. He was so fucking lucky.

“And that station wagon out front?” he asked, eyebrow arching.

“Borrowed,” Eddie grinned, propping himself up with an elbow to look at Steve. “Jeff’s mom’s. Really had to make it authentic, ya know?”

“And the baseball knowledge?”

Eddie laughed at that. “Wayne gave me some pointers. I think he was ecstatic to finally be able to talk to me about sports knowing I would listen. He also says we’re all watching the season finale together.”

Steve just rolled his eyes. “It’s called the World Series, asshole.”

“Kind of pretentious to call it that, don’tcha think, seeing as how it’s only America playing?”

Letting out a huff, Steve crawled over Eddie to look down at him, straddling a thigh as both his brows raised high over his forehead. “You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that. But…” Steve’s expression softened into a small, almost shy smile. “Thank you. For loving me.”

Eddie smiled back up at Steve, settling back against the couch cushions and bringing his arms up to lightly hook over his shoulders and crossing them behind Steve’s neck. “Thank you for letting me,” he replied simply. “Now, will you please go back to my preppy sexy boyfriend who listens to ABBA and complains about bad hair days? I miss him dreadfully.”

Steve felt his happiness bubbling up inside him again, grinning down at Eddie before leaning in to take his lips in a giddy kiss. “Maybe you should take your Iron Maiden shirt back then, right now,” he murmured meaningfully against Eddie’s lips.

Eddie grinned beneath him. “Fuck yeah,” he breathed. “And get this pink monstrosity off too.”

Steve pulled back at that, planting his hand flat on Eddie’s chest to stop him from moving to do just that, causing Eddie to still beneath him. Steve slid his gaze over said pink monstrosity, wetting his lips with darkening eyes.

“No,” he murmured, voice roughened as he slid his gaze back up to Eddie’s widening eyes, a soft pink flush entering pale cheeks. “Keep it on.”

And he did.

At least until it was too ruined to be saved. But they could always buy Eddie another polo later.

Steve’s insecurities weren’t magically gone from one conversation, of course, but it proved to be a great start. There were still moments when Steve felt like he wasn’t good enough, but it helped to know that Eddie felt the same way at times too, that they were both so in love and would do anything for the other person.

After that day, the two worked together to find a new middle ground. Steve still supported Corroded Coffin at all their shows, wearing their shirts and other merch frequently, and even kept his studded leather bracelet that matched Eddie’s own. He went back to wearing his polos in his day-to-day life, however, and styling his hair with near ridiculous amounts of hairspray.

They talked about their hobbies, with Eddie making a mix tape of the metal songs that Steve actually ended up liking, and Eddie even found enjoyment in playing the occasional game of ball with Steve and even Lucas and the others sometimes joined in. (Sure, he mostly liked the way Steve looked all sweaty and flushed with exertion, but he had some genuine fun shooting balls into “laundry baskets” all the same too.)

They made compromises in the movies they watched, the foods they ate, and Steve took on a more passive role during DnD nights. His character decided to strike out on his own, in story, though he would occasionally rejoin the adventurers when their paths crossed, allowing Steve to play when he felt in the mood and sit out when he wasn’t. Steve had even cajoled Nancy into rejoining the game with him sometimes, much to the Party’s (especially Dustin’s) delight.

Eddie never really took to polos for regular wear, though he did wear the occasional Henley and Steve had convinced Eddie to take better care of his hair, helping his boyfriend set up a couple different routines based on the time frame he had to work with before events or daily life, earning numerous compliments on the healthy curls he now regularly sported. Steve loved the mornings where they got to primp together, and even Eddie flushed with happiness when they caught each other’s eyes in the mirror or helped each other fluff their hair.

Eddie also summoned the Party and acted like a drill sergeant as he commanded each of them to give Steve’s car a deep cleaning and detailing, shampooing and vacuuming and waxing the inside and outside until the BMW gleamed like practically new. He also helped enforce the rules about leaving no mess behind, either by forbidding open food containers or by picking up after themselves. Steve was so impressed by it that he couldn’t help dirtying the car a little again by taking Eddie into the backseat after everything.

They took down the posters and flyers and random crap that covered Steve’s walls, though Steve kept up the Black Sabbath and Dio posters, even if he made Eddie straighten them up. He also kept up the Corroded Coffin flag Eddie had made him, though he began adding his own decorations as well through encouragement from Eddie. Eddie even got him a banner for his favorite sports team, hanging it up right next to the Corroded Coffin flag. (Later, when Steve eventually moved out of his parents’ abandoned house, Eddie would cut a swatch of the wallpaper from the wall, framing the bit of plaid for Steve to carrying with them to their eventual shared home.)

Robin was a menace, of course, and continually made passing comments about needing earrings. The threat was not lost on Eddie and he always made certain he showered Steve in praise and confirmed his love for him whenever Robin gave him the stink eye. Steve may or may not sometimes signal when he wanted the threat made, especially around important dates like holidays and anniversaries.

And Eddie did make good on his comment about asking Robin’s permission for a certain question, though in his nervousness and excitement he fumbled actually asking Steve for forever and instead accidentally threw the ring at Steve one night after a dinner he’d tried to make but inevitably burned. They ordered take out and laughed about it, then Steve made certain Eddie never had to doubt his ‘yes’ right there in the kitchen. And living room. And bedroom. And then for good measure in the shower.

Steve always remained a prep, and Eddie always remained a metalhead, but over the years they slowly adopted and adapted bits and pieces of each other’s style, though Eddie couldn’t ever wear a polo to tease Steve without Steve immediately dragging him into bed. Or to the nearest flat surface.

There were days that the insecurities would crop up still, of course, for both of them. These days grew less over the years, the commitment Steve and Eddie felt for each other reflected in the matching rings they wore, exchanged during a small ceremony that, though not legal in the eyes of the law, was no less absolute in their hearts.

Because Steve knew now what those insecurities were, what the voice was that whispered that he would never be good enough for anyone, and he knew what to say when they tried to tear him down. And he would smile when he said it, safe, content, and secure in his and Eddie’s love.

“Bullshit.”

As I said before, I am tagging everyone who asked to be tagged, so if I’ve accidentally missed you or tagged the wrong person, I apologize. It’s a lot of people. Heh.

Tagged: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump @gobbledy-gluk-gluk @petalsandpixels @coolgirldad @xxbottlecapx @yesdangerpls @lawrencebshoggoth @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @miss-wright

@brainsteddielyrotted @nerdyglassescheeseychick @ohimamarigold @sofadofax @moss-g0blin @secretly-kait @blossomingblueberries @my-love-of-books @blounette @p0lybl4nkk

@sapphicsforsteve @wearespacedust @mae-liz @stripey82 @tinyplanet95 @0mochiia0 @sunnycycle @jaytriesstrangerthings @hotluncheddie @dragonmama76

@stevieschrodinger @townseleven @estrellami-1 @evillittleguy @novacorpsrecruit @mugloversonly @imaginary-maggie-waggie @pointlessmosswitch @fatiguedclown @prazinos

@thedragonsaunt @bookworm0690 @brazenliar @samsoble @wrenisflying @queenie-ofthe-void @breealtair @highqueenhalalie @steddieassheg0es @theintrovertedintrovert

(rest of tags will be in a reblog, did not realize how many I had agreed to lol my bad)

#fic: bullshit #fix it #angst with a happy ending #steddie angst #steddie h/c #steddie fluff #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #platonic stobin #stranger things #plot thots

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pomegranatesarchive · 7 months ago

Text

he got the girl | george russell

pairing: george russell x wolff!reader

summary: that awkward moment when you get caught going on a date with one of your dads drivers.

liked by georgerussell63, alex_albon, maxverstappen1, and 973,826 others!

f1gossip: y/n wolff was seen last night on a date? with george russell, (yes the mercedes driver) last night in monaco? this was actually very surprising for us as well, thoughts?

view comments below!

user1: no shit

user2: no way george pulled y/n

user3: GEORGE IN THE LIKES ??????

user4: NOT ONLY HIM BUT MAX CHARLES ALEX TOOOO ??

user5: sorry guys 😅😅 but that’s actually me and y/n, not her and that skinny twig 😅😅

user6: maybe they were just hanging out??

user7: NO WAY GEORGE PULLED HER

user8: this is actually crazy

user9: okay guys..but the pictures are actually so cute 🙂‍↕️

user10: RIGJT?? THE WAY HES HOLDING HER JACKET AND PURSE TOO 🥰🥰

alex_albon: holy shit @/georgeussell63 no way you actually got her

georgerussell63: well don’t act so surprised 🙄

maxverstappen1: we will act so surprised. she’s rejected you 10 times.

georgerussell63: she has NOT!

maxverstappen1: sorry, 20 times**

user10: WHAT ARE THESE DRIVERS DOING ON A GOSSIP PAGE ??

charles_leclerc: holy cow 😳

mercedesamgf1: omg no

mercedesamgf1: What the fuck is this. - Toto Wolff

user11: NO GEROGE RUN

user12: SOMEONE CHECK IF GEORGE IS STILL ALIVE

user13: TOTO NOOO

user14: WHY IS EVERYONE HERE ????

liked by georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1, yourusername and 43,837 others!

tagged: yourusername, and georgerussell63

f1: it’s been a while, but y/n is back!

view comments below!

user15: her and lewis 😞😞

user16: THATS MOTHERRRR

user17: she looks so good 🙄

user18: GEORGE BEING TAGGED ???

mercedesamgf1: please un-tag George William Russell. - Toto Wolff

user19: someone PLEASE get this old geezer his own instagram account

user20: the way he adds - Toto Wolff, like we don’t already know ???

user21: oh what i would do to be a fly in the mercedes garage right now

user22: the use of george’s FULL name ??? that boy better run

georgerussell63: 😍😍

leiwshamilton: do you want our boss to kill you?

landonorris: it’s like he WANTS to die

user23: WHY IS HE BEING SO PUBLIC ABOUT TUIS ???

user24: after years of being rejected by y/n he wants everyone to know he finally got her 😭

user25: george finally gets y/n and he loses all fear

f1gossip; y/n was asked about the dating rumors today she was asked “are you and george dating”, she answered, “i think he’s made it very clear, hasn’t he?”

view comments below!

user26: GEORGE FINALLY GOT THE GIRL!!

user27: i low key thought george was having like a manic episode and was pretending to date y/n but this basically confirmed it, happy for them!

user28: LMAO WHATT

user29: okay now toto’s reaction pls

user30: wait but if she’s toto’s daughter? why is her hair like blonde blonde

user31: she dyes her hair religiously

user32: okay but george being like so proud of this relationship is so incredibly cute 😞

user33: netflix is going to eat this up

liked by, yourusername, lewishamilton, georgerussell63, and 926,826 others!

mercedesamgf1: our family 🙏🙏

view comments below!

user34: GEORGE LOOKS SO SCARED 😭😭😭

user35: NO IM DYING THIS IS TOO FUNNY

user36: GEORGE LOOKS LIKE HES BEING HELD AT GUNPOINT

user38: this is hilarious

yourusername: p5 and p7 👏👏

georgerussell63: wanted to make you proud 🥰

user39: OH BROTHER HERE HE GOES

user40: toto will appear in an estimated 3 seconds

mercedesamgf1: 😐 - Toto Wolff.

f1gossip: george russell and toto wolff were seen speaking after the race in monaco, sources say that after a intense chat, they hugged it out, thoughts?

view comments below!

user41: AND HE APPROVES!!!

user42: YAY

user43: ITS OFFICIAL, TOTO APPROVES

user44: okay now i can actually be happy about this relationship

user45: i kinda feel bad that his own daughter didn’t tell him that she was dating someone…

user46: they bro hugged 🥹

user47: so happy for y/n and george ❤️

liked by f1, lewishamilton, danielricciardo, mercedesamgf1, and 637,927 others!

georgerussell63: after 4 years, i finally got the girl 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

view comments below!

f1: GEORGE RUSSELL FINALLY DOES IT EVERYONE!!

landonorris: YEAH RUSSELL 🗣️

oscarpiastri: finally 👏👏

danielriccarido: HELL YEAH

maxverstappen1: i still don’t believe it…

lewishamilton: proud of you man 🫂

charles_leclerc: YAY!!!

carlossainz55: he finally made it🥹🥹

mclaren: she could do better

user48: ADMIN??

yukitsunoda: really?

alex_albon: still not convinced this is real 😅

user49: this whole comment section is killing me 😭

liked by, georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1, lewishamilton, and 736,260 others!

yourusername: when he’s dad approved 😍

view comments below!

mercedesamgf1: eh - Toto Wolff.

yourusername: father pls get instagram

georgerussell63: my beautiful gorgeous exquisite breathtakingly beautiful girl 😍😍🥰🥰

user50: need me a man like THIS.

lewishamilton; simp 🫵

yourusername: ??? who taught you that

lewishamilton; the internet

user51: now get married and have 3 kids !!!

georgerussell63: soon!

mercedesamgf1: NO NOT SOON. - Toto Wolff

f1: beautiful couple 😻

user52: THIS IS ADORABLE

user53: i need me a man who loves me as much as he loves y/n

user54: he waited 4 years for her 🥹🥹

user55: the train tracks looks really delicious right about now

user56: me and who???

user57: why is george kinda sexy…

yourusername: how are you just realizing this now?

user57: IT TOOK YOU FOUR YEARS TO NOTICE????

yourusername; no comment.

. . .

notes: i have my chemistry final tomorrow, wish me luck!

#george russell x reader #george russell x you #george russell social media au #george russell smau #george russell imagine #george russell fluff #george russell fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 social media au #f1 smau

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coff33andb00ks · 5 months ago

Text

Hazy Days - LN

summary: summer fling, don't mean a thing pairing: lando norris x divorced!reader word count: 3.6k warnings: non-explicit smut (mdni), older woman a.n.: fuck quadrant's summer scope vids song: summer nights from Grease

You're doing it again. It's been over a year now and you're still rubbing your ring finger with your thumb. You're not as quite as surprised when you don't feel the rings, and when you look down you're relieved to see that the pale patch of skin has disappeared. I've got to buy a ring, you think. Because, despite everything, you still feel weird without a ring on that finger.

You give your head a shake. The marriage is over. It was over before it officially began, but the divorce has been finalized for almost a month. The settlement is in your account – it's how you're paying for this spontaneous trip.

You're no longer a married woman. A terrifying thought, even now, when your entire identity for nearly 10 years was wife. And now…

Now you don't know what you are.

So you packed a bag, bought a plane ticket on a whim, and now you're at some seaside hotel in the south of France. You're looking out at the people on the beach, and further out at the yachts dotting the Mediterranean.

A place you've always wanted to visit and now you're frozen in the hotel room, scared to death that you won't enjoy it. Like a decadent dessert you've thought about all day that tastes like an old candy bar when you finally get a bite. Like the new Louboutin pumps you'd wanted for your birthday two years ago that had pinched your toes and you haven't worn since.

You've built this up in your head and now you're afraid it won't live up to your expectations.

Babes, enjoy it. This is gonna be so healing for you.

Your best friend's words ring in your mind and you reach for the phone to call her for more reassurance, then remember the time difference. She loves you, but she won't appreciate a phone call this early unless it's an emergency.

"God, get over it. You're not the only newly divorced woman in the world," you mutter to yourself, turning away from the window to finish dressing. You want to do some exploring, get plenty of photos to share, maybe find a few souvenirs.

Your thumb slides over your ring finger as you exit the hotel a little while later and you sigh, turning back to ask the concierge of a nice jewelry store. When you tell him you're interested in purchasing a ring, he knows the perfect place and soon you're on your way, strolling along the winding streets.

The afternoon sun is hot and you breathe a sigh of relief once you step into the shop. The interior or hushed and you're aware of the clerks' eyes all moving to you. A couple young men at the counter are chatting and laughing, not paying attention to you at all, and you venture further into the shop.

The men are looking at bracelets, and a smartly dressed clerk is more than happy to show you the rings, leading you to a low counter and inviting you to sit in the cushioned chair.

"Oh… No, not anything like a wedding or engagement ring," you say as a tray of sparkling diamond rings is brought out. "I… I recently got divorced and I need something to replace my rings. Something that looks nothing like a wedding ring?"

From behind you, you can hear the two men murmuring, their English accents oddly comforting after three days of hearing only French voices. You finally narrow the selection down to two and are trying to decide when movement out the corner of your eye snags your attention.

It's one of the men, peering at necklaces. You steal a glance at him – handsome, well dressed, a head of dark curls – and look back at the rings when he turns his head, embarrassed to be caught looking.

You're focusing on the rings, trying them on and testing out how they feel against your thumb, when he speaks.

"I think the other one looks better."

Jerking your head up, you find yourself looking into a pair of brilliant green eyes.

It's so fucking unfair that his lashes are so pretty.

"Do you?" you ask, looking back at the rings.

"Yeah – unless you want something flashy?"

He's moved close enough you can smell his cologne.

He even smells divine. So fucking unfair.

You switched rings and nodded. "Flashy isn't really me… I'll take this one," you tell the clerk.

The man smiles. "Getting used to a ring?"

"Ah… No," you chuckle. "Can't get used to not having one."

His smile dies and a look of panic flashes over his face. "Um… Sorry?"

You almost laugh. Giving your head a shake, you watch the clerk wrap the ring and wait for her to return. "Don't be."

"Oh," he murmured, smile returning and sliding into a grin. "Congratulations, then."

This time you do laugh. "Thanks."

He gives you a look as the clerk returns, and before you can reach for your wallet he's already handing over his card. You open your mouth to protest but he tips his head. "A congratulations gift," he insists.

His friend approaches, giving you a friendly nod. "What are we congratulating?"

You smile weakly. "The end of my marriage."

"Divorce?" he asks. When you nod, he smirks. "The best thing about marriage, honestly."

"Max."

"What am I supposed to say?" Max protests, holding up his hands.

The first man groans. "You're such a – cheers," he says when the clerk brings his card back. "Let's go before you embarrass me even more."

You're smiling at their banter as you thank the clerk for her assistance. When you stand to make your way out, he's waiting near the door.

"Buy you a drink?" he offers as he opens the door for you.

His name is Lando. Max – pain in my ass – is obviously his best friend and doesn't join you for drinks as he's got to get packed up to leave. When you suggested Lando spend time with him before he goes home, Lando waved it off.

"He lives in England but I see him all the time."

Lando, it turns out, does not live in England. He looks almost embarrassed when you ask where he lives, and when he finally mutters that he lives in Monaco your eyes widen. Surely he's too young to be that well off?

Trust fund, probably. Now you don't feel so bad for his paying for the ring.

"That must be… Interesting," you say, taking a sip of your drink. He's brought you to a chic bar at the beach, and you're sitting on the upper terrace, the slowly sinking sun casting a golden glow over the water.

"I don't really get much time there." He fiddles with the stirrer in his drink. "I'm gone a lot."

Interest piqued, you set your glass down. "Oh?" Maybe he's a model, even if he is a little on the short side. Not that he's that short – he's definitely taller than you. "What do you do?"

"I drive cars." He ducks his head briefly. "Racecars."

"Really? I'm not… I'm a dumb American, the only racing I really know is the Indy 500?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "That's IndyCar."

You listen, fascinated, as he tells you about formula one, which you have heard about but it's not in your orbit. He seems both relieved and amused at the fact you're not into sports, and you can feel him relax as he laughs when you tell him you only watch the Super Bowl every year so you can eat a ton of junk food.

A drink turns into a few, and he's so nice to listen to, so easy to talk to. When he suggests dinner, you hesitate. You don't want to be that woman, newly divorced and falling into bed with the first man that looks at you. Especially one so young—

"How old are you?" you blurt.

It obviously surprises him and, though he was halfway out of his seat he sank back down. "How old are you?"

You refuse to play coy, to fish for compliments like you're desperate. "I'm thirty."

His eyebrows lift. "Twenty-four."

So not that young. More like… younger.

Lando gives you a smile. "Does that cancel dinner?"

You look into his eyes for a long moment then glance out at the view. There's an obvious fork in the road in front of you. One leads to something with this handsome racecar driver, and you have a feeling it's going to be more than dinner. The other leads to the rest of your solo vacation, with the cloud of what could be lingering. Looking at him again, you slowly breathe in.

Expensive cologne. Salt air.

"I'd love dinner," you say, and his smile rivals the setting sun.

You'll never be able to describe the meal you ate. Lando makes it nearly impossible to focus on anything but him. Not in a demanding way. He's just… Magnetic. He tells you stories about his career, about embarrassing moments and highs and lows and talks about his other ventures. How does he have time to sleep? He talks glowingly about Max and has you giggling into your wine over a story of the two of them getting into trouble that left Lando locked out of his parents' home. When he apologizes for talking so much you almost beg him to not stop. But he asks about you, and you can't help thinking he seems genuinely interested.

"My life isn't half as interesting as yours," you say with a shake of your head.

"I don't know… You're divorced, halfway around the world, having dinner with a strange guy. Seems interesting to me," he murmurs.

"Oh, it's a tale as old as time. Girl meets boy, girl falls in love and gives up everything… Girl becomes a woman, boy becomes a toad."

Lando winced. "No kissing to turn him into a prince?"

"He'd have to want the kiss for that to happen."

"What a fucking idiot," Lando says.

You tilt your head to the side. "For being a toad?"

"For not wanting your kiss."

You set your glass down with a surprised gulp. About to call him out for feeding you a line, you pause, seeing the glimmer in his eyes. Without thinking you lick your lips and see his gaze dip down briefly. You don't know what to say or how to react so you sit there, unable to refrain from thinking about how a kiss from Lando would feel.

"His loss." Lando's voice was barely above a murmur. Then, shockingly, his cheeks darken and his tongue darts over his lips. He looks down at his plate and you can hear his sigh before he looks up, his expression serious. "You gave up everything?"

"A slight exaggeration, really." You shrug, picking at your food. "I had dreams that I put on hold to help him achieve his."

"I've never been married. But, like…" He sighs, setting his fork down. "That doesn't seem fair?"

"Life isn't—"

"I know, but marriage isn't life is it?" His face screws up at that but he forges ahead. "Isn't the whole point of it to support and help each other achieve their dreams?"

Smiling sadly, you nod. "I thought it was. He thought different."

"What dreams did you put on hold?" he asks after a moment.

"I wanted to get published." You look down at your half-eaten food. "When I was a kid, I loved reading and making up stories… I was studying for my degree in English – I planned to teach writing while working on my novels, because it's hard to make money doing it at first, and… Now it's too late."

"Why do you say that?"

"I'd have to go back to school and—"

"Yeah? Would you have to start over completely?"

"No." You can't remember how many credit hours you have left, but it would only take a phone call or an email to find out. "I wasn't too far from my degree."

"Then what's stopping you?" he challenged softly.

You don't have an answer. Nothing but the fear of failing, and you don't know him well enough to admit that.

"I don't read." He winces a bit at the admission. "Dyslexic, yeah? It's a miracle I finished school. But anyway. You write a novel and I promise to read it."

A smile pulls at your lips. "You'd do that for me? Someone you don't even know?"

"Of course." He grins. "I believe in supporting the arts."

He drives you back to the hotel in his sleek sportscar and for once you understand the allure of a purring engine and soft leather seats. There's no impending pressure when he offers to see you to your room, only the heat of his hand at the small of your back and the enticing scent of his cologne.

At your door, he hesitates. "Can I kiss you?"

Has anyone ever asked your consent for a kiss? You don't think so and the realization makes you sad, but you push that away because you've wanted him to kiss you since halfway through dinner.

His lips are a lighted match to kindling. The heat and desire are immediate and you're leaning into him, frightened by the strength of your want but craving more. It's been an embarrassingly long time since you've felt this way and you're aware that it may be even longer before you feel it again. So when the door finally clicks open you don't hesitate to step inside, pausing and reluctantly breaking the kiss to look up at him.

And wish you'd googled how to invite a man into your hotel room without sounding desperate.

But you don't have to ask.

"Okay to come in?" he whispers.

"God yes," you gasp.

His lips are on yours before the door closes behind him. Wrapping your arms around him, you sink into the kiss, snatching in breaths as his hands cradle your head. A soft whine is muffled against his tongue as you grip the front of his shirt, knees nearly forgotten as the tenderness of his touch wars the ferocity of his kiss.

"Fuck," he mumbles against your lips, his hands beginning to wander, molding you closer against him, his breath hitching as he clutches your hips. He pulls his head back slightly and you can feel his harsh breathing as he stares at you before crashing his lips to yours again.

The need grows stronger, almost primal, and you're backing towards the bed, gasping as his hands pull at your dress, nearly ripping it. Craving the feel of his skin, you do the same to his shirt, barely noticing the trail of clothing on the floor, too focused on his touch and his smell and the decadence of his kiss. He guides you down, swallowing your gasp as your bare skin touches the cool sheets.

Breaking the kiss with a harsh moan, he braces his hands on either side of you and lifts up slightly. He's panting, lips parted, and he gives a soft chuckle of surprise. "I didn't plan on this."

You lick your lips, still tasting him. And only craving more. "Neither did I."

He blinks, eyes almost wild as they dart from yours to your lips and back again. And all you can think—

Beautiful. Breathtakingly so. You know it'll never happen but the romantic inside you wishes you could wake up to his eyes every morning.

He leans down, and his kiss sends every coherent thought away. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, his hair softer than you thought it would be. His hands are rough but gentle at the same time, in your hair and trailing down your sides. Your name is a longing moan vibrating against your throat as you trace the muscles of his back.

"Lando," you gasp, arching beneath him.

"I know… I know." Hot breath at your ear, fingers digging into your thigh. Guiding your leg over his hip.

"Please." It's a soft moan.

"Fuck." His lips move to yours, his gasping whimper muffled.

The frantic need is still there but he's unhurried, as though he's trying to memorize every breath, every touch. When your hand flies out to grasp the sheet his hand follows, fingers threading between yours and gripping tightly. You're lost in the haze, sweat forming between you, sheets twisting. Ecstasy rises, peaks, and it's so sudden and delicious your cries ring out.

"Y/n." A desperate whine that only increases the bliss.

Rolling, twisting, arching. It's feverish and needy and so good so so good.

You both collapse, your hands in his sweat-damp hair. Panting, tingling, you wait for the awkwardness that never comes. His touch is tender, his lips gentle on yours before he's pulling away, murmuring that he'll get a towel. He's back before you can catch your breath, and by the time you can breathe he's kissing you again.

The sky outside is turning gray when you both breathlessly agree to get some sleep. You half expect him to leave, but he's there when you wake up, sleeping on his stomach next to you, his arm slung across your waist, his gentle snores telling you he's fast asleep.

And though you distinctly remember him saying he was going back to Monaco that day, he sticks around. Blushes and shrugs when you ask him about it over lunch, then suggests borrowing a friend's yacht for the night. The days bleed into the nights, a blurred span of time of sightseeing, swimming, and Lando.

When it's time for you to pack up to go home you feel a little bereft. But the vacation can't last forever. You've got to go back to real life, figure out how you'll live as a completely free woman. And he's got to get back to his life, jetting around the world and undoubtedly breaking hearts.

You exchange numbers and he promises to keep in touch, but you know you'll be forgotten before your plane takes off. You've been a pleasant distraction for his summer break, nothing more.

You're about to board when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. From Lando.

- You dropped your ring in my car.

As you stare at the words, you realize you haven't rubbed your ring finger in nearly a week. A picture appears on the screen, the ring – that he bought – resting in his palm.

- Hold onto it for me?

He won't. He'll give it away or sell it or take it back to the shop.

But, when you're back home and have exchanged texts with him and even a couple phone calls – yes I promise I contacted an advisor, I'm signing up for classes – and he lets you know his break is over and he's getting back to work, you cave and pull up footage of him in an interview.

He looks different on the screen of your laptop. Good, but different. And you can only focus on the necklace that's just visible under his (hideous really) orange shirt. When he leans, it shifts, and you see it.

Your ring.

"Are you still hung up on her?"

Lando's head snaps up at Max's question. "What?"

His friend gestures to the phone in Lando's hand. "That American?"

He feels his cheeks heat and realizes Max knows he's looking at your Instagram. "I'm not hung up."

Max just looks at him.

"I'm just checking on her," he mutters.

With a sigh, Max softens and sits next to him. "It's okay to like her, you know."

He huffs, his hand reaching to fiddle with the ring on his necklace. "She was just supposed to be a fling."

"But she wasn't," Max says after a moment.

Lando shakes his head. "I don't know," he whispers.

Silence lingers, stretches as his thumb hovers over your most recent post.

Then, softly. "Am I stupid?"

Max shoots him a look.

"For thinking it was special," he adds before his friend can insult him. "For thinking she thinks it was special."

"Was it special?"

He swallows hard, rolling the ring between his fingers as he looks at the post, a photo of a cup of coffee next to a laptop. Up past my bedtime parsing Austen. Liking it, he closes the app and locks his phone.

Was it special? Or was it just the great sex and no strings that had him thinking it was? At first, in those days immediately after you'd left, he'd only thought about the sex. How freeing it had been, knowing he wouldn't see you again and could let inhibitions go. But with each week that passed the sex wasn't the only thing he thought about.

Laughter and sunshine. Salty air and sweet conversation. Honeyed voice and understanding eyes.

He lifts his head, meeting Max's eyes. He doesn't have to say it. Max has known him for more than half his life. But he answers.

"Yes."

Taglist:

#f1 #lando norris #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #my writings > ln #did i probably forget to tag some people? yes but it's 4:30am so

849 notes · View notes

logicalpearl · 1 month ago

Text

Next Mrs. Hughes...

synopsis: y/n and Quinn spend time at the lake house. she overhears Quinn's plans for the future

warnings: making out, descriptions of sex, slight breeding kink, MINORS DNI, 18+

wc: 1.5k

This could be read as a part two to this

*not my gif*

You and Quinn have been dating for 10 months now. This means you are officially invited to the Hughes’ lake house over the summer. 2 months of just soaking up the sun and spending unlimited time with Quinn, his family, and your numerous friends. Finally, getting Quinn’s almost undivided attention since the season is now over and he can relax before training starts.

Your relationship with Quinn has progressed rapidly. Being together for almost a year will do that, you are now looking at moving in with Quinn once your lease is over in August. You have already started moving some of your things to his apartment since you spend so much time there. His family has welcomed you with open arms, especially after seeing how well you handle Quinn, even when he’s cranky. You also were very good at wrangling all of the boys when they got too rowdy or if it was dinner time.

Like now, you are attempting to get all of the boys off the boat and up to the house to help you set the table. Quinn and you have been in the kitchen for a good chunk of the afternoon prepping a huge meal for everyone. After finally getting the boys to calm down a little and get ready for dinner you walk back inside to check on Quinn. As you are rounding the corner you hear Quinn’s hushed voice along with Ellen’s. You halt in your tracks, not trying to eavesdrop but also not wanting to interrupt the moment. What you hear though makes all of the blood rush to your cheeks.

“Mom, I’m going to marry her and she’s going to make a great Mom one day,” you hear Quinn whisper. Your heart flutters, you knew that the relationship was serious and while you had known Quinn was it for you, neither of you had fully voiced your opinions about marriage and kids just yet. You could hear Ellen clap her hands together before replying, “Oh, Quinn! That makes me so happy to hear. Do you need any help from me? Have you bought a ring? When are you going to ask? Does she-”

Quinn cuts off his mom’s rambling with a quiet chuckle, “Slow down, Mom, I have a ring in mind and I’m not thinking of asking until Halloween time, that is her favorite holiday after all,” you can hear Quinn walking around the kitchen and realize you need to make yourself known before you are caught. You quickly open and shut the sliding door louder than before and walk into the kitchen. After walking in you notice that Quinn’s cheeks are slightly pink and Ellen is wearing a dopey smile on her face as she looks at you.

You walk up to Quinn, grabbing his hand, before looking up at him, “Everything going okay in here, handsome? Do you need me to do anything else for you?” You round out your eyes to appear as innocent as possible, Quinn clears his throat before replying, “Uh- No, angel. The food is almost done, if you and Mom want to grab some of the salads and bring them outside that would be great. I will meet you out there with the main stuff in just a few minutes,” You nod your head at Quinn, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek before turning to grab the salads and take them outside.

You and Ellen head out to set everything on the table. The boys profusely thanked you both as they were absolutely famished after drinking and being on the boat all day. Quinn came out shortly after with the main dish and everyone quickly dug in. You sat quietly next to Quinn with a hand on his thigh while you ate. Listening to all of the boys tell stories from previous summers that had your stomach hurting from laughing so hard.

After dinner, the boys were quick to grab all of the plates, Jack walking over and placing a kiss on the top of your head, telling you they would handle all of the clean up since you did so much for the meal. Jack and Luke had been especially sweet on you after finding out you were dating Quinn. The three of you just clicked and Quinn couldn’t be happier that you got along so well with his brothers.

Once the table was cleaned up the boys decided to head back out on the boat with Ellen and Jim. You had told Quinn you were going to read and relax in your room and he decided to stay with you. You knew he was going to do this, and this meant you would have the whole house to yourselves for at least two hours. After hearing Quinn talk about marriage and kids earlier it had you riled up, you had to do something about it.

Quinn held your hand as you both walked up to your shared room. Quinn walked in first and you shut and locked the door behind you before leaning your back on it. Quinn gave you a confused look as you hadn’t walked further into the room. You looked at him through slightly hooded eyes before speaking up, “I overheard what you were saying to your mom in the kitchen, handsome. That you want to make me your wife, to let me have your babies…” You trailed off while biting your lip.

Quinn wore a slightly shocked expression before it was quickly overtaken by lust. You could see his eyes darken before he walked over to you. His hands settled on your hips while he came close enough that your noses brushed, “D’you like the idea of that, Angel? You want me to make you the next Mrs. Hughes? Fuck you full of my babies? Oh, of course you do, just look at the way you’re clenching your pretty thighs for me,” Quinn clicked his tongue at you before capturing your lips in a bruising kiss.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you lost yourself in the feel of him. He moved closer to push you harder into the door, hips flush as he moaned into your mouth. He pulled away only to whisper a single command, “Jump.” You were quick to wrap your legs around his hips, arms tangling around his neck as he carried you to bed. He set you down gently before climbing over you. Quinn was always so gentle with you, making sure you were comfortable before continuing.

Quinn knew you were on birth control and that actually getting you pregnant now was not part of the plan, but he couldn’t stop himself from wanting it. He wanted to stuff you full, make sure the only thing you could feel was him. It was overwhelming, these feelings the both of you had, it was carnal.

Clothes came off quickly and before you knew it, Quinn’s cock was fully seated inside of you. He let you adjust to the stretch of him before setting a consistent rhythm. One that hit the deepest spots within you, making you writhe beneath him. He pinned your hips to the mattress as his thrusts sped up, slowly losing his resolve. You knew he was close and so were you. Leaning up you whispered in his ear knowing it would send him over the edge, “Quinn, let me make you a daddy” You breathy moan in his ear along with your words caused his thrusts to falter. He groaned, burying his head in your neck, and thrusting as deep in you as he could. You could feel the warmth of his release mixing with yours.

He stayed inside of you for a little bit longer before slowly pulling out. Both of you winced at the feeling before Quinn looked down between your legs. He looked mesmerized at his cum leaking out of you. Before he could stop himself he reached down and stuffed two fingers inside of you, pushing his cum back in. You moaned at the sensitivity and grabbed his wrist. Quinn looked up at you with wide eyes, “Shit- Sorry, princess, I couldn’t help myself, gotta make sure it takes. I gotta keep you full of me, baby.”

Your eyes slightly rolled back at that, pulling him down to kiss you. He eventually pulled his fingers out from between your thighs and you were quick to lick them clean. Quinn chuckled and laid down next to you, hauling you into his arms and taking deep breaths. Neither of you expected that this was how your night was going to end, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Quinn kissed your forehead, “I cannot wait to make you my wife, or for us to start our own family when we are ready, I want forever with you.” Your eyes closed as you basked in the moment, tears gathering on your waterline because of the immense amount of love you felt for Quinn. All you could do was nod and mutter, “Me too, I love you so much.” After that you and Quinn fell asleep completely content and so in love.

#quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #nhl players #nhl hockey #nhl #nhl imagine

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featherandferns · 3 months ago

Text

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."

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urdreamydoodles · 3 months ago

Note

Hi! First, I would like to say I love your content! It really makes my day. So, I would like to thank you for that! And I would like to request a how they officially got together for the X-Men characters (especially Laura and Wanda. I love them but also I love them all) if that's possible.

X-Men x Reader

How you became official

You have shared close, unspoken feelings with your crush but you're waiting for the relationship to become official. The X-Men—each overcome their personal hesitations, and with deep emotions, they finally commit to the relationship, making your bond official.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Erik Lehnsherr, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Wade Wilson, Rogue, Wanda Maximoff & Laura Kinney

Pleasure is all mine ♡ I am so happy when I hear that people like what I do—like SO HAPPY. Hope you like it! — Love, Marie, your friendly marvel fangirl

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

- The tension between you and Logan had always been palpable. For months, there had been lingering touches, teasing remarks, and stolen glances. You’d even shared a few heated kisses that left both of you breathless. But Logan, true to his nature, was hesitant to fully acknowledge whatever it was that had blossomed between you. He’d always been protective, always watching you with those sharp eyes, making sure no harm came your way, yet he kept his distance emotionally, unsure of what to do with his feelings.

- One evening, after a particularly exhausting mission, you and Logan found yourselves alone at the mansion, both bruised and tired. He insisted on patching you up, even though your injuries were minor. Sitting on the bed, his fingers brushed over your skin as he tended to a small cut on your arm. There was a silence that settled between you, heavier than usual. His hands lingered on your skin a little longer than necessary, and when your eyes met his, the unspoken words hung in the air. He let out a soft sigh, his usual gruff demeanor melting away.

- “I ain’t good at this, darlin’,” Logan finally muttered, running a hand through his tousled hair. “But I can’t keep pretending like you don’t mean everything to me.” His admission caught you by surprise, but it also felt like something you’d been waiting to hear for a long time. You moved closer to him, resting a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “Then stop pretending,” you whispered softly, leaning in, your lips brushing his. This time, when he kissed you, there was no hesitation, no pulling back. It was real, raw, and full of the emotions he’d been hiding. That night, as he held you close, Logan made it clear that you were his, and he was yours, officially.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- With Remy, it had always been a game of flirtation, a dangerous dance of witty banter and stolen moments. He was a charmer, no doubt, but beneath all the swagger and smirks, you saw the depth of his feelings for you. Over time, the teasing kisses and suggestive comments became something more, something real. You hadn’t put a label on it yet—Remy never liked being tied down to definitions—but there was no denying that you both felt it. He made you feel like the only person in the room, even when surrounded by others. However, despite the intensity, neither of you had ever called yourselves a couple.

- One night, after a long and exhausting mission, the two of you found yourselves alone on the mansion’s rooftop. Remy had brought a bottle of wine, as he often did, and the two of you sat side by side, the cool night air making you both huddle closer. You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, and as usual, the easy conversation between you flowed, sprinkled with his usual innuendos. But tonight, there was something different in the air—something heavier, more intimate. He looked at you, his red-on-black eyes softer than usual, his smirk replaced by a more genuine expression.

- “Y’know, cher,” Remy began, swirling the wine in his glass, “I been thinkin’. You an’ me, we’ve been dancin’ ‘round dis thing long enough, non?” You raised an eyebrow, intrigued but unsure of where he was going with this. “And what ‘thing’ are we dancing around, exactly?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips. He leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against your ear as he whispered, “Whatever it is dat makes me think about you every damn day, even when I’m supposed to be focusin’ on somethin’ else.”

- The confession made your heart race, and for once, Remy wasn’t hiding behind his charm or teasing nature. He was being real, vulnerable even. You turned to face him fully, searching his eyes for any hint of hesitation, but all you saw was sincerity. “So, what are we, then?” you asked softly. He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “How ‘bout you be mine, officially?” he suggested, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. Before you could respond, he kissed you—slow, deep, and full of the emotions he’d kept hidden for so long. When he pulled back, he smiled at you, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Now dat’s official,” he said with a wink, and from that moment, you were his, and he was yours.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

- Kurt had always been sweet, gentle, and respectful of whatever it was between you. The two of you had shared some deeply intimate moments, though never anything too forward. There were stolen kisses, hand-holding in private, and soft words exchanged when no one else was around. You’d grown incredibly close, and though the connection between you was undeniable, Kurt seemed hesitant to take things further. He’d often expressed his concern about his appearance, about how people saw him, and though you reassured him constantly that you didn’t care, he couldn’t shake the self-doubt.

- After a particularly hard day at the mansion, you found Kurt sitting alone in the chapel he frequented. He looked lost in thought, his blue tail swishing behind him as he sat in the quiet. You approached him cautiously, not wanting to disturb his moment of peace, but he noticed you right away. “Ah, mein Schatz,” he greeted with a warm smile, his yellow eyes lighting up at the sight of you. You smiled back, sitting next to him, and for a few moments, the two of you simply sat in silence. There was something comforting about being in his presence, even without words.

- Eventually, Kurt broke the silence. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us,” he admitted, his voice soft but steady. You glanced at him, your heart skipping a beat. “And?” you prompted, curious but not wanting to pressure him. He sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I… I want us to be more, but sometimes I wonder if I deserve someone like you,” he confessed, his insecurities showing through. You frowned, gently placing your hand on his arm. “Kurt, I don’t care about appearances, or what others might think. I care about you. And if you want us to be more, then let’s be more.”

- His eyes met yours, full of uncertainty but also hope. Slowly, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “You truly mean that?” he asked softly, his voice almost trembling. You nodded, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Yes, Kurt. I want us to be official.” His smile was soft but filled with so much warmth that it melted your heart. Leaning forward, he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, careful and reverent, as if he was afraid to break you. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “I will do my best to make you happy, always.”

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

- Erik was different. Your relationship with him had always been complicated, filled with tension and unspoken words. Though you had shared many intimate moments—his lips against yours, his hands on your skin—it never felt quite solidified. Erik was a man driven by his convictions, always focused on the larger picture of mutant survival, and it sometimes felt like there was no room in his life for something as trivial as romance. But you knew better. You saw the way his eyes lingered on you when he thought no one was watching, the way he softened in your presence. Still, despite the closeness you shared, neither of you had ever put a label on what you were.

- One evening, after a particularly heated discussion about the future of mutants, you found yourselves alone in his quarters. The conversation had left you both on edge, but rather than arguing, you simply stood there, the air between you charged with tension. Erik had always been a man of few words, and tonight was no exception. He sat in his chair, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. You could tell he was deep in thought, and you wondered if it was about you, about what the two of you had—or didn’t have.

- Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Erik spoke. “You know, there’s not much room for… affection in the world I envision,” he said, his voice low and contemplative. You felt a pang in your chest at his words, but before you could respond, he continued. “But you… you are an exception,” he admitted, his gaze finally meeting yours. “You’ve become more important to me than I anticipated. More important than I intended.” His admission caught you off guard, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond.

- “Does that mean…?” you trailed off, not wanting to push too far. Erik stood up then, walking over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “It means that I cannot imagine a world without you in it,” he said, his voice steady. “And that terrifies me.” You reached out, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “You don’t have to be afraid of that, Erik. I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was both tender and possessive. When he pulled back, his voice was firm. “Then it’s official. You are mine, and I am yours.” From that moment on, Erik made it clear that, though his cause was still his priority, you were his greatest exception.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- Scott was always a man of discipline, order, and precision. Your relationship had started slowly, marked by cautious glances and subtle touches. You’d spent countless nights together, sharing intimate moments that only hinted at something more. But with Scott, it was never simple. His responsibilities as a leader weighed heavily on him, and he often hesitated when it came to personal matters. You both knew that your relationship had grown beyond casual, but Scott’s reluctance to make it official created a barrier between you.

- One afternoon, you found yourselves alone in the mansion’s common area, the rest of the team out on a mission. You were reading quietly while Scott went over some paperwork, his usual serious demeanor fully in place. After a while, you glanced up at him, unable to hold back any longer. “Scott, we need to talk,” you said softly, setting your book aside. He looked up from his work, his brow furrowing slightly. “About what?” he asked, though you could tell he already knew what was coming.

- “About us,” you clarified, leaning forward slightly. “We’ve been doing this… whatever this is, for a while now, but we’ve never actually said what we are.” Scott’s face softened, and he set his papers down, giving you his full attention. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know, and it’s not because I don’t want to. It’s just… I have a lot of responsibilities. I can’t afford to be distracted.”

- You felt a flicker of frustration but kept your voice calm. “I’m not asking you to choose between me and your duties, Scott. I just want to know where we stand.” He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable behind his visor. Then, to your surprise, he stood up and walked over to you, kneeling down so he was at eye level. “You’re important to me. More important than I’ve let on,” he admitted, his voice quiet but firm. “I want this. I want you. And I’m ready to make it official, if you are.”

- His words caught you off guard, but a warm feeling spread through your chest. You smiled, leaning in to kiss him gently. “I’m ready,” you whispered against his lips. From that moment on, Scott was fully committed to your relationship, making sure you knew just how much you meant to him, even as he balanced the weight of leadership.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

- With Jean, things had always been intense. Your connection was undeniable, both emotionally and mentally. She could feel your emotions as clearly as her own, and you could sense her thoughts even without telepathy. You had shared stolen kisses and moments of passion, but the two of you had never defined your relationship. Jean was constantly worried about the power she held, about losing control, and that fear often bled into your relationship. Despite her deep feelings for you, she hesitated to make anything official, afraid of what could happen if her powers ever spiraled out of control.

- One evening, after a particularly stressful mission, you found Jean sitting by the lake behind the mansion. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, and her usually vibrant eyes were filled with uncertainty. You approached her quietly, sitting down beside her. She didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel the storm of emotions swirling within her. “Jean,” you said softly, “what’s going on? You’ve been distant lately.”

- She let out a sigh, resting her chin on her knees. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Of what?” you asked, even though you already had an idea. She glanced at you, her eyes filled with worry. “Of losing control. Of hurting you.” The vulnerability in her voice broke your heart, and you gently took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You won’t hurt me, Jean. I trust you.”

- Jean looked at you for a long moment, her telepathy allowing her to sense the sincerity behind your words. Slowly, she leaned into you, resting her head on your shoulder. “I want to be with you, officially,” she whispered. “But I need you to know that sometimes… I get scared of what I am. What I could become.” You wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. “I’m not afraid of you, Jean. Whatever happens, we’ll face it together.”

- That was the moment when your relationship became something more than just fleeting kisses and stolen moments. Jean allowed herself to open up to you completely, and from that day on, you were her anchor, the one person she could always rely on to ground her, even when the Phoenix inside her threatened to rise.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

- Being in a "not-official" relationship with Wade Wilson was a rollercoaster. You knew what you were getting into from the start: snarky comments, dark humor, and an unpredictability that left you on your toes. You and Wade had already shared kisses, and he was not shy about his attraction to you. However, there was an unspoken agreement between you two not to put labels on it, at least not yet. Wade often deflected serious conversations with jokes or by breaking into some random monologue about chimichangas, but you knew he cared—he just had a hard time showing it in a conventional way.

- One day, you were patching him up after yet another dangerous mission. Wade winced slightly as you applied antiseptic to a particularly nasty wound, and for once, he was uncharacteristically quiet. You caught his eye, pausing your movements. “What’s going on, Wade? You’ve been… less annoying than usual today.” He cracked a half-hearted smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You know, sweetheart, I’ve been thinking—maybe you deserve someone a bit more… stable. Someone who doesn’t get blown up every other day.”

- You frowned, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Wade, I knew what I was signing up for. If I wanted someone normal, I wouldn’t be here patching you up. I’d be out with some guy who can’t even tell a good joke.” He chuckled at that, but there was still hesitation in his eyes. You sighed, leaning closer. “Listen, I care about you. A lot. And I’m not going anywhere. So maybe we should stop pretending this isn’t something more.”

- Wade’s eyes softened at your words, and for a moment, he was vulnerable—something rare for him. “You really want this, huh? The whole 'you and me' thing?” You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, I do.” With that, Wade pulled you into a surprisingly tender kiss, his usual bravado replaced by something more genuine. “Alright then,” he murmured against your lips. “Guess we’re official now, huh? Sorry, you’re stuck with me.” You laughed, knowing full well that life with Wade would be chaotic, but it would also be full of love, in his own unique way.

Rogue

- With Rogue, everything was complicated. You had both grown close over time, sharing moments that teetered between friendship and something more, but her powers always made it difficult to take that next step. Despite that, the two of you had kissed—carefully, with gloves and all—and it had left both of you wanting more. But Rogue was hesitant, always afraid of hurting you, of losing control. So, the relationship remained unofficial, a constant dance between affection and restraint.

- One evening, you were sitting on the porch of the X-Mansion, the cool breeze ruffling your hair. Rogue sat beside you, her gloved hands fidgeting in her lap. You could tell something was weighing on her mind, and after a few minutes of silence, she finally spoke. “Ah’ve been thinkin’… maybe it’s not fair to keep you waitin’ like this. Bein’ with me isn’t exactly easy.”

- You turned to her, surprised by her words. “Rogue, I’m not waiting for anything. I’m here because I care about you, and I’m willing to figure this out, no matter how hard it is.” She looked at you, her green eyes filled with uncertainty. “But what if ah hurt you? What if ah lose control?” You reached out, gently taking one of her gloved hands in yours. “We’ll take it slow, like we always have. I trust you, Rogue. And I’m not going anywhere.”

- She looked down at your joined hands, her expression softening. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” You nodded, your heart swelling with affection for her. “I am. I don’t care about the risks. I just want to be with you.” Rogue’s lips curved into a small smile, and she leaned in, brushing a soft, gloved kiss against your cheek. “Ah reckon we’ve been dancin’ around this long enough,” she said softly. “Ah’m ready to make it official… if you are.” You smiled back at her, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “I’m more than ready.”

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

- With Wanda, your relationship had always been filled with intense emotions, as expected with someone as powerful and passionate as the Scarlet Witch. You had shared a deep connection since the moment you met. The stolen kisses and the soft touches between the two of you hinted at something more, but neither of you had labeled it yet. Wanda had always been cautious, worried about the risks her powers posed to those she loved. Despite that, there was an undeniable chemistry that neither of you could ignore. She was protective of you, more so than anyone else, and that spoke volumes.

- One day, after a stressful battle, you found her sitting alone on the edge of a cliff near the mansion, gazing out into the horizon. You knew she often retreated when things got overwhelming, but this time, you weren’t going to let her push you away. You sat down beside her, your shoulder brushing against hers, and for a while, neither of you spoke. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable; it was comforting in its own way. But you could sense the storm of emotions brewing within her.

- “I’m afraid,” Wanda admitted softly, her voice barely audible. You turned to her, reaching out to take her hand in yours. “Of what?” you asked, your thumb gently rubbing circles over her knuckles. She glanced at you, her red eyes glowing faintly. “Of losing control. Of hurting you. Of losing you.” Her vulnerability touched your heart, and you squeezed her hand, pulling her closer. “You won’t lose me,” you promised, “I’m not going anywhere.” You leaned in, pressing your forehead against hers, feeling the warmth of her breath on your skin.

- In that moment, something shifted between the two of you. The walls she had built around her heart began to crumble, and for the first time, she allowed herself to fully open up to you. Wanda kissed you then, soft and slow, her fingers tangling in your hair. When she pulled back, her eyes were full of determination. “I want this,” she said firmly, “I want us. Officially.” You smiled at her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” you replied. And from that moment on, Wanda made sure you knew just how much you meant to her, letting you in completely.

Laura Kinney (X-23/Wolverine)

- Laura had always been a difficult person to read, with her guarded personality and hardened exterior. But over time, you’d broken through her defenses, forming a bond that went deeper than either of you had expected. Though the two of you had shared kisses and moments of closeness, Laura had never fully allowed herself to label your relationship, hesitant to accept something she didn’t fully understand. Despite her tough nature, she had a soft spot for you, one that she tried to hide, but it was always there, just beneath the surface.

- After a dangerous mission that nearly cost you both your lives, you found yourselves alone in one of the mansion’s training rooms. Laura was pacing back and forth, frustration etched across her features. You knew that look—she was angry at herself, angry for not being able to protect you the way she wanted to. “You could’ve died,” she growled, stopping in front of you. “And it would’ve been my fault.” You stepped closer to her, reaching out to grab her wrist gently. “But I didn’t,” you said softly, “We’re both okay.”

- Laura’s green eyes locked with yours, and for a moment, you could see the fear and pain swirling within her. She pulled away from your touch, running a hand through her dark hair. “I don’t know how to do this,” she muttered, her voice raw with emotion. “I don’t know how to be… with someone.” You could hear the vulnerability in her words, and it broke your heart. Stepping forward again, you cupped her face in your hands, forcing her to look at you. “You don’t have to be perfect,” you whispered, “Just be with me.”

- The tension between you melted away as Laura finally allowed herself to let go. She kissed you then, her lips urgent and desperate, as if she was trying to prove something to both you and herself. When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her breath heavy. “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered. You smiled, brushing your thumb over her cheek. “You won’t,” you promised, “I’m not going anywhere.” From that moment, Laura stopped running from her feelings and embraced the fact that she wanted you in her life—officially. She may not have been good with words, but her actions spoke louder than anything else.

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