#and then friend a flips out and tries to kill friend b

[mentally-gone002]

keep him safe

summary: y/n brings spencer to her apartment after noticing him acting differently. 

warnings: mentions of drugs, addiction (i think), blood, guns

a/n: this takes place a few weeks after S3 Ep12 (3rd life) where that kid is killed in front of spencer… and yeah!!! also i apologize cuz i don’t know what addiction is like so hence idk how to write it but i tried… pls enjoy🤓

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7:33 pm

outside the building housing the BAU office it was dark and quiet, only filled with the sound of the few cars that passed and loud chirping of cicadas. it was peaceful compared to the past case that only ended hours before this. 

everyone on the BAU team filed into the building to settled into their desks and get a few files of work completed before they went home to repeat the process the next day. some finished their work quicker; the some was hotch, prentis, rossi, jj and garcia. they all left with quick and tired goodbyes to the remaining members of the team until the only tree left were y/n and spencer and morgan. 

when morgan did leave he shot a suggestive look at the two youngest agents. “have fun tonight you two.” he smirked. y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything. 

spencer was working slow for once, his eyes not taking in all the words of the page at the quick rate they usually do. his fingers tapped at his desk and made the pen in his dominant hand flip and twist. he was fidgeting more than he usually did. 

y/n noticed this of course. because she was just one bullpen away from him and because they were close friends… and she was a profiler. she knew when something was picking his brain, good or bad. he had been like this for a few weeks and today was the day she would step in. because she knew spencer. he wouldn’t reach out until he was too far into a hole he had dug for himself.

she watched him for half an hour in between work until she swiveled in her seat, turning it until her legs were free from beneath the desk. she stood up and walked around to his desk. 

“knock, knock.” she interrupted the silence with an accompanying wrap of her knuckles against his desk. she didn’t want to startle him, as he seemed to be on edge already. “you doing alright with that?” the question she asked was gentle while she leaned her hip against the desks edge and stared down at the brown haired man as he stared back. 

he shrugged. “i can’t really focus on it.” spencer confessed with a tired voice. his eyes had early signs of bruising underneath them that she caught onto before they disappeared behind his thin fingers that pressed into the corners of his eyes in exhaustion. 

a sigh flowed from her nose. she dropped her head to the side and her cheek smushed against her shoulder. “you okay?” she was concerned for him; he’d been quieter than usual on the way home. 

spencer nodded. “yeah, yeah. i’m okay, just- just can’t focus.” he told her as he slumped back into his chair. his pen was abandoned on the open file on the table. he stared blankly at the case file, almost in horror. 

she looked with him at the papers with the inside of her cheek held between her teeth, thinking to herself prior to flipping the file closed. spencer sat up a little with his mouth opening but she shushed him. “you can work on it tomorrow, okay? we’re gonna go home.” y/n said to him with a tone that told spencer not to fight her in this. 

“you said ‘we’ and ‘home’ in the same sentence. i don’t understand.” spencer followed her with his brown eyes, spinning himself in his chair to keep them on her as y/n walked back to her desk, switching off her lamp and grabbing her purse. 

she looked at him over her computer, turning it off with the almost unheard click of a button. “you’re gonna stay with me tonight.” she answered him simply. 

he furrowed his brows. “why?” 

“because i don’t trust you to be alone tonight.” 

spencer swallowed thickly with how her eyes bore into his own. he could have, no, should have known that y/n would have caught onto his behavior. 

a case from weeks ago had taken a toll on him. seeing a kid shot in front of his eyes after he tried everything he could to convince jack, the father of lindsay who was kidnapped, not to shoot the teen holding her captive. the image scarred him; how the bullet exploded the boys head from the close range, how the blood splattered on the walls, and how he stood there in shock because he didn’t know what to do. 

“i’m okay.” he swore to her. 

she pursed her lips as she walked back to his desk. “don’t fight me on this,” her voice was low in a whisper. “i want to help you, spencer.” she reached down to place her hand on the back of his where it rested on the desk. 

spencer swallowed thickly once more before he sighed, looking away. “okay.” when her hand retracted away from his, he stood up and put his bag over his shoulder. 

y/n smiled at him and started walking with spencer on her heels out of the glass doors of the BAU office, into the elevator and to her car. 

9:07 pm

y/n smiled as she unlocked the door to her apartment and walked inside with her hand on the nob until spencer was all the way inside. 

he’d been in her apartment multiple times which meant there was no awkward moments as he took off his shoes and hung his bag on the rack beside the door. 

“are you hungry?” she asked him as she entered her small kitchen and he went to sit at the island. 

“i’m alright… just tired.” he told her with his elbows leaning on the counter. he blinked slowly. 

“okay.” she looked him over with sad eyes. “spencer?” he looked up at her at the utter of his name. “if there’s something wrong you can talk to me.” 

her statement had him nodding with his head lowered and his eyes closed. 

she was the one person he actually told about his addiction problem that had taken him over almost few months ago, and she’d helped him stop. but now he had the urge to use again, and that’s why she brought him home with her. that was why. 

y/n padded out from behind the kitchen island to spencer and her arms went around his middle. her chest was against his curved back from his posture from leaning over the counter a bit and she rested her cheek on his shoulder blade. he was warm through his clothes and his heartbeat was loud, but slow in y/n’s ear.

“thank you.” the words were whispered by spencer. 

“you’re welcome.” y/n whispered back to him. her thumb on one hand slowly trailed up and down where it was against the front of his waist, almost the middle of his abdomen. “i just want you to be safe.” 

“i know.” he breathed heavily due to how her touch was so kind and soft, unlike their job. 

a comfortable silence settled over y/n’s apartment as they stayed where they were at the kitchen island. spencer was in the verge of sleep from how at ease he was, and not a single image of the long past case was in his head, until she pulled away, then it all came rushing back to him. but he wasn’t going to tell her. there was a part of him that knew she knew. 

she always knew. 

“cmon, it’s late.” y/n ran a hand down his back as she stepped away from the proximity, straying to go towards her bedroom. 

spencer stared after her and decided to follow once she disappeared from his sight through the door separating her own space from the open concept of her apartment. 

her bedroom was homy. soft colors made up her bed, curtains and walls, while her dresser and nightstands were a darker shade. spencer liked it. 

“you remember where your clothes are right?” she called from where she stood in front of her bathroom mirror. 

“yeah.” spencer answered. his socked feet carried him to her dresser. the top right drawer was his. it had a set of pajamas and work clothes in it. 

it was almost like spencer and y/n were in a relationship. they had the details of one. with the clothes of the other at each of their houses, the secret looks they passed, some what harmless flirting. they were very close. so close that almost all of their coworkers were waiting for the day they finally got together; they’ve been waiting for three years. 

spencer quickly changed out of his work clothes and into pajamas before slipping into y/n’s bed. he was going to go sleep on her couch but that would only result in her dragging him back to her room. he laid in his left side, facing her empty space with eyes on her pillow u til she joined him, almost coming nose to nose with him. 

“i’m glad you didn’t go to the couch.” she told him. 

his mouth tugged up in the corners. “i decided against it. i knew you’d just drag me back here.” he said it through a yawn. 

“you know me too well.” she hummed. 

“i do.” 

silence. 

“thank you, again.” spencer muttered. 

y/n nodded against her pillow. “it’s my job to look out for people. you just happen to be the most important people i do that for.” 

spencer nodded slowly at her words, smiling softly again. he absentmindedly fidgeted with the top of her comforter, twisting and pulling at the seam between his fingers anxiously. he was at ease with her, but that feeling in his body kept flashing over him. the part of him that wanted to use dilaudid kept resurfacing. 

y/n frowned. “hey,” her hand snaked out from under the comforter to brush through his soft hair, “where’d you go?” she searched his eyes with her own for the previously smiling spencer. he must have gone away for now. 

spencer shrugged with a shaky inhale. “i don’t know…” he blinked his eyes closed, hard. it’s what he did when he wanted to keep himself from crying. he sniffled a little, still toying with the seam of the comforter. 

y/n’s heart ached for him. she’d seen a lot of things that made her feel many different ways, but seeing spencer like this made her want to cry. 

spencer opened his eyes and looked at her. they were glossed over, creating an almost pretty sheen over the amber-brown color. the tear that slipped from one of his eyes made her move the hand she had in his hair to wipe it away. “i almost started using again…” his voice was quivering. “i just don’t want to see that dead kid anymore.”

y/n moved closer to his body under the covers. her hand rested on the side of his face, thumb drawing a gentle line back and forth over his cheekbone. “i know you don’t, babe.” she whispered. “what can i do for you?” 

spencer shrugged immediately after your question registered with him. “i just need distractions.” 

she nodded subtly. her hands retracted from his face as she rolled over to grab a book off her nightstand. “can i read to you?” 

spencer was quick to nod prior to moving closer to her. his arms were acting as a pillow for his head as he remained laying on his side, only inches away from her as she opened her book. 

she started reading, which made spencer’s mind go blank as he listened. he liked how slow she was with the words, taking her time. sometimes she’d stutter, or ask him how to pronounce something. it was a nice change from how he read. 

y/n paused her reading to take a quick glance down at spencer, seeing how he had curled into himself and was now breathing steadily with a few soft snores mixed in. she smiled to herself and closed the book, putting it back on her nightstand and switched off the light.

[honeytrap26]

JJK men when you come home from a night out with your friends.

summary: How JJK men react when you come home from a night out with your friends. cw: !!MDNI!! blowjobs, eating out, just straight up horny woman who love their smexy boyfriends. aunote: Sorry I’ve been gone. Had a lot of stuff come up and I’m currently sick with an awful cold. Just a quick one while I work on the rest. I hope you guys enjoy and happy reading!! Let me know if you want one with the rest of them (aged up) etc.🐼🖤 wc:1k+

Satoru Gojo

Stays up all night to track your little icon on his phone to make sure you and your friends get home safely. He’s laying in bed naked, the covers are lazily draped over him, when he finally sees your icon outside of the house he lets out a giddy laugh and shuts off his phone and pretends to be asleep. Gojo hears you stumble through the door and mutter “Shit” as you bump into the wall. He can hear you slip off your heels and throw them on the ground, the sound of your purse hitting the floor as you make your way into the room. He tries to hide the smile on his face when he hears you sigh muttering “He’s already asleep.”

You strip off all of your clothes and crawl under the sheets next to Gojo. Your lustful eyes are observing Gojo’s face, your hand roams his body, your fingers trailing up and down his strong arm. You straddle his thighs slowly grinding on him while you kiss his chest, lightly licking his nipples. You can feel something begin to harden and rise underneath you, you lean down and give his neck light suck, your hand pushes back his messy hair revealing his half lidded blue eyes looking at you,

“B-baby, please…” he bites his lip letting out a strained moan.

“I knew you weren't sleeping.” you giggle, and pull him in for a passionate kiss. Gojo's big hands grab your ass, giving it a hard smack before he pulls away, he cracks a big smile and flips you over, the back of his hand caresses your face,

“Let's have some fun baby girl.” 

Suguru Geto

Is still up when you get home, he's still playing games with Gojo and the crew. He hears Gojo yelling “Darling! You’re home…gawd dayum… girl….. you’re fucked up. Oh. No. NO. Don’t throw up here! AHH!”

Geto laughs at Gojo’s feet shuffling through the other end. One teammate down.

“SATORU! You’re making us lose!!” Toji yells through his headset. “Oh hey ma, how u doin-Oh shit you’re fucked up too? No- Ow! Don’t smack me. I was yelling at Satoru. Blame him!” 

Two teammates down.

“Shit, come on boys!” Geto sighs, “Haibara you good?” Geto pauses for a moment. “Haibara?”

A ping for the chat box pops up.

"Press F to pay respects to Haibara." Gojo types.

Geto’s head slumps forward in defeat, three down.

“It’s just me now.” he takes a deep breath and focuses on the game. He feels your hands massage his tense shoulders from behind, you lean down and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Hey love, I see the other girls are fucked up… was that your doing?” he smirks, his eyes not leaving the screen.

“I would never do that, it was all Mei this time.” you say, nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck taking in the scent of his body wash and shampoo. You give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Uh-huh…Sounds like both you and Mei planned it seeing as Nanami isn’t saying anything.” Geto let’s out a “yes” under his breath as he gets a headshot kill and captures the flag they lost because of Gojo.

Geto feels your arms leaving his body, he gives your hand a quick kiss before you walk away.

You position yourself underneath his desk and tug at his sweats.

“Babe, what are you doing?” he quickly glances down at you.

“I wanna look at your tattoo. I didn’t get to look at it upclose.” he feels you pull his brief and sweats off.

“That’s not just my sweats-oh fuck…b-baby. Not so-mmmm.” he groans, feeling you lick and suck his balls. His cock jumps up at the sudden ministrations, your licks are sloppy, your teeth graze his cock. Making his body tense up. He leans back in his chair, his hand comes down to guide your head up and down his hard member. He thrusts his hips up into your mouth making you gag a bit.

“Good fucken girl.” he groans, he slips off his headphones.

“I’m back on. Suguru where ya at?” Gojo’s voice echoes through Geto’s headphones.

“Hey fuck face you’re makin us lose!!” Toji comes back in yelling.

“On the right, on the right! Suguru ON THE RIGHT!” Haibara says.

“Got him. Last one. Reloading.” Toji says.

“Shit babe, gonna cum.” Geto grabs your hair and pushes your head down, taking all of him in your mouth. He shoots his load into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat.

“Suguru. Suguru?! SUGURU!!” They all shout in unison as the words DEFEAT pop on the screen.

Nanami Kento

Is dead asleep, man is exhausted. He works long hours so give him a break. He feels bad for not going out with you but he knows you can take care of yourself. You're cackling loudly singing “I'm gonna get some dick tonight. Woop woop.” You stumble into the room and see him sleeping there so peacefully. You grab the blanket and yank it off of him. “Nanamin, Nanamin, Kento, Mr. Big dick Kento. I wanna fucckk.” you giggle and straddle his hips.

He groans, his body shivers from the cold air hitting him. “What are you doing?” he mumbles, still half asleep.

“I want you. I missed you so much, I didn’t get to see you before I left.” you pout, showering his face with kisses. “Sooo wake up..” you kiss his lips. He turns his face away, his big hands come up and hold your waist. He finally opens his eyes, adjusting to the hallway light illuminating the room.

“I’m up. I’m up.” he yawns. “How was your night, beautiful?” he moves your hair away from your face tucking it behind your ear.

“It was good, I’m a little drunk but I missed you more.” you give his hand a kiss and  lay on his chest. Nanami wraps his strong arms around you, he shifts his body so you're laying next to him. His hand gently caresses your hair.

“No Kento, I wanna fuck not cuddle.” you try to get away from him but he squeezes you tighter.

“Shhhh go to sleep. You're drunk” he holds you tighter.

“Nanamin…” you whine. Silence fills the room. His body twitches in response. You sigh and lay there admiring his features.

“He’s already asleep again.” 

Toji Fushiguro 

Is always down to fuck, especially since you decided to be a tease by bending over right in front of him while he was sitting on the ground waiting for Megumi to come back with his books. You tried to run out of the room but Toji grabbed your legs pushing you back onto his face. His nose digging deep into your clothed cunt. If Megumi didn’t come running back from your moans, he would’ve ripped those pantyhose right off and given you a little present before you left.

You open the door trying to be as quiet as possible to not wake them up. Whenever you’re gone Megumi and your husband slept together, but to your surprise Toji isn’t asleep, instead the lights are dimmed down low in the living room and he’s laying on the couch butt ass naked scrolling through netflix trying to find something to watch.

“You’re finally home.” He says nonchalantly, not looking away from the screen.

You pause for a moment to check the time on your phone.

“Toji it's 3am why are you not asleep?” You take off your shoes and hang up your coat.

“You're horny when you're drunk. Just thought I'd make it easier for you.” He smirks, and tilts his head up at you.

“I was DD tonight so I’m not drunk and I have vomit all over me.” You sigh and sit next to him on the couch. He sits up and grabs your legs so they’re resting on his thighs, he begins to massage your feet, moving up your legs. You let out soft moans and sighs of relief.

“Feels good? Seems like a long night.” he says as he leans down to kiss your legs.

“Yeah it was kinda a long night, remember I told you that my friend found her boyfriend sleeping with another girl?” 

Toji nods in response.

“Well she was already drunk by the time I got there and it was a mess, we ran into her boyfriend and his new chick there.” you close your eyes and lean back against the couch. You feel Toji move from the couch to the ground, your legs are on his shoulders now.

“How about I help make you feel better?” he says as he spreads your legs open.

“Toji, I smell like puke.” you chuckle and push his head away.

“Not down here baby girl, you smell sweet just like you did earlier today, don’t tell me you don’t remember what you did. Teasing me like that.” He smirks and pulls your legs closer to his mouth. His hands squeeze your ass and rip your pantyhose apart.

“Toji, that was a nice one!.” you playfully slap his hand.

“Sorry babe, you're irresistible to me.”

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (1)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell (on the way!)

This is part of a series of unrelated works entitled "Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually" and I think that title is fairly self-explanatory. If there are any other couples you think would be good parents for our Stevie boy, let me know and I'll take them into consideration!

Anyway, the B-Side thing is because this is like taking my Addams Family Steddie au and just flipping the cassette tape hfjsdk

This time, it's Steve that's the Addams and Eddie that's normal!

Anyway, blame @whatthemeepever for this one specifically cuz it's gonna spiral into a wild ride actually, so let's all pray for Eddie in advance

If you'd like a tag for any future parts, let me know!

And, as always, if you see any typos, no you didn't

-------

The moment Steve is born, his father sticks a light bulb in his mouth. When it glows, he jumps with joy and throws Steve into the air. The moment Steve's mother realizes what's happening, she slaps his father upside the head, throws the light bulb at him, and threatens to blow him up again if he sticks anymore into Steve's mouth before he starts teething.

She follows through on the promise exactly two weeks later, and Steve's parents (one smug and the other notably singed but delighted) rebuild their house next door to his father's brother.

Steve's mother chooses his first and last name (Harrington, a reference to some long-lost family friend or other), and his father is reluctantly given the freedom to choose his middle name. In the end, he is dubbed Steve Faustus Harrington, a name his mother is so surprised to find acceptable that she kisses his father as a reward.

And so begins Steve's life.

------

"I can't believe you got expelled," Steve's mother seethes, gripping the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turn white. "Again!"

Steve crosses his arms, sinking lower in his seat as he glares out the window. "It's not my fault they were shitty friends. They got what they deserved."

He hears his mother laugh, the sound strained and indignant and very quickly followed by his father turning to look at Steve from the passenger seat. His sunken eyes are filled with suppressed delight as he asks, "What did they do this time?"

A few seconds pass before Steve sighs. "They said they couldn't go out later because they had to study for finals. I mean, what kind of bullshit is that? Finals are three weeks away, and they can't spare one weekend for the funeral museum?" he says, scoffing as he looks at his father, grins, and adds, "So, I brought the funeral museum to them, coffins and cremations and all."

His father's eyes light up, sheer joy and pride dancing in them. And for the very first time in Steve's life, his mother pulls over to the side of the road and parks the car.

"Pumpkin?" his father asks.

"Fester," she says, her voice low and somewhere in the range of upset, "do you remember when I tried to kill your entire family?"

"Of course. It was a splendid attempt."

She nods and looks at him with a tiny, somewhat pained smile. Then she turns and sets her gaze on Steve. "Darling, what kind of grades do your friends have?" she asks. "Because if you're anything like me, and I know you are, you tend to befriend people who are significantly dumber than you."

Steve blinks, thinking for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, most of them were about to fail," he admits.

"Then, isn't it possible they really were studying for finals? Especially if they were close to failing at a school where passing is a requirement of attendance? Perhaps you could have suggested going to the...funeral museum after finals?"

A few seconds pass as Steve considers her words, a crushing sense of realization and guilt dropping on his shoulders and traveling to the pit of his stomach. It makes him feel nauseous, and he stares down at his lap. "I fucked up," he finally says, voice quiet and apologetic.

"Of course not!" Fester says, reaching out and ruffling Steve's hair despite the affronted noise from Debbie, "Your plan was beautifully conceived and masterfully executed. Perhaps you should just talk a little more before pulling out the urns next time."

"Incredibly, your father is right," Debbie says, looking pleasantly surprised before turning her gaze to Steve. She sighs and holds out a hand, squeezing Steve's when he takes it. "Don't get so blinded by a beautiful pair of shoes that you completely miss the sale two aisles over, Steve. At the very least, do a little more research before resorting to torture and murder. Personally, I'm very tired of calling the family's lawyer."

Steve snorts at the utter lie. Debbie loves calling the family's lawyer. She does so regularly just to double-check the state of Fester's stocks and bonds and deeds and general worth. "Okay," he says, nodding once, "I'll remember for the next school."

"You know," Fester says, looking at Debbie hopefully, "Pubert is a senior this year. Maybe Steve could go to high school with him."

Debbie hesitates, frowning slightly before saying, "Yes, but it's...public school."

"The best Gomez and Morticia could find! It was highly recommended by Margaret, and Pubert can make sure Steve adjusts and makes friends."

Steve can see the moment his mother agrees. She sighs, lets go of his hand, and fixes her already perfect bob. "Well, I suppose," she says before looking at Steve once more. "And you, Steve? Would you like to try...public school for your junior year?"

"Sure, might be fun," Steve says, thinking about all the movies he's seen that display public high schools as a zoo and the worst place on Earth. It sounds great, and if the place is still standing while Pubert attends, it must be somewhat entertaining.

------

"You've got everything you'll need?"

Steve looks up from lacing his shoes and smiles at his mother, earning a nervous grin in return. Her blonde hair is uncharacteristically frazzled, and Steve feels warm and fuzzy (like a mold growing over his heart) at knowing she's so worried as to appear less-than-perfect in front of him.

"Yes, I've got everything," he says, gesturing to the backpack on the stairs next to him. In addition to notebooks and his pencil case, Steve has also packed a travel mace, a miniature bomb (alarm clock detonator stored separately, of course), a tiny bottle of tequila, and his lucky lightbulb (just in case).

His mother nods once, takes a deep breath, and then turns her head toward the kitchen to shout, "FESTER!"

Something crashes, a cat (they don't have a cat) yowls, and Steve's father slides into the doorway. "Yes, Pumpkin?" he asks, eyes bright and happy and utterly stuck on Debbie.

"Is Steve's lunch ready? You made something normal, right?" she asks, one eyebrow raised.

Fester glances at Steve, a brief look shared between them that's both sympathetic and endeared toward Debbie. "Of course," Fester says, disappearing for two seconds before striding over to the stairs with a pink lunch box decorated with black skulls (Steve chose the color, Fester chose the pattern, and Debbie gave them her stamp of approval). "A turkey sandwich, fruit, cookies, and juice."

"Fruit?" Debbie asks, her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Apple slices!"

After a few seconds, Debbie nods, and Fester gives the lunch box to Steve, shifting some so Debbie doesn't see the conspiratorial wink that tells him the juice is definitely poisoned. Steve grins and shoves the lunch box into his bag. He finishes lacing his shoes and stands, holding his arms out so his mother can inspect him.

"You've done a wonderful job pairing your shirt and shoes," Debbie says, walking around Steve with an air of pride and approval. She rubs the sleeve of his pastel yellow sweater between her thumb and forefinger, nodding once. "The plum pants are a bold choice, but it pays off. And, as always, your hair is flawless, dear."

Steve grins, letting his arms fall to his side. "I tried that new mousse you gave me," he says, fingers twitching as he fights the urge to run them through his hair. "It works great."

His mother smiles even wider and kisses his cheek, pulling out a handkerchief and carefully wiping away the lipstick residue she leaves behind. "I knew it would," she says, inspecting Steve's face once more before nodding with approval.

"Pumpkin, it's time for Steve to go. Pubert is waiting."

Debbie huffs softly and gives Steve one last once over before nodding and hurrying him toward the door. "Have a good day at school, try not to blow anything up, and call me if Pubert tries to cut off your head with a rusty knife again," she says.

"What if it's a clean knife?"

"Well, that's fine. Grandmama will just sew it back on."

Steve grins and waves to both of his parents before hurrying toward the sidewalk where Pubert is waiting. His hair is parted down the middle and gelled down, his pencil-thin mustache is immaculate as ever, and he's wearing a three-piece suit. When Steve is closer, he pulls out two cigars and offers one.

"This isn't an exploding cigar again, right? I'm wearing a new shirt," Steve says, taking it and looking it over.

"Nah, that joke only works once," Pubert says, dragging a match against his palm to light it. He holds it to his cigar first, puffs a few times, and then does the same for Steve. "How long till you get expelled again, you think?"

Steve shrugs as he takes a puff from the cigar, letting the smoke linger for a moment before skillfully blowing it out in perfect circles as they walk. "I haven't been to a public school before," he says, tapping the cigar over the sidewalk, "so, hopefully, at least a year."

"Public school is fun," Pubert says, getting a wicked grin as he looks at Steve. "You can get away with a lot."

"And the other kids?"

"Well, they've certainly got a lot to learn. I mean, most of them can't even handle a little cyanide."

Steve scrunches his nose and takes another puff of his cigar. After a few seconds he asks, "Will we have any classes together?"

"You're a year below me, so maybe an elective or two. What did you sign up for?"

"I signed up for, uh, shop class, forensic science, and Gothic literature."

"We'll have Gothic lit together," Pubert says, flashing a smile before asking, "And you know what shop class is, right?"

Steve blinks, suddenly a little hesitant. "Is it not, like, something about shopping?"

"No. It's building things. With wood, usually."

"Oh! So, I can build anything?"

"I guess. I haven't taken it."

"Well, I'll find out. Maybe I can build Dad a catapult or guillotine or something."

As they get closer to the school, more students fill the sidewalks, but Steve notices that most of them seem to give him and Pubert a wide berth. They also stare, looking at Steve like he's some kind of puzzle to be solved, with more than a few flashing sympathetic smiles like he's trapped and can't get away. "You're popular," Steve notes, taking one last puff of his cigar before dropping it into a trash can.

"I would fucking hope so," Pubert says, finishing off his cigar and tossing it into the next trash can they pass. "I didn't flood the place with roaches and vermin to not be known."

Steve grins, listening as Pubert regales him with the tale only to cut it short when they get inside the school and pass the front office. "I need to get my schedule, but Mom said she made sure we'd have lunch together," Steve says.

Pubert waves him off. "Yeah, I'll meet you in the cafeteria. Have fun, cousin," he replies, mockingly saluting him before heading off down the main hall.

-----

Steve's first class of the day was AP Calculus, followed by AP Physics, Wood Shop, and AP U.S. History. When it's finally time for lunch, he surveys the cafeteria for a few seconds before finding a table in a dark corner that everyone seems to avoid. By the time he gets there, Pubert has sat down with a tray from the lunch line.

Steve sets his backpack on the table, sits down, and says, "For a place that's so lifeless, it's not even fun."

"Yeah, it's like that," Pubert agrees, poking some unidentifiable mush on his tray with a spork before spooning some into his mouth.

It's with a somewhat jealous expression that Steve pulls out his lunch box and removes a thermos of poisoned juice. "Is it bad?" he asks, nodding to the tray.

"Utterly repulsive."

Steve sighs and takes a sip from the thermos before pulling out everything else in his lunch box. "They made me wear safety goggles in shop. Safety goggles! It's like they don't know how fun splinters in the eyes are. And everyone is soooo scared of the saws, it's ridiculous," he complains, taking an angry bite of his sandwich.

"What about your other classes?"

"Physics would be better with more practical examples. I mean, who cares about apples when we could learn if a body falls faster than a cannonball?"

"From experience, no," Pubert says, "Anyway, you gonna join any clubs?"

"Maybe the swim team? If I'm lucky, I'll drown," Steve says, perking up a little at the thought.

"Best of luck with that," Pubert replies, stealing Steve's thermos to take a sip of his juice. When he places it back, he offers Steve a sporkful of the mush.

Steve lights up and happily tries it, wondering how something can be so perfectly undercooked and overcooked at the same time. "Impressive," he says, passing the spork back. "Is that freezer burn?"

Before Pubert can answer, a bang from the other side of the cafeteria cuts off all other sounds. Steve glances over to see a boy in heavy combat boots climbing onto his table with a mischievous grin. He's wearing a shirt with a devil head on it and "Hellfire Club" emblazoned above and a vest with spikes, pins, and patches. His hair is just below his shoulders and a little curly, and Steve can see from here the wild glint in his eyes as he stomps down the table while talking.

"I'm tired of the double standards of this lame school. If you're into science or band or some other 'uncool' interest, the administration couldn't give two shits! Oh, the choir room needs new risers so the current ones don't break any necks? Well, that's too bad, we've got to give the football team new monogrammed towels for the locker room!" the guy says, grinning when a group of kids to the side shouts their agreement. "And never mind that our Robotics team has won the school three trophies when the basketball team so valiantly scraped into third place last year for being kinda good at throwing balls into laundry baskets."

"Prick!"

Steve glances at the guy who shouted, taking in his letterman jacket before quickly dismissing him. He looks back in time to see the boy on the table sticking out his tongue and holding his hands to his temples to make horns. There's an even wilder look in his eyes now, a sheer glee at causing a scene and getting under someone's skin.

Steve doesn't realize he's smiling until the boy scoffs, shouts one more line about the school's unfair preference for "mediocre jocks," and hops off the table. He looks over at Pubert and asks, "Who was that?"

Pubert glances at Steve, studying him for a moment before swallowing another mouthful of mush and saying, "Eddie Munson. He does that once a week, usually."

"Eddie Munson," Steve murmurs, glancing over at Eddie's table again and smiling a little wider.

[poinsexter]

7 Minutes in Heaven {obx - jm}

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem Pogue!Reader (kinda some John B x reader if you squint)

Summary: pogue!reader gets selected for a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven with JJ—this should be no big deal, right?

Warnings: drinking, smoking, swearing, suggestive flirting, idk? Mild angst. Mostly fluff

Word count: 2,671

A/N: hiii this is my first time ever posting my own lil fanfic to tumblr. I’m sorry if there are any errors:(( I usually write original fiction but this was in my head and I couldn’t get it out. I hope someone gets some enjoyment from it <3 there is a John B alt ending written but idk if I’ll post. Let me know what you beauties thinnnnk:)

When a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ didn’t sound juicy enough to the sexed up tourons, a blue-shirt wearing frat bro suggested everyone partake in a game of 7 Minutes In Heaven.  The pogues were never one to back down from a challenge—least of all you, who’d kissed all of your friends at some point or another.

You took a sip of beer from the paper cup in your hand, but not even drowning yourself in drinks could save you as John B and a touron girl exited the closet, heralding your turn next. He wore a lazy, drunken smile, dancing to the beachy music thumping from a nearby amp. 

“Tourons pick the lamest party games.” You hid your bundle of stress underneath a coy joke. “We could be playing flip cup instead.”

“You were laughing when it was Sarah and me.” Kie filed into the room next with a fresh beer in hand, brushing your cheek with the other hand as she passed. “Not so smug now, babes, huh?”

She plopped down on the arm of the chair Pope sat on with his feet kicked up, rolling a backwood.

“Of course it’s funny when it’s not me. That’s how it works,” you said. 

John B’s laugh rang out as he orbited around your back, to your side, appearing in your peripheral. You turned slightly, cup pressed against your bottom lip.

“How about you finish off that liquid courage,” John B used his index finger to tip the bottom of the cup up to goad you into chugging. You tried not to laugh into the drink as you complied, drinking the remainder of its contents. “Atta girl. Now lighten up, buzz kill, ‘cause it’s your turn.” 

You tossed the now-empty cup at his head with a laugh, watching as he swatted it away. “Like you need an excuse to makeout with someone in a closet.” 

“Seven minutes of swapping bacteria.” Pope chimed in from his spot on the recliner as he sparked the lighter. “In the best way possible.”

Kie crossed her arms. “You don’t have to kiss anyone.”

JJ burst around the corner into the room, beer spilling from the bottle in his hand as he caught the last half of the conversation. “Hey, don’t say that! We all have to follow the rules.”

“What rules, JJ?” You rolled your eyes. “The ones you pull out of your ass?” 

“Yeah, I can jot them down for you.” He feigned looking around the room, touching his chest for imaginary pencil pockets as the bottle sloshed in his hand. “Anyone got a pen? Maybe a marker? Crayon, perhaps?”

“Alright, alright, I get it!” You conceded with another laugh. “Pour me up a shot and let me make someone’s day!”

Kie hopped off the couch with a grin and began lining up shot glasses on the counter. JJ’s hand cradled the small of your back while John B approached your other side, watching as JJ poured a messy line of contents from the tap across all of the shot glasses. 

Every pogue picked one up, preparing to throw them back, when John B took the one from your hand and raised a mischievous brow. “Open up, little loverrr.”

You gave a wide grin before obeying the command, opening up your mouth and sticking out your tongue to prepare for the waterfall of liquor. 

John B tossed back his own shot in one fluid motion before pouring the second shot into your mouth. Once the contents were fully polished off you squeezed your eyes shut as an involuntary shiver ran through you, the warmth working  its way down your throat and through your chest. 

“You missed some.” John B grabbed your cheeks and yanked you closer, playfully slurping the backsplash from the skin around the corner of your mouth and cheek. 

“HEYYY NOW!” JJ gave an energetic clap of his hands before pointing at you and John B. “Save it for the closet!” 

You shoved John B away from you with laughter almost as if he were an over-zealous puppy before leaning over to smack JJ’s arm. “Oh please, I know you have your fingers crossed hoping it’s me and you.”

You didn’t interpret the playful action as John B making a move on you despite JJ’s joke. You were all particularly affectionate with each other—and for as affectionate as you were, you also gave each other just as much shit. 

“Alright, it’s TIME!” said Kie, grabbing you by the shoulders and steering you in Pope’s direction.  “Pull the name.”

Pope remained on the couch, but now had a ball cap flipped upside down in his hand with jumbled up scraps of paper inside. He grumbled. “I don’t know how I ended up relegated to this role.”

“Because you’re the most trustworthy,” said Kie. “And the least likely to fuck it up.”

“Can’t argue there.” Pope pulled a piece of paper from the cap. “You will be joined by…” he unfurled the paper. “JJ!”

As JJ looked over at you with that arrogant flirty ease, you couldn’t place why you suddenly felt a spike of nerves. Your feet almost felt as if they had forgotten how to work, with Sarah swooping in to usher you toward the closet, JJ not far behind.

Seven minutes in a closet should be nothing compared to all the drunken nights you’d cuddled up on the chateau’s pullout couch together. The party was in full swing, the perfect time to cut loose, and still, you couldn’t fight the soft apprehension prickling at your palms. 

The closet in question was unlike anything you’d grown up with, but that was to be expected anytime you partied at a kook house. It was more akin to a closet like Sarah’s, though it wasn’t overflowing with near as much color or fun crop tops as hers.

You looked around at the designer labels and scrunched your nose. “God, why do kooks need such big closets?”

“Yeah, I’m not digging all the space between us.” Without warning, JJ slipped an index finger into the belt loop of your jeans and pulled you closer until you were only inches apart. “Much better, thanks for the cooperation, princess.”

“You’re getting way too much enjoyment out of this, it’s worrying.”

“Afraid I’ll bite?” He clacked his teeth in your face playfully, smirking when he couldn’t make you flinch. 

“Biting doesn’t scare me.” You couldn’t help yourself as you pressed in closer to his face, daring him to retaliate. “You’ll have to try harder, Jay.”

He dropped his hold on the belt loop and pressed his hands into you stomach, shoving you against the wall until you back was flush with the surface, caught between the cold of the wall and the warmth of his body. 

“How about now, cupcake? Scared?” He paused and lifted a brow, smirk sweeping up his mouth. He leaned closer. “That toe-curling thing you’re feeling is called sexual tension, my friend.”

Said tension between you was palpable, even after he slacked to give you the space back, satisfied with the effect he’d visibly had on you. Words died in your throat. For the first time ever, you were speechless. JJ, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, content to chatter away.

“We had our first kiss in a closet just like this one.” JJ looked delighted by the memory. "You remember?”

”Don’t call it ‘our first kiss’ like we were ever a thing.” Your composure faltered, but it was a fond memory nonetheless. “Shame on me for choosing ‘dare’ over ‘truth’—I thought I’d get to do something cool like scale a flag pole, but no. Got stuck sucking face with you.” 

"Okay, ouch,” he feigned offense, clutching his chest. “I've gotten a lot better at kissing since then.” 

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the heat that was creeping up your neck. "Well, we were like thirteen, so I’d really hope so."

JJ leaned in a little closer again. "I've been thinking about that kiss a lot lately, you know.”

Your walls went up, afraid of being vulnerable. He’d played with your feelings one too many times over the years out of boredom. You used to think when he was flirting he meant it, and that had led to too much confusion. Rather than pine over him forever, you’d grown comfortable with your role of best friend.

Anything more—girlfriend, fuck buddy, situationship—would spell nothing but trouble.

You deflected by teasing him. “You’ve been thinking about a bad kiss from middle school? Find better hobbies.”

“That’s the thing—I need to redeem myself,” he said. “You never wonder what it would be like to try it again now that we’re older? More… seasoned?”

“Don’t be dumb.” Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried not to let it show. "This is just a fun party game, not an opportunity for you to get lucky.”

“What does that cute little tattoo on your ass say again?” He snapped his fingers and feigned as if recalling. “Lucky you.” 

You made a sputtering noise, floored by the comeback. You’d been in a bikini around the pogues enough times that they’d likely all seen the edge of said tattoo, but he would have had to pay attention to read it. 

“God, you are such a shameless flirt!” You picked up a sandal from the closet floor and began smacking him with it. “What is with you tonight? You’re gonna start humping the keg stand before the party is over—“

“I wouldn’t be the man you know and love unless I flirted without remorse.” JJ flinched away from the sandal, laughing at your reaction. "Come on, you have to admit there's chemistry between us."

You felt a jolt of electricity shoot through your body at his words. He was right, but you didn't know what to do about it—so again, you deflected. “You have chemistry with anything that has tits and legs.” 

“Nah, it’s different with us,” he insisted. “And I’ll prove it.”

Before you could respond, JJ took a daring step forward, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips met yours in a searing kiss. It was gentle initially, testing the waters to see what you were okay with. As the kiss lingered, JJ took it as a sign to deepen things, the pace growing hungrier between you.  

Your initial surprise gave way to something more passionate and explorative. Warmth pooled in your thighs as he tangled him hands in your hair, tongue making sensuous circles with your own. It was a moment suspended in time as your friendship burned away, scorching the earth until it became something uncharted. He awoke dormant feelings in you—emotions for him that you thought you’d long buried came rising to the surface at full force like a geyser.

“Seven minutes is up!” John B’s voice rang out.

You barely had time to fall apart from each other as the door pried open. A gasp tore through your mouth, accompanied by a jolt of surprise. For a brief moment it had only been you and JJ - the party on the other side of the door had completely disappeared to you. 

John B leaned against the doorframe, gazing down at the wild blush staining your cheeks. Something like understanding registered in his gaze at the look on your face, but he quickly recovered the cool-guy charm. 

“Either you crazy kids come out, or I’m gonna get serious FOMO and have to join.”

“Squeeze in, man, you’ll love it.” JJ leaned his head against your shoulder and smiled, looking completely unaffected by what had happened. “Plenty of room. Too much, honestly.”

You rolled your eyes, not understanding how he could be so jovial and collected as your heart threatened to pump out of your chest.

“No threesomes in this living room, alright, this ain’t a Hugh Hefner party.” said Pope. “Come smoke this blunt and stop being weird.”

As you exited the confines of the closet, which had felt like it’s own world, you couldn't help but wonder what might have happened if you had been in the closet for even a minute longer. Would hands have roamed further? Would JJ have had time to confess he was just fucking around with you, only he took it a bit farther than usual? You didn’t even know what you’d want him to say. 

There wasn’t enough time to process what was happening or the repercussions of it—only that in the moment it had felt really, really good being with JJ. Whatever the absolute fuck that was about. 

The unspoken tension had found its voice in that kiss, marking the beginning of the end. You didn’t know how you could look him in the eyes again after feeling his hands knotting through your hair. How could a moment change everything? 

You avoided JJ for the next several hours, wrapping your mind around what had happened. If the other pogues noticed, they didn’t call you out on it. Not openly, anyway. Kie and John B were not subtle as they gossiped in hushed whispers, glancing between you and JJ at your two different places across the party. 

Eventually, the drinks caught up to you. Coping with your alien feelings by attempting to numb them with alcohol hadn’t worked, of course, so now not only were you mentally spiraling but had also come down with a bad case of the spins.

To anchor yourself back to the moment, you slipped away from the party, which was just now starting to teeter off from its full swing, and exited out of the back door of the mansion onto a vacant area of porch.

Salty sea and crisp nighttime air instantly offered reprieve to your racing mind as you walked over to the wooden railing of the porch and leaned against it, reveling in the quiet. 

A few minutes later, your quiet was disturbed by the sound of the sliding glass door opening up behind you. You turned to look at who’d followed, heart nearly leaping from your chest at the sight of JJ.  

“Hey, you okay out here?” He stuck his head out of the door, quiet concern on his face. You nodded without verbal response. “Is it cool if we talk for a minute?”

You nodded again, feeling a nervous knot forming in your stomach. You didn’t want to imagine what he would say next. Still, you were both here now, and there was no use in prolonging the inevitable. “What's up?”

He closed the door behind himself. Here it comes, you thought. He’s going to confess that he was just teasing you—it meant nothing to him. All one big, meaningless flirt brought on by his name being pulled from a random lottery. If it’d been John B’s name called over JJ’s, JJ may have never looked at you twice otherwise. Not any differently than usual, anyway. Why did that possibility hurt so much? 

“About the game…” He approached your side at the porch railing, looking less sure of himself than normal. “I know you’ve been avoiding me.” 

Your reply was short. “Astute observation.”

“Don’t do that—don’t shut down.” His eyes cut right through you. “Look, I - I have something to admit.”

You steeled yourself for him to say something that would break you, but you wouldn’t show it. “Don’t leave me in suspense, Jay.”

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line by kissing you before…” There was a pause too long in the air as he contemplated whether or not to say the next words.  “I bribed Pope to make sure he called my name for your turn.”

“You… what?”

“Don’t be mad.” He squeezed his eyes shut as if an admission of guilt physically pained him. After all, his motto had always been ‘deny, deny, deny.’ “It may or may not have been John B’s name on the paper that Pope actually pulled, but I’d slid him a $20 beforehand to make sure no one else got you.” 

The uneasiness in your stomach slowly transformed into butterflies, tickling all the way up your throat until it evolved into belly-aching laughter. He wasn’t toying with you because he was bored or because it was convenient. He orchestrated this. 

The laughter confused him. “Is that – wait – why are you laughing?”

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me again.”

His features brightened, eyes glowing with a new, consuming adoration. He swept you in closer and brought his mouth down to yours, talking against your lips. “God, I’m so glad you said that. Playing it cool has been driving me crazy.”

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-five | when I say ‘hell’, you say ‘nah’

Being tied up and gagged sitting beside a barbecue spitting hot oil at you, was not on the agenda.

And yet you sighed, tied up to a barbecue. Across the porch, Nico sat the same way, bound to the railing. To your left, Grover mirrored him, tied up in the sun. He was sweating, and looked incredibly tired. You wished you could do something about the situation you got caught in, but the truth was, you couldn’t do a thing. Percy got you here, and only Percy could get you out.

“Lovely day!” Geryon flipped sausages. A bit of piping-hot oil landed on your cheek. You flinched, but he didn’t pay you any notice. “Lovely day…Eurytion, get those banners higher!”

Streamers and party balloons were tied up and taped to the windows by Eurytion, who you deducted to be a spineless man. He’d tied you all up at Geryon’s instructions and relaxed on the bench under the window, in the shade.

You tried desperately to think of a way you could contact anyone. Chiron, perhaps, who could advise you on what to do now that Percy had gotten you tied up and held hostage. Maybe even Sally Jackson, since she always knew what you could do. Her advice hadn’t failed you yet. But there were no water sources or reflective surfaces to make a rainbow, and you could reach your bag chucked out of the way down on the grass, anyway. Eurytion had been kind enough to put your dagger in your bag, rather than throwing it away. That was something.

Eurytion and Geryon ate barbecue food, put more on the grill, and ate that, too, until the sun had set relatively low. The whole time, you tried not to hyperventilate at the thought of Percy being eaten by monster horses. You tried not to think of the high possibility you’d be sold off like a piece in a thrift store. You tried not to, but your mind ran wild. Grover communicated with his eyes, probably as tired as you were after your struggle to get out of the ties. You hadn’t any idea what he was communicating, though—the sun beamed in your eyes.

You were beginning to think he wasn’t coming back at all, a hopeless sort of sadness setting in, when a desperate, boys voice rang out above the barbecue and Geryon’s terrible singing.

“Let them go!” Percy’s voice raged. He ran up the porch steps and rounded. He locked eyes with you, and then Grover and Nico. “I cleaned the stables. So let them go.” Relief lifted the weight off your shoulders, that Percy was still breathing.

Geryon lifted off his cooking apron and dumped it over the porch rail. “Did you, now? How’d you manage it, sonny?”

Breathing deeply, Percy explained. “The water from the river. I…controlled it. Cleared the stables out completely.”

Geryon nodded appreciatively. “Well, then, Mr. Genius, smart move. You could have at least poisoned the naiad that resides in there, but hey-ho.” The staticky radio on the bench next to Eurytion played an Elvis Presley song, cutting out here and there. Polk Salad Annie felt a little bit too upbeat for the unpredictable crowd.

“Let my friends go,” Percy seethed, not appreciating the insinuation that he hadn’t done enough. “We had a deal.”

Geryon chuckled. “See, the problem is, and I’ve been thinking about this very deeply; if I let your friends go, I won’t get paid. They’re staying.”

Your eyes widened so much you might have looked comical. Percy turned gray. “You. Promised.”

“Ah, but you didn’t have me swear on the River Styx, did you? Therefore, it was not binding. Always remember, Percy, when you’re conducting any business, you should always swear on the River Styx. A binding oath is worth everything, alrighty?”

A beat of silence hit as Percy drew his sword. Riptide reflected the gold of the sun, strong at your friend’s side. Orthus, standing at Grover’s head, growled deeply.

Geryon waved Percy off like he was a knat. “Eurytion, he’s annoying me. Kill him.”

Grover and yourself protested as much as you could with your mouth’s somewhat bound too. Geryon looked away and slung a packet of bacon on the grill. At the same time, Percy inched closer to you, angling Riptide to the ties on your ankles. Orthus pounced and snapped at him, forcing Percy to move away. Saliva dripped from the dog’s mouths in a disgusting puddle near your feet. You couldn’t help feeling a little angry at him. For the first time, Percy had truly put your life at risk, and his way out of it failed to be effective.

“Kill him yourself,” said Eurytion, crossing his arms loosely.

Raising his dark brows, Geryon uttered a calm, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! You keep sending me to do your dirty work. You pick fights for no proper reason, and I’m tired of dying for you. You want the kid dead; kill him yourself.”

Tensely, the scene reminded you of a movie, like a cowboy facing down his enemy. You wanted to laugh, but honestly you felt a little too heat-exhausted and scared.

Geryon threw down the metal tongs. “How dare you defy me? I should be rid of you this instant!”

“And who’d look after your cattle then? Orthus, heel.” The dog left you, settling at Eurytion’s side.

“Whatever! I’ll deal with you later, after the boy’s gone.”

Then the scene

went

wild.

Geryon picked up two carving knives and threw them with such fury in Percy’s direction that they went haywire; he raised Riptide and deflected one away, over the rail, the other landed between Eurytion’s feet. Orthus barked aggressively, and Elvis Presley went crazy on the radio. Though obviously tired, and looking sweaty and pale (and in need of a shower after the stench of the stables), Percy went on the offence, raising Riptide and aiming right for Geryon’s head. He ducked and moved aside, causing the sword to go right through his middle chest. You looked away, praying to your mother you didn’t gag, because the way you were feeling in the sun, it would not be good. Geryon yelled in pain and thudded to the deck. You anticipated the familiar sound of crumbling to ashes and dust the way monsters usually do, but it didn’t happen.

“Nice try,” he growled. “Thing is, I obviously have three hearts. It’s the perfect backup!” You looked back just in time to witness him kick over the barbecue that had been boiling all day long. The metal grates fell away, as smoking coals spilled out. Being so close to it, one caught your cheek as it dropped, others burning around your feet. You screamed, and couldn’t stop it. Grover yanked uselessly at his bindings, while Orthus approached him in a low crawl. Elvis didn’t give a shit that you found yourself in a stressful situation. Eurytion stepped back down the porch steps. Nico looked visibly terrified. After all, he was only a kid.

Percy struck Geryon in the chest again, but he only laughed in his face. The dark-haired boy ran the sword through his stomach but it did absolutely nothing. Percy persevered, usually, so watching him take off inside the house was a kick to the stomach. He couldn’t leave you here, surely? Your cheek itched painfully from the burn of the coal and the oil and the sun, you were tired and hot and stressed. Sooner rather than later, you might explode.

Geryon launched the large barbecue fork through the open doorway, and it landed in something with a terrible clunk. “Your head’s gonna go there, Jackson, next to the bear!”

In the doorway, Percy appeared carrying a large bow and notched an arrow, shocking since he couldn’t so much as hit a target a metre away at camp. Geryon berated him verbally with cruel remarks and laughter, but Percy was not to be deterred. The monster didn’t need weapons to charge toward Percy, who dove sideways. Before he could react, Percy let the arrow fly. It shot straight through Geryon’s arm in a bloody mess, and right through his bodies to the other side, landing in the wall inside the house. The ranch grew still and quiet, Geryon turning. “You can’t shoot,” he struggled to talk. “They told me you can’t.” In a sickly shade of violent green, he fell to his knees heavily and promptly turned to ashes, grains as small as sand. Silently, all that remained was a pair of jeans, a huge shirt and boots.

Percy turned, dropping the bow to the deck, clattering. In his pocket Riptide had returned. He cut your mouth free first, careful of the stinging cheek, knowing somehow that freedom of speech was what you wanted now.

You coughed to clear your throat, and brilliant-gray met sea-green. “Glad you’re still breathing, Percy Jackson.”

He swallowed, cutting through the binding at your ankles. “Glad you’re still here, B.”

You collected your backpack and dug straight for a bottle of water, sipping slowly as Grover and Nico were released. Casting the bottle away into your bag, you stood to build up the barbecue again, and offered the last packs of burgers to the gods as a thanks for helping Percy actually get a good shot…and not somehow shooting you, instead (which he had nearly done, once before).

Nico said Eurytion should be tied up, and Grover agreed on the grounds that his dog had tried to kill you all. Murder wasn’t in your books, and you didn’t want to become a subject of interest, but the old man had done nothing while you cooked under the sun and was going to allow you to be handed over to Luke. So…something had to be done.

“Why don’t we just…” you thought, “I don’t know, actually. Could just tie him and make a run for it before he breaks free?”

“Or we could contact Chiron?” Suggested Grover. “Maybe he could do something about this?”

You waved him off. “Chiron would be too nice.”

Percy raised his brows. “And just tying some up is isn’t being too nice?”

“Alright! I’m just saying, murder is a bit far. He isn’t completely guilty. He didn’t really do anything to us.”

“Didn’t do anything for us, either,” retorted your friend. Percy flicked his hair from his face, sweaty and sun-kissed.

Nico gasped with an idea. “We could kill him, and then I’ll go and judge him in the Underworld.”

You clicked your fingers, pointing at Nico. “Ha ha, that’s not what we’re gonna do.”

“Look,” breathed Percy, pocketing Riptide-now-pen. He held out a hand to Eurytion as he spoke. “How long will Geryon take to reform and come back?”

“Couple hundred years,” the farmhand shrugged. “He ain’t one of those quick reformers.”

“Oh, thank you Zeus,” you mumbled. The sky rumbled, perfectly clear.

“You said you died for him in the past, didn’t you? How’d that happen?”

Eurytion explained his immortality, chosen way back when in his half-blood era. Percy stood beside you leaning on the fencing, raising his hand to shield his bright eyes from the blinding sun. In turn, his shadow blocked you, dimming the feel of burning on your face.

“You can change things ‘round here,” offered Percy, “be nice to the animals, not selling them. If we leave you here, you’ve got to stop trading with the Titans.”

Eurytion thought about it hard, and long. He sat silent, just pondering, until eventually he nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Hey, if you get the animals on your side, maybe when Geryon comes back, he’ll be working for you. Tables—turned.”

Eurytion hummed, chuckling low in his throat. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he grinned. He waved off in the distance. “Now go. I haven’t had peace and quiet in years. And the girl looks like she needs a hospital. Seriously, you look sick.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’re not gonna stop us?” Grover pushed away from his seat. You leaned your elbow on his shoulder.

“Hell no.”

Despite his calm, laidback demeanour, you couldn’t help feeling suspicious. Raising your bottle to your warm cheeks, cooling them a little, you asked the question stuck on your mind. “He said somebody paid for our safe passage. The only person I can think of down here who could have done so would be Hera. She met us in the maze. She gave us some not-so-helpful advice. You seen her anywhere?”

Eurytion shrugged. “I don’t know what he was talking about. And I ain’t seen any gods round here, lady.”

“What about Luke, and his army? Did you actually tell them we’re here?”

He scoffed with humour. “Did I hell. We were waiting until after the barbecue. So to answer your indirect question, missus, they don’t know about Mr. Nico.”

The boy himself glared right at you with such passion it almost physically burned. Two options were here and two only.

“You can come with us and get out of here,” you offered. “Or you can stay on the ranch for a while. Either way you’d be quite safe.”

Nico’s face warped to one of fury. His skinny fists clenched at his sides. “I’m not going anywhere with you! Safe? What do you know about being safe? You got my sister killed!”

You practically saw red. Shoving your bag into Percy’s fumbling arms, you leaned down to face Nico, who ground his teeth loudly. “Alright, you little shit—let’s get one thing straight before we go anywhere: I did not get your sister killed. I’ve thought long and hard about it, and ultimately I’ve decided that Bianca had her own brain, and her own free will. I didn’t make her do anything, and I didn’t push her. It was a tragic accident, okay?”

“Nico,” Percy stood beside you, laying a warm hand on your shoulder and urging you back from the kid who didn’t move. “She’s right. Please believe her. Believe us. None of this was anybody’s fault. Staying here would be fine, you don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to. But if Kronos finds out about you, he’ll take you, and he’ll do anything to get you on his side. It won’t be good, Nico, trust me.”

Nico turned his face away. “I’m not on anyone’s side. And I’m not scared of any of this.”

“You really should be. Bianca wouldn’t want any of this.”

He turned back. Nico’s eyes swam with tears, and you felt a little bad for popping off. “If you knew my sister, you know she’d want to come back! If you cared about her, you’d help me to bring her back.”

“A soul for a soul, right?”

“Yes!”

Percy looked troubled. “But if you didn’t want B, and you didn’t want me, then who?”

“I’m not explaining anything to either of you!” He exclaimed. When a tiny tear tread down his cheek, Nico raised his hand to wipe it away aggressively. “I’m going to bring her back. She’s my sister. I need to…I need her.” He rubbed his eyes viciously.

You deflated. Nico tried to look brave, and act older than he was, but his eyes were rimmed with red as he rubbed at them, and he choked on his tears. All of a sudden you wanted nothing more than to sit him down and talk to him, apologise for shouting when he was so upset. You wanted to kick yourself for acting impulsively, and shouting at a child as they cried. At fifteen years old, you should have known better. You reminded yourself terribly then of your father.

“Why don’t we ask Bianca what she wants?”

Nico’s face stilled. “I’ve tried,” he said miserably. “She won’t answer.”

“Try again,” shrugged Percy. A cold breeze shocked you, suddenly. In the distance, storm clouds were rolling in out of a perfectly sunny day…. “I have a feeling she’ll answer with me here.” He sounded very confident in that, and for what reason?

“Why would she?” Asked Nico.

“Because she’s been sending me messages,” Percy shifted on his feet at the sudden onslaught of confused looks. “I’m sure she has. She’s been warning me of what you’re doing. She wanted me to protect you.”

Nico wiped his eyes furiously. “That’s impossible.”

“Why is it?” Percy offered. “Besides, didn’t you say you’re not afraid? Let’s try it. We’ll need a lot of food, and a pit. You got anything like a grave around here?”

—

The grave happened to be dug especially by yourself and Grover. You never were one for gardening, and you find yourself slacking towards the end of the grave-digging.

“Come on,” urged Grover, sweaty and tired. “Just—we can do this. We’ve got this. Positive thinking. Deep breath in…”

You want to tell Grover that positive thinking won’t influence positive actions, because your limbs feel like lead. But together you finish the grave, and your friends pull you out of it. You waited until dark, the five of you and the dog, to call on the dead. With crates of root beer at the ready, Nico paced back and forth, anxious. You sat at the edge of the grave and dangled your legs in, exhausted beyond belief. Every now and then you had to kick away a bug. Grover sat on his heels, sleeping on the crates of root beer.

“Minos should be here by now!” Came Nico’s tiny voice, his dark eyes full of worry. The moon was high and full and bright. Percy’s infinite gray streak shone in the light, a patch among dark, dark hair. “It’s dark enough. It’s late enough…”

“Maybe he got lost,” suggested Percy. Nico glared furiously.

Percy crouched beside you and clapped you on the shoulder, digging his fingers in as a means to try and show you he was there. Maybe he knew you well enough by now to know you were getting irritated and agitated, waiting and tired and forcing your eyes to stay open.

Little Nico grew fed up himself, and wrenched a bottle of root beer from the crate, pouring it into the pit. Grover jerked away, and began helping. With food in a pile from the forgotten barbecue, Nico’s hands dashed out hungrily, and threw them into the pit too, chanting in Ancient Greek. To anyone else, the sudden chill of the night air and the aura that settled with Nico’s chanting might have been terrifying, or uncomfortable. You found the grim ordeal that was summoning the dead to be a rather interesting situation. Something satisfying in raising what once was. A reminder that things never truly died.

It didn’t take long for someone to come forward. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the right someone.

A dark shade of blue, a thin and whispery figure that mirrored who it was once, kneeled at the edge of the grave and reached in. The image somewhat shimmered, and when you looked hard enough, features showed through; deep-set eyes, hardened and somewhat angry; facial features showing crows feet around the eyes, dark brows…

“Minos!” Yelled Nico, suddenly on guard. He brought forth his sword, aimed at the ghost. “What are you doing?!”

“My apologies,” he said, though there wasn’t a hint of sorry in there. Slowly, the ghost’s image grew a bit more real, more colorful. “The sacrifice seemed too good to leave be. Almost in solid form—it’s nice to see myself again.”

“You are disrupting the Ritual! Leave, now!”

Minos paid him no mind. You’d long since jumped away from the edge of the grave, and joined Percy’s side, but something about the ghost ignited in you a want to take Nico’s sword and run the loser through with it. He turned to the two of you, running his eyes in a way that had you almost wretching.

“Percy Jackson!” He hummed. “My, my. The sons of Poseidon never seem to get any better.”

A rude and untrue comment, because you’d seen old images of Greek heroes, and Percy was the best by a million. Not that you’d say that out loud, or anything.

Percy had a lot more self-control than you did in the moment, because he simply took a deep breath, and said, “We’re looking for Bianca. Get lost.”

“Do you really believe Daedalus will help you?” Minos taunted, tilting his head. Nico had begun chanting again, kneeling at the edge of the pit with Grover kneeling dutifully at his side, taking care. “He cares nothing for you, half-bloods! You certainly cannot trust him. He’s cursed by the gods, and guilty of murder. You want somebody like that on your side?”

“Who did he kill?” Asked Percy.

“Don’t change the subject!” Minos spat, a confirmation that he was talking bull, really. “Stop hindering Nico. Don’t persuade him to abandon his goals!”

“We’re helping Nico,” you touched your dagger tucked away in the pocket of your pants. “He’s a child. Leave him alone.”

The ghost settled by Nico’s ear, leaning down to mutter. Nico visibly flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t listen to them, Nico. Let me protect you, not them. I’ll turn them to madness as I did the others. Just say the word.”

If Minos wasn’t already dead, you swore, you’d have killed him there and then.

“Was it you?” Barked Percy. “Did you hurt Chris Rodriguez?”

Minos rolled his eyes lazily, turning around to face Percy. He got in real close to his face; Percy’s arm shot out in front of you and urged you backwards, away from the vile ghost. “The maze is my property,” he hummed. Percy refused to back away. “Those who intrude on it deserve madness.”

Nico turned furious, whether at Minos’s lecturing, or his interrupting. Either way, he turned to the ghost and ran him through with his sword. “Go away, Minos! Leave us!” His voice turned sad and desperate, like he was tired of this too. “Bianca! Come on!”

It was heart-wrenching, watching Nico beg for his dead sister. It wasn’t fair.

But she’d heard him. Bianca came forth, a silvery wisp of light from the dark trees in the distance, growing closer. You didn’t feel wary of her, and Percy dropped his sword, Nico backed away to give her space, and Grover shuffled away from the edge as Bianca knelt to accept the offering in the pit. When she got to her feet, she was a solid hue of silvery-blue form, the image of herself in life. It was like the chatter grew quiet, the chaos turned silent, when Bianca smiled sadly at her brother. Nico had grown still, and pale.

He wasn’t the first one she spoke to, though. “Hello, Percy,” said Bianca, her voice like a lullaby. Her body flickered like the stars would, before it stilled.

“Bianca…” One look at Percy had you reaching for his hand, clasping it between both of yours. He was choked up. You didn’t blame him one bit—you hadn’t known Bianca well at all, and she’d killed herself in the process of saving you all, but even seeing her again like this had your throat burning. “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Percy. I made my choice.” Somehow, she seemed older, calmer, and a whole lot more at peace, as if this didn’t phase her and her death was simply an article she’d read in a paper and let pass over her, at the back of her mind. “I don’t regret it, either.” Her eyes, a mirror of Nico’s own, fell on you. What did you look like to her, you wondered later? Holding back your own teary eyes the way Percy did.

She turned to face her brother quickly, and his name fell from her lips. She turned sad.

“Oh, Nico.” She raised a hand to cover her mouth. “You’ve gotten so tall.”

“Why didn’t you answer me any sooner!” He exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to find you for months!”

“I was hoping you’d give up, Nico. Please give up.”

Heartbroken, Nico reached for her, but his hand passed right through. “Give up?…I’d never!”

“I need you to do this, Nico. Trust Percy. Trust her.”

“No! She let you die! They’re not our friends!”

Bianca’s ghostly hand reached out to touch Nico’s cheek, but she fizzled out too quickly, and never made contact with him. “You must listen to me now, because this is important. Holding grudges is bad for children of Hades. It’s our fatal flaw, and you must forgive.”

“I can’t. I’ll never.”

Bianca struggled, exhaled. Her eyes betrayed every feeling in her body—anguish, anger, sadness. “Percy has been worried for you, Nico. I let him see what you were up to so that he could help you. You understand, don’t you?”

“It was you, then,” shuddered Percy. “You were sending me those messages.”

Bianca nodded softly. “I was.”

Nico demanded her attention. “No, listen!” He screamed and went to grab at her again. “Don’t help him! Help me! This isn’t fair!”

Bianca kneeled to be face-to-face with Nico. “You’re so close to the truth now, Nico. Believe me. It isn’t them you’re angry at; it’s me. And it’s okay to be angry, do you understand? You’re allowed to be upset—”

“No!” He heaved a great cry.

“You’re mad because I left you, to join the Hunters. And you’re so angry because I died and left you here. It wasn’t my intention, and I’m sorry.” Bianca’s voice turned thick with emotion. “But you must try to accept this, now. I cannot come back. And you must stay with them.” She nodded at you and Percy.

“I just want you back,” Nico sobbed. Bianca, on her knees, looked as if in a great deal of pain. She swallowed hard, and her voice was shaky.

“You can’t have that, Nico. This is how it has to be. And one day, we’ll be reunited again properly. Trust me. Believe in that. I’m never too far away, even when you can’t reach me. But for now, you have to let me go. Can you do that for me, Nico? You’re so strong…you’re so brave.” She turned suddenly to look over her shoulder at something the rest of you couldn’t see. “I must go now. Your powers are attracting unwanted attention. I have to go back.”

“Wait!” A terrible, pained cry ripped from Nico’s throat. “Please don’t go!” He heaved. “Please stay! Don’t leave me here!”

“I love you, Nico.”

You understand Bianca then, and her decision. It was why you dropped Percy’s warm hand and took up Nico’s cold, limp one. He heaved and cried, and didn’t protest when you lay your free hand on the side of his head, and gently pulled him to you. You raised your gaze from Nico’s teary, reddened eyes, squeezed tightly shut, to Bianca’s mirrored gaze. A single, shiny tear trailed down her translucent face, and you tried to convey one last message: Nico would not be alone.

She nodded slowly, and sniffled once. Getting to her feet, Bianca managed a sad smile, and lowered her eyes to Nico once more. He was the last thing she saw, as she trailed out of the mortal world for the final time. Bianca di Angelo simply faded away.

Just because she’d told him to trust you, didn’t mean he trusted you right away. That night, Nico sat out on the porch alone, talking to somebody that wasn’t there, crying to himself. You’d tried to talk to him, but had no luck. Nico demanded to be left alone, so you left him. When you returned two hours later, he’d fallen asleep on the bench, a hand tucked under his cheek. Percy dug out a blanket from one of the bedrooms upstairs, and you’d covered Nico over as the night air grew chilly. Your heart felt heavy, but the day’s trials didn’t prevent you from falling asleep quickly. The boys took the sofas downstairs, and you picked a spot at the bay window with a comforter and pillows. Sleep took you the second you laid down your head.

Your mother decided it was a good time to pop up and say hello, apparently.

You recognised the setting immediately as New York’s Public Library. Beyond the windows lining either two walls, the sky was black as could be, no stars or anything showing through. The lights and the slightly dusty chandeliers on the ceiling of the grand roof were golden, more yellow than usual, and the tables stretching the length of the hall were empty as could be, the dark stretch of tile down the middle aisle echoing your footsteps the further you walked.

At the end of the wall, standing beneath the clock small in the grand wall, was a tall lady, casual as could be in jeans and a pretty sweatshirt. This didn’t defer her from wearing a sword in a scabbard at her hip. Long, light hair was tied back in a practical bun, tight and secure. In her hands was a heavy book, and her brilliant gray eyes scanned it furiously. She didn’t look up from it until you’d paused at her side, peering up at the taller woman, admiring her. Strange, how the gods technically had no DNA, and yet you were her mirror image. The same jawline, the same nose, definitely the same eyes. She was pretty, really pretty, and she carried herself with confidence.

It would have been nice to be acknowledged, however similar you were.

“Mom?” You voiced into the quiet library air.

“Chapter eighteen of The Iliad—what do you know of it?”

You raise your eyebrows, curiously. “I don’t know off the top of my head, exactly. There’s a fight over Patroclus’s body, isn’t there? Real dramatic, like. They’re worried about going to fight the Trojans. Achilles worries about the outcome of Patroclus going out to join the fight.”

“Do you notice any similarities between this and our life?” She quips. Your mom huffed at something she read, and snapped the book shut. The cover was battered leather, the title almost rubbed away. It was old, but no dust rose from it.

You shrug, and feel somewhat nervous. “We’re history repeating itself?” You offer. “Is this to do with Bianca, last night? The fight over what happened to her, fighting over what she wanted for her end?”

Mom hummed, and threw the book over her shoulder. You had a sudden desire to catch it, but as you went to grab it, as it hit your hands, heavy as hell, it disappeared, as though she’d never thrown a thing. Your mother turned to watch you, bringing your brows together, spinning in a circle to look for this damn book like a stupid dog chasing its tail.

“The fight for life is always happening,” said mom, factually. “What happened to Bianca di Angelo was a negligible accident. She could have been saved.”

Frozen, you shakily exhaled. Gray met the mirror image.

“She could have been saved, but it was her destiny. You understand, don’t you, daughter? That what is meant to be is meant to be. So even though you could have saved her life one way or another, she was supposed to die.”

You scoff, and surprise yourself at the burning in your eyes. “People aren’t supposed to just die, mom. When their time comes, when they’re old, then sure. Not like this.”

“Was it not Bianca’s time? Who decides when it is right to die?”

“What’s the point of this?” You snap. “Did you bring me here just to take a dig at me?”

“Everybody has their time. I’m here to tell you to your friend that he should stop meddling in things. Leave things well alone.”

“Great advice. After we’ve sorted things. Bit late to the party.”

“Not entirely.” She tilted her head. “Before I go, just one thing—tell Percy Jackson to let the dead rest, when the time comes.”

“That’s ominous.”

“That’s life,” mom hummed. “I’ll let you go, now. The boy is trying to wake you up.”

When you come to, Percy is knelt beside you. Sunrise is in your eyes, and Nico is shouting downstairs. You gather your things, and prepare to make your way back into the maze.

—

TAGLIST

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore

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@obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m @cxcilla @itzjustj-1000 @sp00kcanwrite

@randomesthings @fratbrochrisgf

[mmavverickk]

I “love” the betrayal fics where the entire camp suddenly believes that this new guy has actually accomplished all of Percy’s achievements and Percy lied to all of them, like camp didn’t literally witness half of those accomplishments and like Percy actually outright says “I did X.” Percy says almost nothing about what he does, Camp hears about most of his achievements from others

oh, we've all seen those fics. new guy shows up, he's actually Percy's half-brother. Annabeth suddenly only has eyes for him, everyone suddenly hates Percy because new guy does too, Poseidon may or may not disown Percy, and then Percy runs away and joins Chaos.

it's been copied and pasted thousands of times in hundreds of ways.

not a single one of those fics has Percy's departure from Camp happen realistically. it's not even impossible to grow resentment between Percy and the campers, which is what these writers seem to want. but the way they go about it? a cookie cutter asshole pied piper OC who steals the spotlight and turns Camp into a hostile mob of angry demigods? Unrealistic. 0/10 trope, literally 50% of why i will not read fanfictions with OCs.

have some realistic ways of turning Camp against Percy or vice versa:

- Percy could be captured. The area he was taken from is drenched in blood. no one could survive that, Percy's gotta be dead, so Camp doesn't look for him. after [x amount of time] of captivity and probably torture, Percy gives up hoping for a rescue. he discovers darker uses for his powers, frees himself, and doesn't go back to camp, because they abandoned him. opens the road for angst and emotion and tearful reunions etc.

- Camp is attacked. maybe it was a lazy beach day. no one is ready, only a few campers have their weapons. they're outnumbered and maybe surrounded and definitely out of options. Percy won't let anyone die. two ways to go about this one:

A) percy destroys the attackers single-handedly, using every tool in his arsenal, every fucked up thing he can think of to make sure his people survive. he controls poison and blood and drowns monsters and, i don't know, freezes them into ice cubes or boils their skin or stops their hearts. Camp is terrified of him now. he leaves. or B) the armed campers fight back, but percy isn't fighting. he's busy keeping the injured from dying. how? he's controlling their blood. he won't let it deviate from its normal path. Camp is terrified of him now. he leaves.

- [x god] sends Percy on a quest. but, surprise! it's not a quest! it's a trick, to lead Percy to his death! Percy survives, but can't go back or he'll be revealing he's still alive before he figures out why [x god] tried to have him killed and if there's anyone else behind it. fun conspiracy vibes.

- percy adopts a new pet, except this time it's a drakon. "Percy," Chiron says very patiently and not-at-all exasperated, "you can't keep a drakon as a pet. it will eat your friends and we don't have the space." Percy flips authority the bird and strikes out with his new pet to find somewhere they can settle. kinda cracky but written right it could be funny.

- Percy pisses Zeus off. not surprising. Zeus wants to kill Percy. not surprising. for his own good, Chiron sends Percy on a roadtrip/changes his name and sends him to mexico along with multiple witness protection agents/quest to keep Percy out of sight for a while to allow the king of olympus time to cool down, because we like when percy is alive and also the war poseidon would wage at his death would kill us all.

are all of them 100% realistic? no, but neither is Percy leaving Camp. Hera had to literally kidnap him and erase his memory to keep him away. the point is that they're different and plausible, and not the same exact trope repeated over and over again until i can tell you the plot of hundreds of betrayal works in one sentence.

[honeyedmiller]

Tailgate | Joel Miller

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, smut, very little fluff, 8-year age gap. use of y/n (i’m sorry ik lmao). 18+, minors do not interact.

word count: 4.2k

synopsis: your best friend drags you to a tailgate party, and you end up being introduced to one very attractive Miller brother.

-

"Y/n, come on," Y/b/f/n whined at you, nudging your leg with her knee. You were sprawled across the couch in the living room of your shared apartment, and you groaned in protest.

"Why do I have to go? It's too hot to tailgate." Texas summer heat was no joke. You'd much rather be cooped up in your humble abode with the air conditioning on full blast while you mindlessly flipped through the cable channels.

"Because," She points a bright-red manicured finger at you, "You need to have some fun. Plus, I really want you to meet Tommy." Tommy was y/b/f/n's boyfriend of five months, whom you've yet to meet. Guess this would be a good opportunity to do so.

"Fine." You groan, rolling your eyes. You knew you'd give in eventually, but you needed to add the dramatics just for the hell of it. Y/b/f/n squealed in delight, jumping up a couple of times before reaching her arms out to you to drag you up from your lazed position on the couch.

She ushered you to your room so you could change out of your gym shorts and sports bra. You ended up wearing some distressed daisy dukes with a white tank top that buttoned down in the front, leaving the top two buttons undone. You put on your brown leather belt with a gold buckle, slipped on your cowgirl boots, and lazily put your hair in a low style.

You emerged from your room truthfully ready to get this night over with. You weren't much of a party person— anymore, that is. Those wild child party days ended the day you got your college degree.

"Well damn, hot mama," Y/b/f/n called out to you. You tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn't help but crack a smile. "You're missin' just one thing." She places your cowgirl hat on top of your head, and you immediately felt the most country you've ever been since you moved to Austin.

-

You headed to the tailgate, sitting passenger in y/b/f/n's truck. Your feet were kicked up and sticking out of the window, summer breeze whipping through the cab of the truck as you drove down a dirt road. The sun was barely setting even though it was nearing 7 p.m., but you let the warm rays soak into your skin regardless.

The summer heat may've been a bitch, but you couldn't help but love the season regardless. You loved the long days and feeling of freedom.

You pulled up to the tailgate not even ten minutes later, setting sight on quite a few people already here. Country music was blasting through a speaker, multiple trucks parked in a big circle with the tailgates of their trucks facing a bonfire pit that was smack in the middle. Lots of ice chests lay on the ground, and many people already had a beer in their hands. Some were singing along to the song, some were dancing, and some were chatting amongst themselves without a care in the world.

The sight before you made you slightly smile. Y/b/f/n backed her truck up to fit into the circle, next to a black four-door truck with its tailgate already open.

You bring your legs back into the truck as y/b/f/n kills the engine, and you hop out. You help y/b/f/n unload the ice chest from the back of her truck onto the ground, only for her to be greeted by someone right after.

"Babe! There you are," A tall man with slicked back black hair approaches y/b/f/n, giving her a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Tommy, this is y/n, my best friend I've been telling you about. Y/n, this is Tommy." Y/b/f/n introduced you both, and you shake each other's hands.

"Nice to finally meet you." You smile up at him, letting go of his firm grip shortly after you greet him.

"Likewise. Y/b/f/n talks about you all the time, so it's nice to finally put a face to the name," Tommy chuckles, then quickly looks up behind the black truck you were standing by. "'Scuse me just a moment." He puts his cowboy hat back on and walks away.

You raise your eyebrow at y/b/f/n. "Wow, you go girl. He's cute." You laugh, and she nudges you.

"I know, right?" You two had a small fit of laughter, but was cut short when Tommy approached you two once more with someone else by his side.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw the man standing before you. He was tall, muscular, and quite literally one of the most handsome men you've ever laid your eyes on. He was wearing a gray shirt with dark blue jeans and black boots. He had a black cowboy hat atop his head, just like Tommy, except dark brown locks were peaking out of the sides instead of black.

His dark brown eyes seemed gentle and kind, but they were scanning your body just as yours were doing to him. He didn't fail to notice the incredibly short shorts you were wearing that made your legs look like they went on for miles, or the way the setting sun made your skin absolutely glow. You quite literally took his breath away with your beauty.

"Y/n, I'd like you to meet my older brother Joel." Tommy smiled, and a blush swept its way across your cheeks.

Why didn't y/b/f/n tell you Tommy had an insanely gorgeous older brother?

"It's nice to meet you, darlin'." Joel tips his hat down to you, and you muster up the best smile you could. You didn't want to seem too smitten by this beautiful man, but god, how could you not?

"You too." You say almost inaudibly. You felt slightly annoyed with yourself, because no man had ever made you shy like this. Why now? You shook the feeling off for now, not wanting it to ruin your mood.

As the night went on, more people showed and the bonfire started up. Soon enough the sky looked nearly pitch black but the air still carried a small, warm breeze. You were babysitting the beer Tommy had opened for you— not that you didn't like it, but you weren't really in the mood to drink.

You took another swig of the half-full bottle anyhow, figuring you'd at least have the means to finish it... slowly. You were perched up on the back of y/b/f/n's open tailgate, legs swinging back and forth over the edge. Your left arm was extended behind you to hold yourself up.

Y/b/f/n was mingling with Tommy and some of his friends in the distance, and the sight made you smile. You loved seeing her happy.

You heard dirt crunching under heavy boots next to you that pulled you from your thoughts, so you shifted your gaze until you met Joel's eyes. He gave you a lipped half-smile, standing next to you. He had a beer in one of his hands as well, but it didn't seem like he was drunk.

"Hey there, darlin'," He leans against y/b/f/n's truck, eyes never leaving yours. "Why're ya all alone?" The glow of the fire brought out the warmth in Joel's skin tone, illuminating half of his features.

You shrug your shoulders. "Just waitin' for someone like you to keep me company." You teased, earning a deep, guttural chuckle from him.

"Oh yeah? Well I hope I'm good company." He sits onto the tailgate next to you, and you offer him a smile.

"So, you and Tommy are brothers? You two seem like total opposites from what I've seen." You sit straight up, moving one of your legs up to your chest as you take another sip of the now semi-warm beer. You grimace at the taste, but swallow it anyway.

Joel chuckles softly, "Yeah, we are. I guess it's the true older brother-younger brother dynamic. He's always been the trouble maker and I'm the one that always saves his ass." Joel rolls his eyes, finding his brother's antics to be preposterous at times.

"What, like he hasn't had to drag you off of a few guys you've gotten into fights with?" You challenge, cocking an eyebrow up as you eye him wearily.

"How did you— who told you that?" He was shocked that you even knew that about him, because he sure as hell didn't go around telling people his business like that.

"Tommy's a little drunk, and apparently gets mouthy when he's on a good one," You laugh, nudging Joel in the shoulder. "Besides, I'm just messin' with you. I think that's kinda hot." The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even comprehend what you were saying, and a look of pure desire flashed across Joel's eyes.

His grip got a smidge tighter around the beer bottle he was holding, but you were too busy having the most naughty thoughts about the man sitting inches from you to notice. You felt your panties dampen at the way he looked at you, and just couldn't help but imagine what you two were capable of if you were left alone with each other.

"Okay then, what about you little miss innocent?" He tilts his head, his eyes giving your body a once-over.

"Who said I was innocent?" Your words suddenly brewed something deep inside you, and Joel's stare on you wasn't helping. It made you want to squirm.

"Are you not?" Joel provoked, moving noticeably closer to you. His left knee was touching your right one now, and the tension grew so thick in the moment that you felt like you could choke any second.

It was so fucking hard to breathe.

"Wouldn't you love to find out." You leaned in to him, your faces dangerously close. A couple inches more and you'd be kissing the man.

"Yeah," Joel was almost breathless, "I would." You looked around after he responded, noticing a house only a couple hundred feet away.

You nodded your head to the nice home, "Who's house?" You looked back at Joel, biting your lip.

If there was one thing about you, is that you loved to prove people wrong. You made damn sure Joel was no longer unbeknownst to that by the end of the night.

"Mine and Tommy's." He answers after a few seconds, and you smile devilishly.

"Perfect. I'd love to see your room, if you'll have me." You peered up at him innocently, trying to play the part of the version of you he had in his head.

He immediately hopped off the tailgate and held out his hand for you to take, which you graciously did. Once your boots touched the dirt beneath you, Joel was practically dragging you to the house. He'd truly never wanted anyone as bad as you before, and playing it cool clearly wasn't an option in his books.

He wanted to make it known.

As soon as you step inside the house, you sigh in relief as the cool air hits your skin. You look around a bit, liking how the house actually looks lived in. It was cozy, and definitely felt like a home.

"C'mon darlin'," Joel coaxed, jerking his head in the direction of the staircase. "Bedroom's upstairs." He let you lead, and on the way up, you catch a glimpse of a picture with Joel and a young girl in it. He saw you looking, and spoke before you even thought to ask.

"That's my daughter Sarah." He says, and you look back at him. You smile softly, looking back at the picture.

"She's beautiful." You tell him, and he grins before you keep walking up to the top step.

"She's not here right now, is she?" You ask him, causing him to suppress a laugh. You would definitely not want to do what you wanted with this man if his sweet daughter was under the same roof. No freakin' way.

"No, she's at her grandparents. Got the house to our selves all night." He spins you around and takes your cowgirl hat off of your head so he can dip his face down to be level with yours.

"Tell me, darlin', what do you want to do with such allotted time?" He's so close to you that the proximity between his body and yours starts to make you dizzy.

"I have a few things in mind, cowboy." You flick the brim of his hat, and he pulls you in by the waist so your body is flush against his.

"Oh yeah?" His voice is barely above a whisper, "And what's that?"

You couldn't take the tension anymore, so you finally closed the gap between you two and mashed your lips to his. You've never kissed someone with so much hunger and fervor.

His lips were velvety soft, just as you'd imagined. You moan softly into the kiss, and he moves you back so your back is pressed against his bedroom door. He immediately swipes his tongue on your bottom lip, and you instantly open your mouth, teeth clashing and tongue moving swiftly but in sync.

God, this man is a phenomenal kisser.

"I need that tongue somewhere else, cowboy." You brokenly spoke through the hot kiss, causing him to groan. He reached behind you to find the doorknob as the other arm snaked around your back to hold you steady against him.

He opened the door to his bedroom, walking you backwards to the bed in the middle of the room. Once the back of your knees hit the mattress, Joel broke the kiss and laid you down gently. He put your hat on top of his dresser alongside his, making sure to close and lock his bedroom door before returning back to you. He hovered above you, admiring your figure and your pretty face.

"Damn darlin', the hell you doin' to me?" He whispered mainly to himself, but you heard him perfectly clear. You reached up for his shoulders and brought him on top of you, smashing your lips to his once more. Your hands trailed down his abdomen until you reached the bottom.

He separated himself from you to look down at you, giving you a small reassuring smile before you slowly lifted the gray shirt above his head. You tossed it onto the floor somewhere, hands immediately moving to his belt buckle.

He chuckled at your eagerness, "Slow down there, pretty girl. Lift your arms for me." He coos, brown eyes boring into yours. You do as he asks, and he grabs both your wrists together in one hand, holding them above your head. He goes back down to kiss you then swiftly moves to your neck, the stubble on his jaw slightly tickling you.

Once his tongue made contact with the hot skin on your neck, you knew it was a wrap.

God damn soft spots.

You sigh in pleasure, and Joel takes immediate notice to your neediness becoming more prominent. He separates his lips from your neck, trailing them down to the top of your still-covered breasts. He dips his head down where the two buttons were undone, kissing you there once before nibbling on the area just in the slightest.

You let out a soft moan, unaware of your moving hips. They were trying to find something to move against to create friction. You needed something, anything— but Joel wouldn't let you. Not yet.

He kept kissing down your sternum, making sure his tongue consistently made contact with your trembling, hot skin.

"Joel, please," You sound whiny and begging, which you'd normally hate, but you needed this man so badly it nearly hurt. Your core was dripping at this point, but Joel wasn't done with the teasing just yet.

"Patience, darlin'," He tsks, making you instinctively bite your lip in agony.

He slid your tank top up your stomach with his free hand, finding its way to one of your breasts. He started to massage one, moving his lips lower and lower until he reached the top of your daisy dukes.

He moved his hand from your breast to unbutton the button on your shorts, immediately sliding his hand down the front. He almost hisses at the contact of your slickness.

"You're so wet for me already, baby. Fuck." He tries to keep his composure, but the way you were so needy for him in this moment made him want to lose his mind. But, the smidge of patience he had left in him overcame his rational senses, making sure to take his time with you.

He used his middle finger to move up and down your heat, and you started to roll your hips into his touch to cause friction.

"Needy little thing, aren't ya?" He chuckled, moving his finger down so it slowly entered you. You gasped, moaning at the newness of the feeling before he started to move his finger in and out of you, making sure to curl it just the tiniest bit.

Just this action alone had you writhing beneath him uncontrollably.

"Joel, fuck, please," You pleaded, "I need your mouth on me." He looked up at your pretty face, your eyebrows furrowed and eyes clamped shut.

He pulled his finger out of you, slick and warm. "Open your mouth." He says, and you once again do as he asks. How submissive of you.

He puts his finger into your mouth and you immediately suck on his finger, tongue swirling around the whole thing until he pulls it from you. Your hands were still being held above your head, but in all honesty, you enjoyed it. It was hot. He was hot.

Joel pulled your tank top up, just enough to cover your eyes. He let go of your wrists, but you didn't dare to move your hands. He slid your shorts off with ease, along with your hot pink panties. Joel smirked at the color choice.

"Open your legs for me, darlin'." Joel was suave with his words, sounding like butter to your ears. Again, you did as he asked, opening your legs for him. All you could see was the light from his bedside lamp, but other than that, not a damn thing. You had no idea where he was exactly, and the thought made your heart palpitate.

"So fuckin' pretty," He murmurs, moving a knuckle up and down your folds, "All for me."

You groan at his praise, suddenly feeling his lips kiss your inner thighs. The kisses were light and feathery, almost ticklish. He moved one hand up to rest on your lower abdomen, spreading his fingers out so it covered most of the area.

His kisses eventually made their way up to your aching heat, and he kissed you not once, not twice, but three times on your dripping core. His mouth was already slick from you, and fuck you tasted so divine to him.

He finally delved his tongue into your folds, flicking his tongue slowly and teasingly. His tongue lapped away at you, moaning into your core. He'd never tasted something so... so... addicting in his life. He would stay down there forever just to devour you if he could.

"Fuck, Joel, that feels so fucking good." You're panting, mind going blank of all other things besides how good this man is making you feel.

His skilled tongue worshipped you like you were a goddess, and in that moment, you were Aphrodite.

He added a finger back into you, pumping at a steady pace while he continued to lap away at you. The sensation became nearly unbearable, and you knew your undoing was short lived.

"Please, don't stop." You pant, and he moaned against you as if to say "message received."

You felt the hot pleasure burn through your core, and once Joel felt your walls clench around his finger, he lightly pressed down on your abdomen. Your orgasm ripped through you violently, screaming his name. He licked the inside of your thighs slowly as you were trying to come down from your high, your body still quivering.

He moved up from between your thighs, uncovering your eyes and taking your tank top off of you completely. You looked up at him, spent and woozy. His mustache and beard were still glistening from your wetness.

You bit your lip as you reached a hand up to his cheek, and you brought his face down to yours so you could kiss him. The kiss was much gentler this time, but tasting yourself on his lips aroused you once again.

"Take off your pants," You whisper, and he lightly smiles at you before standing up straight and removing his bottoms. "Underwear too." You laugh as he gives you a cheeky grin. He takes off his underwear slowly, letting his erection be known to you and your vision. You took in the sight before you, licking your lips before you got on your knees.

"Lay down," You coax him, and without question, he does. You move your body between his thighs, and you grin up at him innocently. You spit into your hand, moving it to his length and you slowly moved your hand up and down. Your thumb ran over his swollen tip a couple of times, hearing him sharply intake a breath.

You peer up at him through your lashes before lowering your head, and he tries to stifle a moan.

"Sweets, if you keep lookin' at me like that, I'm gonna finish quicker than we'd both like." He admits, and you purse your lips before moving your mouth down to his tip. He grabs a handful of your hair and you fix your position, so your ass is perched up but your mouth is at his length.

You start gently swirling your tongue around the tip, taking your sweet time before leaving a soft kiss before you use your tongue to lick all the way down to the base. You repeat yourself a few times before using your lips to glaze down the side, then back to the top before you took him into your mouth.

Your pace was so tantalizingly slow that he started to buck his hips into your mouth. You removed your mouth from him, looking up at him once more.

"Slow down there, cowboy." You smirked as he realized you were using his own words against him, causing him to groan.

"Fuck, y/n, quit teasin' me baby." His grip on your hair gets tighter, and you immediately move your head down again, no hesitation.

You began to move your head at a steady pace, trying to take as much of him in as possible. It was starting to become a wet mess, but neither of you quite frankly gave a damn.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum soon. I don't want to yet." He pulls your head up from him, and your eyes snap up to look at him.

"Let me ride you." You state, blinking at him before he lets go of your hair.

"Oh, absolutely darlin'. Please." He moves you up so you're now hovering over his body, skin hot to the touch. His hands slide down to your hips, positioning you above his length.

"Are you—" He pauses, and you nod.

"Yeah. IUD." You say, and he nods before you slowly sink down on his aching length. Both of you let out simultaneous moans, giving yourself a second to adjust to his length.

"Joel," You purr, resting your hands on his strong chest, "You feel so goddamn good." You start to move forward and backward slowly, rocking your hips. The feeling of him made you want to melt.

"So do you." He's breathless at this point, aching for sweet release. His fingers dig into your hips, coaxing them to move a bit faster. Once you found a good rhythm, Joel raised a hand and smacked your ass, hard.

You let out a loud moan, feeling complete bliss and euphoria in this very moment.

"That's it, baby— right there, darlin', please don't stop." Joel's desperation in his voice brought back that quickly brewing desire deep in the pit of your core, and you felt yourself clench.

That sent Joel absolutely insane.

"Fuck! Oh, god," He moans loudly, thrusting his hips up into you at that point. He wanted that damn release, and that's what he was going to get. "I'm gonna c—" Before he could even finish his sentence, he found that sweet goddamn release. His thrusts came to a slow, but he moved his hand down to your clit and started to move his fingers in circles at a fast pace, and in no time, you were relieved of the ache in your core. You lifted yourself off of him, both of your breaths an erratic mess. He pulled you into him as he kissed the top of your head, trying to steady his breathing.

One thing's for sure, though— Joel knew, he definitely knew— you were definitely not little miss innocent, and he was a goddamn naïve cowboy.

[baocean]

FRIENDS DON’T - JJ MAYBANK

Part 5 of my country series 😫

Summary: you weren’t exactly certain on how best friends acted around each other, but you knew it wasn’t how you and JJ did

Pairing: JJ x kook!reader

Note: it literally would not let me link the song, if you’re interested in listening as well the song is ‘Friends Don’t’ by Maddie & Tae

“No, sorry John B, I promised y/n I was gonna go to some event with her tonight.” JJ told his best friend, walking into an extra room in the chateau to look for a change of clothes.

“Dude, what the hell? You promised me we were going to the boneyard though!” John B followed him, throwing his hands up in protest.

“We’ll go another night, JB. This is more important.” JJ faced John B, giving him a apologetic look.

“You’re seriously choosing some bitchy kook event over a party with me?” John B was still putting up a fight as JJ threw his shirt off and replaced it with a white button up.

“Stop, dude.” JJ shot John B a warning look, making him back off.

You walked into the chateau at the same time, in a pretty mid thigh length white dress that made your tan skin shine.

“Y/n, that you?” JJ called out, running into the bathroom to look for a pair of khakis. He swore he left them in there.

“Yea, it’s me. Hey, John B!” You smiled at your brunette friend when he walked out of the room.

“Thanks for stealing my friend, y/n.” His lips were in a thin line, but you knew he was kidding.

“Sorry, I just needed a date.” You shrugged your shoulders, ducking your head into the room, speaking of your date.

“Couldn’t have asked Pope?” John B’s eyes narrowed and you laughed.

JJ walked out of the room, wearing a completely different outfit than you left him in two hours ago when you went to get ready yourself. You blushed.

“Hey, ready?” You asked and he nodded, the red reaching his cheeks as well. John B watched you two, mouth wide open.

JB wanted to say something to you two, you looked like middle schoolers seeing their crush at a school dance. He knew then you guys weren’t just friends.

“Let’s go.” JJ wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you leaned into him, peaking around at John B, watching him shake his head.

That night, the two of you were standing across from the table from one another, watching each others every move.

You had already gotten pulled away three different times, random friends asking you what kind of nerve you had bringing JJ to an event like this.

You didn’t care what anyone thought, JJ was being an amazing date tonight. He was your friend just as much as they were.

JJ had a glint in his eye and you were sure you had the same look. He smiled at you and your lips curved up as well, but no words were said.

JJ had been pulled away from you by Pope and you and Kie were off in a pretty blue gazebo, when two girls passed you, sneaking words to each other about your date.

Kie was still talking to you, but when you heard his name slip out of those girls lips you tried to find his blonde hair in the crowd. You felt sparks in your fingertips when you found his eyes already staring at you. He smiled, you smiled back.

“Y/n, are you still listening?” Kie asked you, putting her hand on your shoulder, you turned to her and nodded, mumbling an apology.

Two nights later, your phone was ringing at one am. You turned over and groaned, but your heart did a flip as you read JJ’s nickname in your contacts.

“J?” Was all you said when you picked up.

“Hey, did I wake you up?” His voice was low. It gave you chills.

“No, what’s up?” Your voice was a dead giveaway that you had been asleep. JJ noted what your sleepy voice sounded like.

“Just thinking about you. Wanted to say hi.” Your stomach sunk to your feet, a smile crept up on your lips.

“Hey.” You breathed out, not sure if he had even heard you.

“Can I pick you up?” He asked you. You weren’t sure what made you say yes, but you did. Your parents would quite literally kill you if you snuck out, and if they found out you snuck out to see JJ Maybank? You might as well dig your own grave. You still said yes, though.

When driving you home that night in the Twinkie, JJ made two wrong turns towards your house.

“Whoops! Looks like we’re adding another…seven minutes to our trip. Keep telling me about your story.” JJ looked over at you, giving you a smile.

You knew JJ was doing it on purpose and you were flattered by it. He would look over at you as your hair blew in the late night wind. He thought you didn’t notice, but everytime he looked over at you, your smile got a little bit bigger.

When JJ finally pulled into your driveway, the sun was almost coming up. He put the Twinkie into park and sat back into the seat, peaking over at you.

“I had a lot of fun. I’m glad you called.” You tucked your hair behind your ear, looking back at him.

He leaned in, but didn’t make any other mood than that. “I’m glad you picked up.”

The pogues, Sarah, and you had driven up into Nags Head to a bar that John B really liked.

You had vouched to be the designated driver that night, but JJ got completely trashed.

As the six of you were walking back to your car, JJ pulled you back from the rest of the group.

“Are you okay?” You asked him when he didn’t say anything after pulling your arm.

“I gotta tell you something.” He pushed blonde hair behind his ear.

“What’s up?” You replied, heart dropping when JJ grabbed onto your hand.

“I think I love-,” JJ was cut off by your friends calling for you two to hurry up.

When you looked back at him, he dropped your hand and shook his head, starting his drunk walk back up.

He was the last stop when dropping everyone off. JJ got out of your car and walked no more than twenty steps when you turned your car off and jumped out.

“J! What were you gonna say in Nags Head?” You asked him, still quite a few feet from him.

“Nothing. Something stupid probably, I don’t really remember.” He waved it off, kicking the dirt beneath his feet.

You stood there, keys in your hand, watching him watch you. He held a guilty look on his face. In all the years you’ve known JJ, you knew when he was lying.

“I don’t believe you. What were you going to say?” You asked him again.

“Seriously, it was nothing y/n. Goodnight.” JJ really was sobering up fast. He was probably already stone cold sober.

He knew him almost confessing his love to you tonight was easily on a top fifty list of stupidest things he’s ever done.

It wasn’t too fifteen, because JJ has done some pretty stupid shit, but it was still an easy top fifty.

He wanted to tell you but he knew you didn’t love him back. He knew your parents would never approve and that you’ve been set to marry some kook business man since you were old enough to walk. He knew you didn’t love him the same way he loved you.

“Are we friends?” Your question left him confused.

“Yes?” He answered, watching you stand there next to the hood of his car.

He stood there for a few more beats, and when he turned around to walk inside, you called out.

You knew what he was going to say just a few hours before. You knew the three words that were slipping from his lips. You mustered all your courage into three words. Three stupid, silly words that might ruin your entire friendship between the two of you. You told yourself it was worth it.

“I love you, too!”

He spun around so quick he thought he was going to fall.

“I love you, too.” You said again, only this time is was more of a whisper than a shout.

You thought his smile was brighter than any star you could have pointed up to that night.

When he took four big steps towards you, you leaned up on your tippy toes to meet him, your lips forming around his.

His hands came up to your face, leaning his forehead against yours as he gave you kiss after kiss.

“I love you.” He smiled into another kiss.

…..

[allisluv]

baby i would kill for a johanna sfw abc’s (for my own inspo mostly)

A = affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection?)

johanna isn't the most outwardly affectionate person in the world, and when she is affectionate, it's through sarcastic comments. she never means it as a dig or anything, it's just the only way she knows how to express herself to the people she loves.

B = best friend (what would they be like as a best friend? how would the friendship start?)

johanna would be your number one supporter if she was your best friend. she would be the best hype woman, too. she's not afraid to tell you the truth, either, regardless of whether you want to hear it or not. i'm not sure how you would meet; it could be through the capitol if you were a victor or it could be from home back in district seven.

C = cuddles (do they like to cuddle? how would they cuddle?)

johanna likes to cuddle but she won't admit it aloud. she likes to be the big spoon and she'll drape her legs over your waist, intertwining her legs with your own.

D = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

johanna's not opposed to the idea of settling down, so long as it's with the right person. she can't cook to save her life, though, and if you want a house to come back to, it would be best to leave her out of the kitchen. she's surprisingly good at cleaning and she likes it, too. she finds it theraputic.

E = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

johanna would rip the band aid off. she doesn't see the need to drag things out, so she'll tell you the truth. she tries not to sugarcoat it because, to be honest, she's never been one to lie to spare someone's feelings.

F = fiancee (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

johanna's so used to people leaving her, so she doesn't want to jump the gun. she won't move too fast untill she knows you're sticking around for the long haul. i think she would be the one to propose, mainly because she's too headstrong and independent ro let it be any other way.

G - gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

johanna is emotionally very distant but over time and with a little bit of patience, she starts to open up. physically, she would never lay a finger on you and her touch is always gentle.

H = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

johanna isn't the biggest fan of hugs. i don't think she's huge on physical touch (excluding cuddling), full stop. when she does give hugs, its mainly because you need some comfort and she's willing to give that to you in any way possible.

I = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

again, i think johanna is terrified of good things being ripped away from her, so it takes her a while to say i love you.

J= jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?)

johanna can be a really jealous person. when she's jealous, she'll tell whoever's flirting with you to fuck off because you're taken.

K = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

johanna’s kisses are heated and passionate. she likes to kiss and be kissed on the lips.

L = little ones (how are they around children?)

johanna is the kind of woman your child picks bad words up from but she's also the kind of woman you know will go head to head with the biggest baddest man if someone so much as looks at your child the wrong way.

M= morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

mornings with johanna are spent cuddling in bed and when you do eventually drag yourselves from the comfort of your sheets, she makes breakfast (ie; coffee because she considers that a substantial substitue for food)

N = nights (how are nights spent with them?)

nights with johanna are spent with takeout food and board games (which usually end up with her flipping the table and saying "whoops" as if it wasn't because she was losing).

0 = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

although johanna isn't afraid to tell you how she feels, she's a very private person when it comes to her life before the games. it takes a while for her to open up about snow killing her family and it would happen over a longer period of time.

P = patience (how easily angered are they?)

johanna is easily angered with everyone else but when it comes to you, she's got the patience of a saint. don't get me wrong, there will be times where she has to walk away because you're pissing her off, especially if you're just as stubborn as she is, but she would never ever dream of taking her anger out on you.

Q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail or do they kind of forget everything?)

i'm gonna be honest, i think johanna has the memory of a goldfish. she forgets everything but your birthday and your anniversary dates.

R = remember (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

if you were from the capitol, johanna's favourite moment would have to be when she took you axe throwing for the first time. if you're from district seven, her favourite moment would be your first date.

S= security how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

johanna is so protective, especially because she doesn't want to lose you the same way she lost her family. casual dominance is her go-to protective move. she'll place a hand on your lower back when you're out in public, just to stake her claim.

T = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

johanna might not be the most outwardly affectionate person, but that doesn't mean she can't be a romantic at times. if she sets her mind on doing something or planning something for you, she follows through with it.

U= ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

johanna smokes when she's stressed.

V = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

johanna knows she's pretty but she couldn't care less what she looks like. she doesn't adhere to anybody's beauty standards, especially not the capitols.

W = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

johanna would rather die than live without you. after losing so many people, she doesn't think she can cope with another loss.

X = xtra (a random headcanon for them)

johanna loves doing tarot card readings

Y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn't like, whether in general or in a partner?)

johanna doesn't like bigots.

Z = zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs?)

johanna talks in her sleep

[abrunettefangirlnerd]

Hurricane Agatha

Prompt: Back in season 1 hurricane Agatha hits the Outer Banks. You are a pogue trying to enjoy your best summer with your friends. John B, Pope, and JJ (I know he didn’t in the show) decide to try surfing her waves. You’re worried about JJ because he isn’t answering his phone. You stop by his house even though you know he doesn’t like you coming over.

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

              The wind blows violently against your hair as you run towards JJ’s house. JJ normally texts you back within minutes and he always answers your calls. You know the phone towers are probably down but nothing will put your mind at ease till you know that he isn’t out running around in the storm.

“JJ,” you whisper stepping into his house. You know all about his father and the last thing you want is to piss him off.

              Walking into JJ’s room you find the bed empty and his surf board missing. Those damn boys! You think to yourself. They would rather risk their lives to get in a few waves than stay safe. You are going to kill them if the hurricane doesn’t do it first.

“Who’s here!?” JJ’s father shouts from somewhere in the house. “Don’t you dare think you can squat here through the storm!”

              Heart racing in your chest, you try to calm down and think of what to do. JJ has a window in his room but it hasn’t been opened in years. He hates using it as a route of escape because it squeaks up a storm. Though maybe the real storm will be enough to overpower its noise. You make a break for it and attempt to lift the window up enough to climb out.

              A hand wraps around your ankle and pulls you from the window. Flipping over you come face-to-face with your boyfriend’s drunk father. Due to circumstances you two have barely interacted, it’s possible he has no clue who you are. A fact that becomes very much apparent when you feel a cool sting against the side of your face. Slightly dazed, you try and recall JJ’s manic ramblings about getting the upper hand on an attacker.

You collide your free heel to the side of his knee. His grip on you loosens enough to wiggle yourself free. You forget about the window and head straight for the front door. Making your way to your car, you start it up and head the course toward the Chateau. The pain begins to subside in your cheek but his dad sure knows how to throw a punch. Luckily you don’t think he collided with your jaw, so it’s not broken. Hopefully JJ won’t be too mad that you showed up there.

Finally reaching the Chateau you see three bodies making their way back into the house. You sigh in relief seeing that they are all safe. But soon that relief is replaced with rage that they are that stupid. You march yourself up to the house and wait for them to join you.

“What the hell where you guys thinking?” You semi-shout as you hear the door open. “You could have been killed. JJ I have been looking all over for you!”

“Hey hey, babe.” JJ tries to calm you down. “We are fine, you don’t-“

              He stops mid-sentence as he takes a few steps closer. The skin around your cheek has already started to bruise over and become tender. You wince as his fingers lightly graze over your skin. Looking into his eyes you can see that his are glossed over in building tears.

“Y/N,” JJ’s voice is very low and quiet. “Did you go to my house?”

              You didn’t respond and averted your gaze, but confirming all the same. Backing away from you, JJ throws an empty beer bottle across the room and lets out a painful cry. JJ leans himself against the wall and takes deep breaths to calm down.

“Did he hurt you anywhere else?” JJ’s voice is calmer than you’d expect.

“No,” you answer immediately. “I am really sorry JJ.”

              Warm salty tears fall down your face. A sob escapes your lips as you feel a sting from your tears graze over your swollen cheek. Two sturdy arms wrap around your torso. Even when you can’t see, you know they belong to JJ. You repeat that you are sorry over and over through your sobs.

“Don’t you dare be sorry.” JJ whispers into your ear. “Please baby. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. I am so sorry.”

              JJ picks you up and carries you into the spare bedroom. You are grateful to be away from the awkward gaze of John B and Pope. You are close with both of them but you’ve always been more comfortable with JJ even before you started dating.

              He lays you down on the bed and slides next to you. Placing a kiss to your forehead, JJ tells you he will be back in a moment. As quickly as he leaves, JJ is already back with a bag of frozen peas. JJ slightly presses them to your bruised cheek. Biting your lip, you try to suppress a sob but there is no luck. It escapes pass your lips like those before but soon the cool bag begins its soothing magic.

              JJ resumes his previous position next to you on the bed and pulls your body close to his. You feel his fingers brush through the top of your hair in soothing strokes. His legs tangle with yours as he places soft kisses on the tip of your nose. You know that JJ is blaming himself for this and you hate it. This is all your fault. You should have known he would avoid home at all cost. Though you know that if you bring it up again JJ won’t listen and continue to blame himself.

“I remembered what you told me.” Your voice is so quiet as sleep begins to take over your senses. “I remembered about what you said about how to hit the knees if the ankle isn’t accessible.”

“I’m sure you did great baby,” JJ looks down at you with a lazy grin.

              You know that it will take a little while for you and JJ to come to terms about what happened tonight. From all of JJ’s injuries and stories about his father you knew the man was nothing good. Though hearing about it and experiencing it are two very different things. You managed to get away without too many hits but you know that JJ is not so lucky. It takes weeks before you stop immediately crying at the sight of any discoloration of his skin. JJ tries to tell you it barely hurts but you know that is total bullshit. Only good thing that came out of this is that JJ wants to teach you more about how to defend yourself. He always wants to be there to protect you but he knows now that won’t always be the case, and he is so proud of how well you can handle yourself.

[cal-flakes]

hii can you write an imagine with rafe and a reader that's just as psycho as him please??

okay so i also got another request about y/n protecting rafe so i’ve put these together, however i’ve put a bit of spin on it.

╰┈➤ protecting dark!rafe

warnings: mentions of lethal weapons, extreme violence, blood, homicide.

summary: y/n comes to rafe’s defence when he’s in trouble. (obx2 spoilers! sort of)

the grunts and groans of a struggle echoed through the dark forest of goat island, overriding her senses as she crept through the wailing trees.

she’d parked her car quite far out in hopes rafe wouldn’t see her, she’d intended to undermine his plans, take the cross for herself, but it seemed two people now stood in her way.

coming out of the camouflage of the thick woods, she tip toed around the side of the truck. her gloved fingertips just grasping the handle of her hunting knife while she went over the new plan in her head.

peaking around the side, she took in the scene before her, the strange man had rafe pinned to the ground, throwing punch after punch.

she’d never seen him before and it made her wonder who else was looking for the cross of santo domingo.

taking the opportunity, she lunged at him, plunging the blade deep into his thigh as he let out a cry of pain.

stumbling backwards, he landed into the mud with a groan as he stared down at the wound in horror.

before he had the chance to work out whether it was blood or dirt he was covered in, a gunshot filled the area, birds squeaking as they flew away.

rafe looked at the man on the floor, glancing between him and the gun in her hand, making the connection. it was obvious who shot him, but he just couldn’t fathom it.

a girl he had fallen for, killing a man in cold blood, right in front of him?

she stepped over his limp body, taunting him with a grin on her face. her pupils were blown and her hands trembled slightly as she looked over the man for any sign of life.

satisfied with his lack of pulse, she turned to rafe who was frozen on the floor, unsure of what just happened.

“give me your hand” she demanded, the numbness of her voice almost giving him chills. nodding in thanks, he reached up expectantly while his chest heaved.

in the blink of an eye, she’d put the safety on and flipped the gun around, slipping the handle into his shaky hands.

his breath hitched as she gently grasped his bare fingertips, squeezing them around the weapon.

“wh-what..” he gasped, breathless and shaken. she chuckled, shaking her head at his stupidity.

his heart could’ve exploded then and there, the feeling of betrayal coursing through him as he stared back at someone he thought he knew.

“im gonna make you a deal rafe, and you’ve got two options. you give me what i want, or..i give old shoupe a call, tell him i’ve got the gun you used on our friend here” she smirked, a menacing look dancing through her wide eyes.

“b-but that didn’t happen, that’ll never work y/n and you know it” he growled, gritting his teeth.

she tilted her head in amusement, leaning down. “oh but wouldn’t it? i was the worried girlfriend, following you to find out where you were going, only to find you blowing this poor man’s brains out” she stated proudly, inciting an angry sigh from the boy below her.

“and i was just, so scared, so i kept the gun, making sure i had something to protect me if you ever tried to come for me too..”

“you used me..” he muttered, staring into her eyes in hopes something familiar would return. “you waited until i’d done all the hard work huh? thought you’d swoop in, take the cross for yourself?” he snapped, attempting to lunge at her.

his reach was limited however, as she placed her dirty boot on his chest, pushing him further into the ground. “oh baby boy, that’s exactly what i’ve done..” she uttered, blowing him a kiss before sending a sharp kick to his jaw.

“you should be thanking me really, i just saved your life..but i suppose you’ve always been an ungrateful dick huh?”

she rounded the truck once more and got in the drivers side, leaving rafe in the mud, writhing in pain and hurt.

[greenninjagal-blog]

With An Enemy Like You (Who Needs A Lover?)

:) New fic? New Fic.

Summary: Virgil is an FBI agent. Janus is a Mob Prince. Fifteen years ago they were boyfriends.

Words: 9521

Read on Ao3 || Listen to the Podfic || My General Writing Masterlist

To Roman’s credit, he does try to stop Virgil.

It’s almost impressive how quickly Roman catches on. There are so many things already happening around him that even Virgil feels a bit overwhelmed—twenty four tables in the vicinity have unobstructed vision on the VIP table in the middle where the target was sitting, meaning that there were forty eight people with possibly concealed weapons ready to kill whoever walked up to the table; the waiters were attentive and quick moving, so fast it was a miracle they hadn’t bumped into each other and it would take two people dedicatedly watching their hands every second to make sure nothing surprising made it into the food; the grand floor-to-ceiling windows were freshly cleaned and any possible snipers would have perfect views as they sat and waited in their perches in the high rises surrounding the restaurant; Logan is purposely sitting himself across from the target who might at any moment reveal a new method of murder, they couldn’t have possibly accounted for—and yet Roman’s eyes snap right to Virgil when he walks in and he’s standing before Virgil makes it halfway across the open floor.

Roman is a good agent. He’s an excellent actor too. Virgil’s always been privately starstruck by how easily Roman’s good-natured optimism can flip on and off like a switch. One moment he’s an upstanding FBI agent who will always fight to protect people, the next he’s the scheming, skeevy fencer (or forger, or drug supplier, or, or, or) that they need for undercover work. He’s good at everything he tries, and excellent at things he practices.

Virgil thinks it might be a shame that Roman practiced being Virgil’s Friend.

Because Virgil is halfway across the floor and Roman’s calling out to him and everything is moving too fast.

Roman’s fake date, Missy, is complaining about something both mundane and made up, there’s a waiter taking orders for the table next to the target, the woman at the table in the corner has a laugh that sounds like a tea kettle whistling, a man in a business meeting keeps checking his watch and the clock face keeps catching the fading sunlight almost in a pattern, a waitress in the back is carrying a tray of waters to the far side of the room, there’s a sommelier giving a rundown of the wine list to a couple, Logan is asking the target what his goal is. Voices keep bouncing off the walls, the chandeliers sway nearly unnoticeable overhead, there’s a chill in the air that makes everything feel like porcelain against his skin. The fabric of Virgil’s suit is tugging against his frame, and Roman is standing up, and Roman’s wine is all over Missy’s $500 dress, and Missy is swearing in the most unladylike fashion, and Virgil draws his gun and puts it to the back of the target’s head.

And, just like that, everything is completely still.

Even Logan, who’d been in the middle of a sentence cut himself off completely, his eyes piercing into Virgil with a bewildered expression that’s quickly morphing into one of fury as the situation clicks into steady place. There might even be a layer of worry buried underneath, but Virgil can’t bring himself to meet his gaze. Logan would want to see an apology in Virgil’s countenance, or an explanation for why Virgil went directly against his orders, or proof that Virgil holding a gun at the target is just a mass hallucination.

And Virgil has none of that to give him.

“….And you said he wouldn’t be joining me this evening,” the target says. The sudden oppressive silence makes his languid tone spill across the spacious floor, unhurried and as saccharine as honey. “Truly, Special Agent Ackroyd, I feel as though you don’t know the members of your own team quiet well enough.”

If Virgil were a better agent, he would have been listening to the coms, planning this to be as inoffensive as possible to his own team. If Virgil had been a better employee—a better team player, a better subordinate—he would have taken a double dose of a sleeping pill and spent tonight conked out of his mind rather than come here.

If Virgil were a better person, then the safety would have been slightly harder to switch off.

He wonders for a moment if the cameras can pick up on the way his hands shake, the barely perceptible tremble that comes from facing something he’s been running from for fifteen years.

Patton, after all, has control of the cameras and he’s as close to an expert on body language as a human being can get. He would know in a second, if he didn’t already, the reason why Virgil had to come—why no amount of bluffing would work on the target, why no order from his superiors would be enough to keep Virgil from showing up, why Patton’s only chance to stop him had been to tackle him in the parking lot.

Virgil had enjoyed his first two years on the team, this team, their team. He’d never go so far as to admit that they were friends—Virgil was particular and picky about putting a label on people these days—but he’d gone out to drinks with them more often than not. He knew Roman’s coffee order, practiced perfect grammar in his written reports for Logan, helped Patton with a volunteer event on one of his precious days off. He’d even picked up drunk-off-his-ass Remus from a bar after his uber canceled and brought Missy ice cream on the anniversary of her dad’s death. Virgil was prickly at best, but the others weathered his quiet, unfriendly aura and in turn he did his best to curb the worst of his habits and pretend to be a functional human.

They tracked down killers across the country, put a stop to serial arsonists, and reunited families with their kidnapped loved ones. They cracked a human trafficking ring, shut down Bonnie-and-Clyde bank robbers, solved nine different cold cases that brought closure to hundreds of people. They were doing good.

Then one case had a link back to another. A name from the guest list at a previous crime showed up on the witness list for another completely different one. People in the background of security photos started to look familiar.

Then, suddenly, every case had started to weave together, as though someone was pulling on strings and making puppets dance in front of them. Evidence appeared and disappeared at just the right time; key witnesses withdrew statements or provided airtight alibis; large sums of money and dozens of text messages to burner phones linked back to no one at all. Logan had even gotten pressured by his superior to drop a lead and let a prime suspect go.

Half a year ago a criminal had chosen suicide by cop instead of talking to them, several CEOs had gone tight lipped and grey in the face of questioning, and a politician had even been found hanging in his cell less than twenty minutes after requesting a meeting with Virgil’s team’s lead after they caught him involved in an arms smuggling operation.

Someone had started messing with the FBI, and Virgil’s team specifically. Virgil couldn’t even confidently say that they had closed cases themselves anymore, because it only ever seemed that someone let them find the clues left behind. It didn’t matter how far away their cases had ended up being: Virgil couldn’t shake the feeling of being whispered about behind his back.

It felt familiar in all the worst ways.

Then the card invitation had appeared on Virgil’s desk, waiting oh-so-innocently for them to arrive back from their latest finished case, resting on top of the unfinished reports he’d been behind in finishing. The sight of it had drawn him to a stop so suddenly that it had immediately alerted Roman to something being wrong.

The cameras were down, security said, scratching their heads. Scheduled update.

Patton had insisted on sending the card for fingerprinting, even though it would come back clean of prints besides Virgil’s impulsive ones. The cream cardstock was unassuming and unoffensive, the font in black cursive, the border done in a delicate gold foil which shimmered in the office lights as Virgil’s hands shook.

Simple and to-the-point, as if the sender was paying for each word and was short on money: a time and a place. They hadn’t even left a signature. Just a simple “See You There”. Virgil should have crumpled it and thrown it away and done his reports.

Team Lead Logan Ackroyd, obviously, hadn’t wanted Virgil anywhere near this. Glaringly apparent trap aside, Logan had more than enough common sense to see that Virgil hadn’t been on his A-game, or even his B-game, for a noticeable amount of time. While Virgil’s quick reactions in the FBI academy training tests were still record holding, the lingering feeling of being watched and played with had caused Virgil’s distraction twice in the previous mission, and the second time had ended with a bomb getting set off.

But Patton had pointed out that missing an appointment might cause the perpetrator to use more drastic means to contact them. They’d all been aware that someone was setting them up, that money was being exchanged between hands, and shadowy people were making decisions like Virgil’s team were just number statistics instead of living breathing people. If this was their mysterious puppet master reaching out about the shit show of their last mission, then they wanted to be heard and they would keep trying.

And next time they likely wouldn’t be as nice as to give them the option to ignore them.

The threat of the sender showing up at one of their homes when they were alone and off duty was enough for Logan to relent on skipping the invitation all together. The danger they could face together would undoubtedly be safer than the danger they’d have to face alone, but under no circumstances was Virgil allowed to be on the confrontation team; he could have a seat in in the offices finishing up reports or head home with an escort to watch his house all night, but Special Agent Virgil Storm was not to be anywhere close to this location.

Virgil hadn’t said anything as the others decided this.

He couldn’t have said anything as the others decided this.

Every time he opened his mouth it felt like there was sand slipping down his throat, turning his lungs into an hourglass he couldn’t stop. If he’d spoken up, they would have demanded to know why he hadn’t before. Virgil hadn’t been able to come up with a reason—even the most comical take on it all would have been treated seriously by his team, but the words wouldn’t come and now it had turned into him needing an excuse. Virgil had nothing. He didn’t even have an apology to offer Remus.

So, the entire world is horribly silent, and Virgil stands with his gun pointed at the back of the head of the man who was going to wreck his entire life again and wonders why he hasn’t pulled the trigger.

Black suit, Italian silk, two button jacket—Virgil knows the cut from the endless hours of complaining that Roman’s done over magazines instead of doing his reports. His team hadn’t known who they were looking for walking in, but the sheer amount of wealth and prestige dripping from him is exactly enough to tell them that this man is their puppet master; the snake cufflinks with actual diamonds in them are just consolation prizes in case the family name escaped them. His posture is the perfect blend of casual and elegant: he’s sitting at the table with his legs crossed comfortably, and lounging in the way that only rich people could at an establishment where water costs more than a month’s worth of work.

Case in point: Logan is across from him, ramrod stiff and face paled, his plate empty and his silverware untouched, and not even a fingerprint on the water glass to show he moved it out of the way for him to sit. His suit was a business suit, something to wear at the office with enough give to make it practical if a sudden firefight broke out. At an establishment like this, he looked tacky rather than professional, and it was likely plucking at Logan’s irritation nearly as much as the entire situation was.

Behind both of them, past the tables of horrified guests who all froze at the sight of a gun and the wait staff that had been caught unprepared for such audacity, the floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city and provide an excellent view of the setting sun in Virgil’s face. But Virgil can understand an attempted metaphor when he sees one: as Virgil walked up, he was forced to see the dying sun rays crafting a halo around the target’s head. Even now, it’s nearly painting worthy, and Virgil struggles not to counter with “blood on the white short stemmed rose centerpiece”.

The target has a wine glass in his hand, gently swirling a half-cup of white wine before he brings it to his lips, unbothered by the threat less than an inch from him.

“Hello Special Agent Virgil Storm,” the man says without turning around, barely a head tilt to acknowledge what had the rest of the building suspended in time.

Virgil isn’t exactly surprised that he knows who it is. Virgil hadn’t made any noise as he walked up, his footsteps as silent as every trained agent knows to be in the middle of a mission—even his breathes had been far and few on account of the crushing weight of what he might find waiting at the table for him. The target’s attention had been completely focused on insulting Logan for attempting to trigger a trap that hadn’t been set for him.

But as far as Virgil’s aware, there’s only been one idiot big enough to point a gun at him in his entire life.

There might have been hidden cameras in the lobby, which pinged when the algorithm recognized Virgil walk onto the scene. Or he might have felt the subtle shift of the air when the door had been opened and known that Virgil had decided to accept the invitation left for him regardless of how stupid it was. Or maybe he heard the half shout that Roman had made before he realized it was already too late and felt the relief that his dolls still danced when he commanded it. Or maybe he noticed Logan’s eyes over his shoulder, catching sight of Virgil walking up after he’d been told explicitly to not come, and realized there was only one person who could cause his superior such horror and fury at one moment.

Faintly, Virgil hears his team over the coms, buzz, buzz, buzzing. Each of their voices blurs into one another: he thinks Roman curses at him for being stupid, Missy snaps that Virgil owes him a dress, so he better not die, Patton orders him to hold on a moment because that man is extremely dangerous—

But Virgil doesn’t need that to hear that. He’s known that for a long time.

"Janus," Virgil says darkly.

The man hums in a self-assured, pleased way. “You’re late, you know. I thought you were going to stand me up!”

“The only time I plan on arriving early for you is for your fucking funeral.”

"My, my, such hostilities!" Janus says, tilting his head slightly to look over his shoulder and grace Virgil with part of his smirk, a flicker of those brown-grey eyes alight with mischief, playful and kind and a lie. "What have I done to deserve this?"

Virgil doesn’t rise to the bait. "Why did you ask me here?"

"Is it not enough to just want to see the charming face of an esteemed FBI special agent?" Janus says smoothly. He shifts his weight ever so slightly, swirling his glass in hypnotizing circles. Virgil’s seen the move a thousand times before: with alcohol in a red plastic cup from a drink table he bought, with soda from a plastic bottle from a vending machine, with milk in the cartoons from the school lunches. The graceful elegance of the motion is part of the trick—just like everything else about him.

Virgil says, "If your next words are "please help me Virgil, I'm being framed!" I’m going to make them your last words entirely."

“Virgil,” Logan hisses out. “He’s not—"

Janus laughs, because of course he does. Because he’s an asshole and a bastard and a criminal and everything Virgil hates. "I would never waste your time like that!"

And then he turns around, fully, casually, smoothly, and Time itself stops entirely.

Because it’s Janus. At the end of it all, it’s still Janus. His blond hair is still gelled back in that ridiculous hairstyle he decided on in high school with a whole two strands of hair free to bounce over his forehead, his eyes are still dual colored and sparkling like cider and there are still crinkles by them from the way he’s perpetually laughing at an inside joke, his lips are still thin and pink and inviting, hiding his picture-perfect politician’s smile.

Virgil’s traitorous heart still jumps right into his throat.

“Aw, did you miss me?” Janus asks, “Darling.”                   

“Hardly,” Virgil says honestly and means it.

“Oh, ouch. My feelings are hurt.”

“Good. Are we done here?”

“Why are you in such a rush?” Janus asks. “Slow down. Sit down. Have a glass of wine—on me, of course, I know what the government pays even its most celebratedagents—you’re too tense.”

Virgil almost wants to laugh at the absurdity. His finger is poised over the trigger and one accident away from never having to meet Janus’s gaze again. But Janus smiles with all the warmth of an old friend, inviting and alluring, leaning forward on the chair back to nearly press his head to the barrel. As though Janus Ekans, the mob prince, would be delighted to have Virgil’s face be the last thing he sees.

“I see you haven’t changed one bit,” Janus says fondly. “All work and no play.”

As though he hadn’t been avoiding Virgil as much as Virgil had been avoiding him.

“I don’t play with racketeers.”

And the smug smile on Janus’s face is nearly enough for Virgil to lose his tightly wound composure entirely. The flash of perfect teeth, the flick of his tongue wetting over his shiny lip-glossed lips, before he indulges in another sip of his wine pretending like he doesn’t want Virgil to watch the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows.

“See, I would believe that, Virgil,” Janus says, eyeing the swish-swish of his wine. “But cleaning expenses of my first Lexus say otherwise.”

Somewhere behind him, Virgil hears Roman’s voice choking on a creative take of religious figures. Logan’s gaze snaps up to Virgil’s expression, searching, searching, searching for something to disprove Janus’s words. Patton’s voice whispers in his ear about how that can’t possibly be right, Virgil, that’s not true, is it? You would have told us that you were in cahoots with someone on the FBI’s watchlist, right?

((It was an Audi RS7 and Virgil hates that he can remember, that for a split second he can feel of those leather seats on his bare skin, that he can smell the vanilla air freshener that Janus had his cleaners use, that it’s on the tip of his tongue to correct him, and Janus is smirking at him because he wants Virgil to correct him and prove he hadn’t been able to forget Janus at all.))

“What a terrifying look on your face,” Janus says, conversationally, resting against the back of his chair. “One would think that I took something from you that you hadn’t been absolutely desperate to give me! How vile!”

“I’m surprised you remember anything from those days,” Virgil says. “Considering you spent them so drunk the only way you knew you were in a school building was when someone was telling you to dump out your water bottle of vodka.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Janus says defensively.

If Virgil wasn’t staring him in the face, he wouldn’t have even seen the twitch of his lips as he fumbles the attempt to appear unphased. The pink flush over his cheeks wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone else, but Virgil could be blind and still know he’d pre-gamed.

“You’re not even sober right now.”

“We all have our vices,” Janus counters, but the warmth of his tone is tepid at best. “Or are you telling me that you would have managed to walk in the doors unarmed even if your team had already reported my corpse, Virge? Do I scare you that much still? I have no weapons on me, and I’ve brought no bodyguards here, and yet you can’t shake the feeling I’m a threat.”

Because you are. Virgil almost says it. Who can look at him, at his pristine clothes, his friendly smile, his mischievous eyes—who can hear his amiable tone and candied words and honeyed whispers– who can go to a magic show and not expect to be duped in some way?

Virgil’s seen him at his worst: blood on his immaculate clothes, and his friendly smile a bit too wild and a bit too sadistic, and his mischievous eyes violent with fury. Virgil heard his tone icy cold and Virgil’s tasted the poison under those sugarcoated words and then he’s heard that tongue of his drip out honeyed whispers as though he hadn’t murdered someone right in front of Virgil.

((Self-defense from a violent mugging, the police called it. Virgil hadn’t been brave enough to ask if they were in Janus’s pockets before or if that was the first time those officers had had the pleasure of meeting the Ekans family heir.))

“Sit down and have dinner with me, Virgil,” Janus says with the same mouth that once tried to tell him that was an accident. “You won’t like what happens to your team if you don’t.”

Logan bristles, and Virgil falls just short of reacting to it. Janus, of course, knows all the buttons to push, all the levers to twist, all the ways to make Virgil so fucking angry that he lets Janus have control of the conversation.

“How many times did you use me as an alibi?” Virgil asks instead. “Was it every date, Janus? Was every time you invited me out just an excuse to check up on your slowly building empire? What will I be questioned about this time? A bank robbery? A weapons exchange? Or the classic physical assault on someone who didn’t pay you back in time?”

“Why do you always assume the worst of me?”

“I haven’t been wrong in fifteen years,” Virgil says.

Janus pouts.

His glass swirls again, gentle and careful, and Virgil spares a thought to what year he was drinking from: did he just pull the most expensive one he saw? Or did he choose a specific year as if he could transport himself back in time with a taste and wake up before Virgil realized exactly why the police kept such a close eye on his boyfriend? If Virgil took his stupid glass and poured it over Janus’s head, would it feel like they were still those kids?

On his worst nights, Virgil wishes he were seventeen again. He wishes that he could have had something real. He wishes that Janus had wished for him.

“You should see a therapist for those trust issues,” Janus decides.

“Every other Tuesday,” Virgil says, because even though its none of his fucking business, Virgil wants to see the shutter of emotion in Janus’s eyes: proof that he can feel something other than confidence and greed, proof that maybe he’s changed, proof that maybe somewhere, somehow Janus Ekans might feel guilty.

But for that to happen, Janus Ekans would have needed to be human and not the personification of a tsunami.

“You get fifteen minutes,” Virgil says even though he shouldn’t. He’s already given him these past five minutes, already given him the satisfaction of seeing Virgil show up like a dog that still responds to the call of an owner that left him at the dog park years ago, already given him all that Virgil had to give and Janus shouldn’t get to ask for anything more. “You get fifteen minutes, and then you get out of my life entirely, Janus, and do not come back.”

“Do you get off on bossing me around?” Janus asks indigently. “This isn’t a food court! I can’t have a four-course meal in fifteen minutes, Virgil! My hors d’oeuvres haven’t even arrived yet!”

It truly sounds like something that is not Virgil’s problem. Janus splutters another two times before he begrudgingly checks his gold-plated watch. He takes just long enough to utter something extremely foul in Italian about Virgil’s mother, then he waves to the nearest waiter and snaps twice.

Immediately, the rest of the room falls back into the steady flow of everything. If Virgil closes his eyes, he’d be swept away in it all: the voices resuming their conversations, the waiters moving around like buzzing bees, the clink of forks on plates and food being eaten. There’s a pause but then the conversation picks up again, an uncanny impression that everyone in the building was part of a script and they’d walked in on the scene. If someone spliced the video footage, it would appear near seamlessly, almost as if nothing had ever happened, aside from Virgil now standing out of place in the middle of the room.

But, of course, it’s the magic of being around Janus Ekans: an illusion that the whole world revolves around him, that the laws of physics would change for him, and he could change them for you too, if you asked. There’s something tantalizing about being able to hold his gaze: it made sixteen-year-old Virgil feel special, unique, and powerful. There’s something addictive about being in love with disaster; something that made him feel like he could do anything in the world that he set his sight to.

But in the end Janus Ekans is just a man, and the acts of pure magic is just money greasing the right hands at the right moment. Virgil glanced behind the curtain and saw too much, and God is dead because Janus stabbed Them fifteen times in the chest when they were still seventeen.

Janus turns back around in his chair, elegantly graceful in the way that he ignores Virgil clicking the safety for his gun back on: as if it was never really a concern that Virgil might go back on his word, as if he never really considered that the gun was a threat, as if he was as immortal as he was immoral and it didn’t matter if Virgil shot him at all. Virgil’s breath stalls in his chest, warmed by the fiery fury that only Janus can draw out of him.

“You can go,” Janus says to Logan, as though Logan were not Virgil’s direct superior and capable of arresting them both at this very moment. Janus, of course, would be out in mere minutes, probably before Logan would be able to handcuff him, but Virgil would more than likely be seeing a night in a holding cell if he were lucky.

Logan’s eyes flick between them. Virgil feels them tracing over him, cataloguing all the things wrong with him. None of his team has seen Virgil dressed in a suit that fits him, never seen Virgil with his hair pulled back into a ponytail, or the bags under his eyes covered up with concealer. No one has ever seen Virgil look like a function human being, and definitely never even seen him try. He looks like a stranger wearing his own face; like a friend possessed by something no one else understands yet.

Remus would have loved to see photos of this, Virgil’s sure. But Logan’s frown just increases with every second Virgil refuses to meet his gaze.

Then, finally, Logan says, “I’d prefer to stay.”

That’s his leading tone, Virgil recognizes. His play-along tone. His we are going to trick this man right now and disarm the threat tone. Virgil remembers getting caught in a bank robbery while investigating a series of white-collar crimes and Logan used that tone to hint to Virgil what they needed to do to get the robbers to drop their guard, save the hostages, and get out alive.

But now it makes something awful twist in Virgil’s lungs for reasons that Virgil refuses to admit.

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Special Agent Ackroyd,” Janus says.

“I didn’t take it as one.”

Janus sneers, because he’s a child, and throwing tantrums is the easiest way to get what he wants.

“If he wanted me dead, he’d already would have done it,” Virgil says, and Logan’s gaze hardens just a bit more when he knows that Virgil won’t follow his lead and let him stay. He feels numb all over, as though Janus’s snake-like admiration had slowly been turning him to stone, but that’s fine.

Stone makes for good walls after all, and Virgil’s been throwing himself in front of his teammates since day one. How could this possibly be any different?

He remembers Logan discussing the plan, yesterday, when he was sitting blankly at his desk while the others talked around him: no more part of the conversation than the chair he was sitting on. He remembers hearing Logan tell them that he would be the one that would take over role that Virgil was meant to play, that Logan would meet their mysterious puppet master and risk walking himself directly into the crosshairs of a sniper’s rifle, that he would rather be the one that got shot than to give their caller the satisfaction of seeing Virgil come.

 “The invitation was for me, anyway,” Virgil says. “He wouldn’t kill someone he invited out.”

And you weren’t invited out, goes unsaid between them. Although Virgil hears Patton’s sharp breath in his ear and Roman mumbles a prayer, he guesses that everyone hears it anyway.

Janus hums again. “That would be bad manners, of course. To kill my guest. Not to mention my favorite FBI agent.”

Virgil tries not to imagine breaking Janus’s very snappable neck. “Trust me,” He grits out. “Logan, just this one last time. I will be okay.”

“Outside of your impending dismissal from the FBI in sixteen minutes, for this…theatrical performance.” Janus offers a conceited smile, leaning forward. “You know, I happen to be looking for a bodyguard—”

“Eat a cock.”

“At least consider it before you deny me!” Janus complains, swirling his wine another time before raising it to his lips.

But right as he tilts the glass, Virgil wrenches it from his hand, ignoring the startled noise that comes out of Janus’s mouth. The wine sloshes around the rim, pale and floral smelling, and it’s still chilled when the droplets drip over Virgil’s hand but he barely recognizes it because then suddenly Virgil is meeting his superior’s gaze head on.

Two years of missions had to be enough, Virgil thinks. It had to be enough to buy him just these fifteen minutes of trust. Virgil who’d never disobeyed, who’d never questioned, who’d done everything for the sake of his team, his friends, his family, better me in the crosshairs than them—

Logan’s eyes are glacier blue, nearly unnatural with the strength of the color. Virgil had seen these eyes pin a suspect in place, nearly scientific in the way that they dissect motives and crime scenes, and yet the ruthlessness still pierces through Virgil. He’s searching for something in Virgil, peeling him apart like an onion.

“Your gun,” Logan says, through gritted teeth, sounding very much like he’d rather get open heart surgery without being put under than allow this.

Virgil swallows down the appreciation, because Logan hates everything to do with gratefulness when his agents are intentionally throwing themselves into danger. His hands tremble as he twists his handgun and offers the handle to his superior. For a moment Virgil’s tongue wants to scream, the words just shoot me clog his throat, and his lungs shudder with the excess air.

Then Logan is holding Virgil’s gun and Janus’s wine and there’s nothing left for either of them to hide behind.

Roman is saying something, but he sounds far away and small, and it makes his worries sound inconsequential. Logan waits another moment, as though Virgil might beg him to stay, but Janus clicks his tongue impatiently as he adjusts his cuffs.

“My fifteen minutes will not start until Special Agent Logan Ackroyd removes his eyesore of a person from my line of vision,” he says. “Go join Prince Charming at the front table and tell him to sit. Both of you look like fools. He at least should be ashamed: ruining that poor girl’s dress with paint thinner like that!”

Virgil’s tongue rolls over his teeth, nearly hard enough to cut. Logan’s vision snaps to Janus, cold and cool and promising a lethal action in Janus’s immediate future. But Janus smiles in a daring way, taunting and bright and Virgil remembers being seventeen and at the movies and on a date and the police just so happen to ask what the two of them are doing.

Virgil hadn’t understood back then what that smile meant.

“And tell your friend that I’ll pay for her dress as well,” Janus adds, over his shoulder, to Logan’s retreating back, as though he found an immense pleasure in treating a high ranking, highly honored FBI agent as an errand boy. “It’s always a shame to see a Duvall original ruined, don’t you think?”

Virgil yanks out the chair and places himself across from Janus and the mob prince raises a challenging eyebrow at him. Despite knowing that Roman and Logan are less than twenty feet away and Virgil can see them, that Missy could disarm a dozen gang members by herself, that Patton’s watching on the cameras, that he has a comm in his ear still so that he’ll know the moment any of them get hurt, Virgil still feels like he’s the safest fucking person on the planet.

Because for a moment he’s sitting across from Janus at a diner and he’s purposely kicking his feet into Janus’s and stealing fries off his plate and Janus’s voice is the prettiest sound he’s ever heard—Virgil blinks and fifteen years haven’t occurred and he’s still in love with his best friend and believes in magic and the world turns in the slow, lethargic way that makes it feel like they’ll live for forever, staying just like that.

And Virgil hates it.

He snaps out and picks up the menu left for him. “If you’re being so damn generous with your blood money, are you going to pay Remus’s medical bills, too?”

“Already done,” Janus waves him off. “I even sent a fruit basket to him. Although at his age he should have known not to get that close to a bomb. It was clearly labeled and everything.”

Far, far away, Roman is still standing, one hand on the back of his seat, that’s suddenly gone white knuckled at the careless words thrown in the air, and Logan’s gait has frozen mid step as he spins to pin Virgil with a swiftly approaching realization of why Virgil has been incredibly distracted during the past mission.

Virgil swallows down the urge to swear about it, to call Janus all the horrible, awful things he wanted to shout when the bomb had first gone off, to ask Janus why he didn’t call or write or even show up at Virgil’s house to get his attention; to ask why Janus had set a trap to kill his team before he could show his face here. His fingers pick at the professional menu cover because if he doesn’t do something with his hands they’ll reach across the table and strangle the blasé expression right off Janus’s face.

“I…” Janus says, and then hesitates mulling over his words. It’s a strange thing to witness: a moment of uncertainty in the man that Virgil once thought the world revolved around. Janus’s fingers dance on the table where his wine glass would have been, tracing the blank space as though it were a precious distant memory. “I really am sorry about that one. That sort of thing will not be happening again. He’s one of my favorites.”

The menu creaks under Virgil’s fingers. “Stay away from them.”

“I cannot.”

Virgil’s head snaps up to glare at him, but Janus is already looking at him. There’s a seriousness in his eyes that Virgil doesn’t care for: they don’t glitter the way they’re supposed to, like gemstones that have lost their luster, like gold that’s been tarnished, like diamonds that no longer glimmer in the spotlight. The shining illusion of his carefree nature melted away, but somehow it makes Virgil feel off-kilter.

Virgil’s seen every side of him there is to see, every inch of him there is to see. Fifteen years can’t possibly make him a stranger when Virgil’s second beer always tastes like cheap Miller Lites at a pool party and Janus’s lips on his own.

But who is Janus when he’s not pretending to be human? When he’s not hiding behind an illusion? When the games are over, and the molasses passage of time is suddenly out of control and Virgil is not seventeen, but he still remembers sitting on the cold sidewalk staring at Janus tearing his switchblade out of the corpse for the third time?

Who is Janus at all?

“As much as I would have loved to have called you out here for a date,” Janus says, “and as much as you have arrived looking the part—thank you for that by the way. Ackroyd is an embarrassment to have been seen with. An oriental knot? Does he think this is prom?— I’ve done all this to...request the help of the FBI. Off the books.”

The laugh startles its way out of Virgil’s throat, acrid and vile. When he breathes in, his nostrils are filled with the scent of smoke and burning flesh, and his mouth tastes like the ashes of the building that came down on Remus because Virgil hadn’t been quick enough piecing together that he was walking into a trap even though Virgil had been looking for it.

If Remus hadn’t been the luckiest son of a bitch that Virgil had ever meant, he’d be attending a funeral right now. He’d be wearing this suit to a cemetery to bury the same guy poured a fresh cup of coffee over the FBI agent who’d straight up insulted Virgil to his face on his first day, the same guy who’d invited himself over and spent the night at Virgil’s so he wouldn’t be alone after the first time he had to kill someone to save a hostage, the same guy who jokingly said what’s the worst thing that could be behind this door? right before he’d gotten blown up. If Remus wasn’t in a hospital being cared for by the best doctors, Virgil would be across the table and his knife would be in Janus’s jugular for putting the bomb there.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Virgil says, damn near giddy. “No- please, Jay, really? This was the best you could come up with? Remus is in the fucking hospital in a medically induced coma because you turned him into a life-sized jigsaw puzzle, and you expect that any of us would be willing to help you?”

Janus’s expression doesn’t change. “It wasn’t meant for him.”

As if that made it alright. As if that made it better.

As if Virgil hadn’t felt that icy cold douse of fear when he recognized the set up and shouted for Remus to stop, and had his words drowned out by the explosion. And if it was that bad for Virgil, he can barely imagine how bad it was for Roman to hear his twin brother’s laughter cut off like that. He can hear Roman through the comm in his ear now: his breathing suddenly shaky and dangerous in all the ways that an actor’s breath should not be.

Virgil doesn’t dare meet his eyes across the floor.

“Allow me to speak on behalf of the FBI, Janus,” Virgil says. “Go fuck yourself.”

Janus’s fingernail scratches the tablecloth. “I thought that having a good friend in such a high place would make me eligible for a favor.”

“I hope to fuck you aren’t talking about me.”

“I would simply adore spending the rest of our thirteen minutes going back and forth, but—”

Virgil is almost disappointed that a waiter appears at the same moment, and Janus’s myriad of excuses evaporates. Instead, Janus’s eyes stay locked onto Virgil, ignoring the presence of the waiter entirely even as he places a plate in front of each of them with bruschetta. The silence holds over them both for an extra second as the waiter wordlessly offers a head bow to Janus and takes his leave again.

But instead of continuing, Janus takes his time to roll out his silverware to lay the napkin on his lap, as if he was worried about ruining the suit when he could buy an entire warehouse of the same suit with just his pocket change. Virgil catalogues the way his shoulders slope, the fine lines of his suit crafting a silhouette that takes a breath, two, three, and contemplates how exactly to manipulate Virgil.

Virgil reaches across the table, sliding a hand carefully under Janus’s lukewarm plate and lifting it. Janus watches him boredly as he exchanges their plates, but otherwise doesn’t make a move to stop him.

“Oh dear,” he says sarcastically. “My crafty attempt to poison you. It failed. Whatever will I do, Virgil?”

Virgil ignores him. “You have enough money to have greased the hands of anyone. You could have a dozen teams at your beck and call, Janus. You could have done this over a phone call, or a letter, or a fucking fax. With your connections you could have gotten the president’s guard to be your secretaries. But you threw together this whole charade and made sure that only my team was here tonight. And since I don’t hear a fucking apology, it’s gotta be something else. So, what’s the angle? Why my team? Why me?”

“Would you even believe an apology from me?” Janus muses, resting his chin on his palm. “You don’t have a decent track record for that.”

The air sizzles between them, simmering with all the contempt that Virgil can manage to convey in a glare. His left hand is resting on the table, his right on his hip where his empty concealed holster rests, and Virgil’s chest is burning with a thousand suns and the waiter is refilling waters at the table to their left and the man in the corner is discussing finances for a company buy out and Patton mentions that another man is going to the restroom and Logan forces Roman to sit down and one of the tomatoes on the bruschetta slips off the bread in front of Virgil.

“Perhaps because your team is the only one that can’t be bought?” Janus suggests, finally as though he’d given up information he hadn’t meant to. “I like a stable investment, Virgil. If your team leader won’t accept money from me, I definitely don’t have to worry about him taking money from other less savory people either.”

“Right. Because there are so many people running around with your kind of money,” Virgil says.

Janus doesn’t respond.

He’s calm. Nearly too calm. And Virgil recognizes the wash of panic through him, suddenly, from that night fifteen years ago in the seconds before Janus’s switchblade had found its way into that man’s chest cavity.

“Janus.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said that the bomb wasn’t meant for Remus. It was not meant for your team at all. As far as I was aware your team had no reason to be at that location.”

“We got a tip,” Virgil says. “Are you saying that the call didn’t come from you?”

There’s a flicker of anger in his eyes, Virgil notes. His hand on the table is paralyzingly still as though he’s holding himself back from striking. The room around them is cavernous and suffocating all at once and Virgil can’t quite remember if breathing was supposed to be a manual action or not.

“It appears as though I have a…. business competitor,” Janus announces, “Who seems to think themselves my rival. Adorable, really. I entertained their shadow business endeavors at the beginning, allowing them to interfere with a few of my plans just to make life interesting, like playing fetch with a puppy. I’m sure you noticed the fall out of a few of my side projects: a few shell companies that you received the accolades for shutting down, the fencer that you arrested that suddenly needed a decent alibi, not to mention that politician was going to be a nice playing piece before his untimely demise. But of course, all games get boring once they’ve gone on too long.”

Virgil’s teeth grind together. “Janus. Where are your bodyguards.”

Janus’s smile is cold and sharp and he picks up his water glass. “Why Virgil! So kind of you to ask! If you must know, they’re in the morgue right now.”

A woman across the hall drops a glass, laughing in tizzy that speaks to having drunk just a bit too much. Virgil’s chair is the most comfortable thing he’s ever sat in. Virgil’s mouth tastes like beach sand.

“You can imagine my shock,” Janus continues, “when I found myself in some interesting discussions about unsatisfactory payments with people I’ve known since I was a toddler! I’d tell you the details of the amount of money that few of them were offered but it would likely send your shack living camera man into a cardiac arrest. So, I’ll just say that I’ve lost several close friends recently, and I’ve grown tired of attending funerals. I’m sure you can fill in the details yourself, darling.”

“Someone put a hit out on you?” Virgil asks, because he nearly can’t believe it, because it’s Janus with his gold gilded magic and silver tongue and dazzling gemstone eyes, because the type of money that it would take to have people dare go after Janus could fund entire countries, because the world is spinning like a top and Virgil is getting motion sick.

“Mhm, yes, I suppose you could phrase it like that.”

Virgil’s instinctively goes to check the fucking exits, but Janus clicks his tongue boredly.

“Yes, yes, I’m in danger, oh dear, I’m quaking.” He puts down his water glass and rests his head on his hand again. “Do you not think that if someone were going to kill me tonight, they would have chosen the moment the FBI agent put a gun to my head? Imagine, Virgil, the internal investigation, the FBI in a tizzy, your team locked down and suspended from the good work you do, the barking dogs that call themselves reporters biting at any news they could get and selling any story someone feeds them, a power vacuum in my circles…. I’m quite content with the knowledge that my mysterious assassin is not watching right this moment as they would have undoubtedly taken the fucking shot if they had been.”

Virgil forces himself to take a deep breath and let go of the knife in his left hand. He remembers suddenly, the cavalier smiles by which Janus had said I’m in need of a bodyguard, and the chill in the air turns frigid.

“I should have shot you,” Virgil says. “I should have just fucking shot you.”

Janus inclines his head in that infuriating way of his that seems like he’s laughing at him, even though there’s remotely funny about this. Virgil picks up his bruschetta and forces himself to take a bite and Janus does not call him out on the obvious attempt to buy himself more time.

He thinks that Logan is trying to coach him on what to say next, that Missy is ordering another glass of wine for herself, that Roman is resolutely snapping they are not going to get in the middle of this, that Patton is reading all of Janus’s body language to see that he’s telling the truth even though that sort of thing used to make Janus break out in hives.

“Do you know who it is?” Virgil swallows. “This competitor?”

“Do you think I would be resorting to requesting the FBI’s aid if I knew that, Virgil?”

He should feel vindicated: a year of uncertainty, of achingly familiar patterns, of not having a single piece of evidence to show his team, and now Janus is handing him everything on a silver platter.  He should leap on this, milk Janus dry for all that he’s worth, destroy his empire bit by bit and make Janus watch because the ultimatum would be his life or his legacy. He should be happy that this could be Janus’s “converse covered in a stranger’s blood” moment.

But the bitter rage in Virgil’s chest blazes, hot and fiery instead.

“You want my team to be meat shields for you,” Virgil says. “You want my team—”

Janus sneers. “What I want, Virgil, is for the FBI to either provide me with a decent bodyguard, or to get their eyes off my accounts so that I can move my money around enough to fund someone to do something about the problem.In a perfect world, I get both, and the FBI gets a nice easy mission that takes care of an unknown bad guy before the bad guy becomes civilian killing type of problem. I’m willing to put up with having someone watch my every move just to get this resolved—I’m willing to play entirely by the book, if that’s what’s require stop this person!”

But Virgil is shaking his head. “Absolutely not. You are out of your mind if you think I’m going to let you put them—”

“Do you really think that your team will be safe if you just stay out of this? I might not be the biggest fan of the FBI and the laws, but at least I have some respect for the balance of society as a whole. Without me in play, who exactly do you think this new player will begin to see as a threat? Hint: it won’t be the local police.”

“Shut up.”

Janus’s lips purse and picks up his water glass again. Virgil watches his hand swirl it on instinct, as if to say a leopard doesn’t change its spots, before he remembers that Virgil took his wine away and the curl of his lips looks pained. He drinks the water, and Virgil almost believes that he’s not trying to shove Roman or Logan or Patton in the way of a sniper for the sake of a business opportunity.

“What will it take, Virgil?” Janus asks, like he can buy his way into Virgil’s good graces. “For you to allow my help in keeping your people safe?”

“Don’t pretend that you care about them.”

“If you’re so concerned about this being a scheme,” Janus says taking a deep breath, “The co-owner of my accounts will be able to access the reports at any point and see exactly where all my money will be moving around to and all previous exchanges. They will be able to reassure the FBI that I’m not doing anything illegal, and that I’m not attempting to set up the FBI in any way. I’ll even give them access to move money how they please if they think I can’t be trusted with it.”

"You don’t have a co-owner."

"I could get one.”

"Yes, I’m sure the person you’d pick would be very trustworthy, Jay," Virgil says.

Janus just smiles at him, as though Virgil had finally said something he was expecting, as though Virgil had stumbled into one of the verbal pitfall traps that Janus loves so dearly. He makes a show suddenly of waving his fingers in the air—nothing up his sleeve— and then he fluidly reaches into the hidden inner pocket of his suit jacket.

((Virgil remembers a switchblade, flicked open and driven upwards into their attacker without room for error. He remembers Janus launching forward, shoving the man away from them both with the force of his knife, and twisting hard before he yanked it out. He remembers flinching and then falling and all the magic in the world disappearing in a spray of red.))

But Janus’s fingers do not bring out a switchblade. Between his pointer finger and middle finger, he holds another cream-colored card, barely bigger than a business card, and he holds it out to Virgil in an amicable manner.

"What’s that?" Virgil asks, stubbornly refusing to actually read any of the lettering on it, refusing to even look down at it when the spark of mischief is back in Janus’s eyes, sparkling like stars he tore from the sky with his selfish greedy hands that wanted everything in the world but Virgil.

"A wedding invitation," Janus says.

"...Why?"

“Because a spouse will be the easiest to add to an account, and the least suspicious thing for anyone who runs in my circles,” Janus says patiently.

“And?”

"Because I'd hope you'd come, Virgil."

Virgil doesn’t respond, chewing resolutely on the piece of bread as he watches Janus’s gaze for answers.

Evidently, Virgil’s quiet for too long, or Janus’s arm gets tired of holding out the card, or he becomes bored waiting for a meteor to crash into the building and kill them both in a hail of fire. Janus places the card on the table in front of Virgil, and withdrawals his limbs back to his side of the table.

"You’re usually much faster on the uptake,” he says. “Must I spell it out, darling? I'm financing a wedding. I intend to get married. I would like you to come. Bring your friends if you must."

"You want to throw a wedding to catch the person who wants you dead. And you want my FBI team there,” Virgil squeezes his bruschetta, until the outside of the bread crunches. “Do I get a heads up on the crime you’ll be committing at this wedding, at least?”

"Ah, yes," Janus says flatly. "The crime of being passionately in love and wanting the bride to show up."

The bread tumbles out of Virgil’s hand and the piece of tomato in his throat grows seven sizes just to lodge itself directly in Virgil’s lungs.

Distantly, Virgil is aware of Janus standing up, his napkin fluttering onto his still full plate, but by the time Virgil manages to breathe again, Janus has already dropped a credit card on the table and buttoned up his suit jacket again.

“Talk it over with your boss,” Janus says, with a fake politeness. “Or don’t. What do I care? If you agree to the terms and conditions, I’ll see you on April 13th.”

“W-wait—” Virgil coughs.

“What is there left to wait for, Virgil?” Janus says, sounding dangerously close to being cheerful. “Either you help me out and we stop this hooligan encroaching on both our lives, or I’m dead by this time next month and you get what you wanted all this time anyway.”

“Janus—!”

“I am out of options and out of time. All I have left is the knowledge that you might be more committed to justice than you are to your hatred of me.” Janus turns around and heads towards the front doors.  His shoes click-click-click on the polished floor, and his blond hair glows in the artificial lighting and the chandeliers sparkle. Virgil’s hands are on the table and he’s standing and there’s an emotion in him that feels like being seventeen years old and seeing a mugger come at his boyfriend with a knife in the middle of the best date of his life. The waiters move around Janus’s unbothered gait, and he tosses a roll of hundred-dollar bills on the table in front of Missy and Virgil should be screaming but he can’t make himself open his mouth again.

“And Virgil,” Janus pauses just once to look back at him, his smile kind and soft and a fucking lie. “If you thought I was even a half decent boyfriend, you should really see what I’m like as a husband.”

[hearts4golbach]

Light Shower. (Sal Fisher x Fem!Reader)

part 1

-

"you are the light I've been searching for forever."

-

at 4:11 a.m., I sat on my bed. the warm, early summer breeze blew in through my window. I had a dollar bill rolled up in one hand and a bag of pills in the other. I dumped one out, placing it gently onto my old math book. I crushed it up, being as quiet as possible not to wake up my parents. I formed the line with my id and snorted it with one quick motion. I tilted my head back and placed my finger over my nostril, sniffing the excess up. it felt like i had just got flipped upside down to give my brain a refresh. I felt the drugs start to kick in. I put the back back in the little rip in my pillow and took out my flip phone to text Larry and Sal.

"yoooooooooooo." I sent the group chat, I felt my body relax as it usually does after a long day and some coke. I knew I was an addict. but I was holding on by a string. Having a boyfriend that hits you constantly and forces you to fuck and having parents that are constantly fighting and should've broken up ages ago dont mix well.

6 months ago, my friend brought a small packet of coccaine to school, and it flipped my life upside down. I was addicted and ended up buying and selling my own. I was a goody two shoes, always had good grades, and would have a panic attack over a C or a B. but that completely changed.

My other friends boyfriend got my number and started hitting on me. he would tell me he only wanted me and not my friend. I gave in and helped him cheat on her. we met every day at the science hall to make out. he broke up with her, and we started dating a month later. he always begged to have sex with me, even after me telling him I wasn't ready. the first time I went over to his house for dinner, he raped me in his bed. and he hasn't stopped since. I've tried to break up with him multiple times, but he said he'd kill himself so I just gave up. I gave up trying to stop him. he began hitting me after the first time I tried to break up with him. there hasn't been a day since when I didn't have any bruises on my arms, legs, or torso.

"y r u up?" Larry texted back.

"the usual reason" I rolled onto my stomach. "u?"

"set my alarm wayyy to early 2day."

"damn. meet @ the treehouse?"

"omw"

"me 2?" sal finally responded.

"of course sally" I replied.

I slipped my converse on slipped out the door. me and sal met at the elevator. he lived in 402 while I lived in 404. we spent most of our free time together. sometimes with Larry, but you two also hung out alone. you guys found it comforting sitting on the roof of the apartments talking about the past and the future. Sal was your childhood best friend, until you had to move to new jersey and leave him behind. but your luck shone like a star the second you found out Sal was moving in right down the hall from you. your reunion was amazing, like rereading your favorite book and noticing all of the smaller details or like going on an intense roller coaster. I love him with all of my heart, and I knew he did too. he expressed it very frequently. Sal knew everything about my life down to the smallest details. yes, he knew about my boyfriend. and yes, he knew about my addiction. he knew more than anyone has ever known, and he just moved back 3 days ago. you two stayed in contact after you moved, going from writing letters once a week to staying up all night texting eachother. Sal was unlike any person you had ever known, and you loved him for that. I thought back to one of my favorite memories with him.

-

flashback:

I pushed sally on the swing while his dad and my mom spoke.

"I think sal likes her." Henry smiled. "ever since they met, she's all he talks about."

my mom giggled. "Y/n aswell." she nudged Henry. "soulmates?" she asked.

"sure seems like it. she helped sal a lot, you know, meeting her when they were sharing a hospital room is no coincidence."

"nothings a coincidence." mom grinned. "when sal was put into the room, the first thing she said was 'poor boy, mommy! he can't die, his hair is too cool.' y/n cared so much about everyone else she didn't realize how close she was to death, too."

"do you remember them playing cards in the middle of the floor?"

mom pulled a Polaroid out of her wallet. "I remember every day."

Henry gently rubbed her back.

"Hey, sal?" I asked as he slid the key card for the basement into the slot.

"yeah?" his voice has a slight rasp, as he had just woke up 10 minutes ago.

"do you remember our week together at the hospital?"

"how could I forget?"

-

"what's your name?" 3 year old me asked the bluenette in the hospital bed across from me.

he gently sat down his juice. "sal, what's yours?" the one eye showing squinted, so I assumed he was smiling.

"Y/n!" I responded cheerfully. I glanced down at my tray. "want my jello? I'm not hungry."

he silently nodded. I brought the jello over and gave it to him. I jumped and sat with him in his bed. "so, sal. I'm bored."

"me too." he exhaled, forcing a small bite through his bandages.

"I have an idea!" I dug through my pocket and pulled out a thing of light pink nail polish. "we can paint eachothers nails!"

"isn't that a girls thing?"

"that doesn't matter, silly!" you scooted closer to him. "do you want yours done first?"

he nodded and gave me his left hand. I gently brushed on the polish. he looked at the bruises and deep cuts on my arms and face. "what happened?" he asked.

"a strange man hit me with his car. he broke my leg too. I had to wobble over here." I giggled. I pointed down at my leg. "why are you here?"

"I got attacked by a doggie. the doggie killed my mommy." tears filled his only visible eye. I finished his pinky nail and pulled the blue boy in for a tight hug.

-

"yo, Y/n! you must be on some hard-core shit, I can see it on your face!" Larry laughed a little too loud.

"shut the fuck up, lanky bitch." I threw a pebble off the floor at him.

"you're on something?" sal questioned me.

"it was a long day." I giggled lightly, throwing another pebble at Larry after he threw the other one back. I flipped him off and leaned my head back on the bean bag, realizing the sun was just starting to rise.

"Shawn came over today." Larry didn't know he was abusive, all he knew was that he was a massive, super mega piece of shit. Larry and Sal groaned collectively, which made you laugh. "I know, right?"

"why don't you just dump him?" Larry sighed.

sal and I glared at eachother. we both knew it was because he would hurt me or someone else. bad. I shrugged. "I love him." I didn't.

-

this fanfiction is inspired by Light Shower by Melanie Martinez. I DO NOT OWN THE SONG!

[class-1b-bull]

Class 1-b as random things me and my friends have said to eachother!

I tried to get everyone multiple times but some characters got more than others </3

There is a lot of cussing, name calling and mentions of virginity but dats about it. Plus a brief mention of drug dealing.

:] :] :]

Manga- BRO! IS THIS THE BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA ULTRA ANYLISIS BOOK THAT LETS YOU KNOW MORE ABOUT THE CHARACTERS, THEIR QUIRKS, AND THEIR RELATIONS WITH OTHER CHARACTERS FROM THE SAME SERIES?! PUBLISHED BY HORIKOSHI, THE AUTHOR OF BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA, HIMSELF?!?!

Bondo- uh yea?

Manga- i knew you were cringe but a virgin? Do better man.

:] :] :]

Sen- WHERE THE FUCK IS CTRL+Z?!?!?

Awase- ctrl z dosent work on tattoos actually..

:] :] :]

Kuroiro - the atoms will align because im hot like that. *runs straight into a wall*

:] :] :]

Kamakiri - the riddle isnt that fucking hard your just dumb as shit.

Kosei - can I give them a hint?

Kamakiri - no, fuck you.

Awase - you had to high expectations for me and tokage when making this riddle.

Kamakiri - I litterally looked up riddles for kids.

Tokage - well im obviously not a kid so that probably why I cant figure it out..

Kosei - can I pleasssseeeeeee give them a hint.

Kamakiri - fine whatever.

Kosei - ASS!!

Kamakiri - you know what? Actually... shut the fuck up!

Kosei - its a good hint!

Kamakiri - no the fuck its not.

Rin - no actually thats a great hint. Want me to demonstrate?

Awase - what is there to demonstrate???

*litterally 3 1/2 hours later*

Tokage - WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK DOES ASS HAVE TO DO WITH THE MOON?!?!??!

AWASE - FUCKING MOONING!!!!!

:] :] :]

Kendo - just letting you know, your a great friend. And I really care about you.

Kodai - being nice to me wont change the fact that your ass at mario cart.

:] :] :]

Shiozaki - *running up to kendo full sprint* hey um- quick question, could jesus do a kick flip? SPECIFICALLY with the kids hello kitty skatebord that crack dealer tried to sell us...

:] :] :]

Shishida - I dont like gossip but I thought I should let you know that monoma thinks your a drug dealer...

Kosei - why? Is he a cop?

Shishida - no but-

Kosei - is he buyin?

:] :] :]

Shoda - *crying in a voice message to the class b group chat* I just got into a car wreak and the cop had to pull me out of my carrr *loud as sniff* while fucking doja cat was talking about sucking dick... and it was really embarrassing. Oh! And I broke my leg I guess but whatever.

:] :] :]

Pony - Want my autograph? Too fuckin bad bitch! Im Beyonce type famous now I dont have TIME for your annoying ass.

Kodai - what happened?

Komori - she got 15 likes on a tumblr post.

:] :] :]

Tetsutetsu - MEN CAN LACTATE?!?!?!

Kosei - *loudly starts playing carless whisper in the distance*

:] :] :]

Kamakiri - shut the fuck up I only came over to your house to watch madoka magica and pet your cat now where the fuck is kitty kitty bang bang?!

:] :] :]

Honenuki - hand.

...

Honenuki - HAND!

Kuroiro - TAKE ME TO DINNER FIRST?! I aint ready for that kind of commitment man.

Honenuki - if you dont let me finish painting you nails I am going to kill your cat.

:] :] :]

Bondo - *crying while eating pretzels* he really did crank that soulja boy...

:] :] :]

Monoma - statistics show that I am better than you at litterally everything so riddle me this? If I am so fucking awesome why do I cry myself to sleep every night?!

:] :] :]

Reiko - that toddler is so fucking metal..

Like get it bitch. Tell your mom to fuck off for putting you in time out. Girlboss shit.

:] :] :]

Rin - that kid is litterally me.

Kosei - *earth shattering scream and falls off ceiling*

:] :] :]

Shiozaki - so is everyone that does crack jesus or just your mom?

:] :] :]

Shoda - thats a nice fucking rock...

Kodai - please dont fuck the rock...

:] :] :]

Awase - WTF WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEYRE NOT REAL?!

Rin - awase why would sen have a LIVE jellyfish inside of a lava lamp...

Awase - he would if he wasent a beta cuck.

:] :] :]

Pony - if I give you $20 can you draw the dude from highschool musical pregnant? Its for my cousins birthday.

Manga - first of all what the actual fuc-

:] :] :]

Shiozaki - believe it or not. But being a man. Ok? And sucking another mans dick. BEFORE MARRIAGE. Hear me out on this one... Is slightly againt the great lord above.

Kodai - jesus?

Reiko - no, ace ventura: pet detective.

...

Reiko - specifically after he climbed out of the rinos ass, naked.

:] :] :]

Sen - bro what even is this? Its low key ugly as fuck.

Rin - thats litterally me...

Sen - daymn *sticks photo in pants* ANYWAYS-

:] :] :]

Shishida - I get everyone is trying to stay calm but twerking to the fire alarm wont stop the fire!

:] :] :]

Rin - cute dogs!

Kosei - *lifting his foot* thanks I moisturize~

:] :] :]

Pony - i knew something was wrong with you when you laughed at my joke but not in the 'I watched mean girls' type of way.

:] :] :]

Komori - *walking around the house frantically*

Reiko - we would be out the door already if you didnt kiss all of your plants goodbye..

:] :] :]

Awase - I couldn't even hear that because me and kosei were talking about how hot she was.

:] :] :]

*Rin buddled up in like 20 blankets in front of a fire place*

Kosei - hot girl shit. *dives into the pile and face plants right into his balls.*

:] :] :]

Manga - can I eat your knees tall man?

Bondo - no thanks.

Manga - what if I asked in a uwu voice?

Bondo - still no.

Manga - daymn... alpha male type shit.

:] :] :]

Rin - you realize i am a dude right?

Awase - guys can have long hair?

Sen - of course they can have long hair dipshit.

Kosei - who cares if rin used to be a girl?! Hes a guy now and thats all that matters!

Rin - no I was always a guy...

Kosei - its ok man :D ill always be your friend <3

[dylansslutt]

baby, im yours / j.b

  “i promise it’ll feel real good.”

 “breathe, baby breathe.”

  “can we pretend?”

this was a request by @fred0ublack , i never rlly wrote much for john b so this was fun. i had a different vibe i had to read into from him so i hope you enjoy

summary: tension

 warnings: smut and injury

 “where the hell have you been?” walking up the steps of john b’s chataeu, his eyes flicker to yours.

 “oh ya’ know, the usual...” he mutters making you roll your eyes. “i’ve been calling you loser.”

 walking behind him into the house, everyone else is busy so you ended up at your best friends. “my phone is dead, or lost i dont even know anymore.”

 you lean down snatching a beer from the fridge before glancing back at him. “everyone else is busy today, soo let’s go get food and get shit faced!”

 he sighs dropping onto the couch, making your face fall. “hey, what’s up?” you sit down beside him, his eyes glance over to you.

 “just a lot on my mind right now.” he could barely keep his eyes on you, flickering else where. “if it’s about your dad... i beli-”

 “no.. no- not about him, i just-” he stands up walking from me and to the fridge to grab himself a beer. “just something on my mind okay?”

 the way his eyes were on you made you shift differently, you always thought john b was fine. yet the rule of no pogue on pogue macking so you let your mind be, but right now you were wishing to do something.

 “okay well... since you don’t wanna talk about it.” you stand up now only a few feet from him, “we can do something instead of just sitting here?”

 he nods, “sure, we can take the boat out?” you nod, both of you getting dressed into your suits. since this was reoccurring you always had a bathing suit here.

 stepping out of the bathroom, a towel in one hand as you grab your bag with the other. “we have like 4 beers, do you wanna go to the store before?”

 he calls from the kitchen as you come around, “yea i’ll go grab some real quick.”

 -

 after getting back with snacks and drinks, you see john b on the boat already. “here!” you hand over the bags as you climb aboard, him setting the stuff down before starting up the boat.

 you both reach a good spot deciding to turn the boat off and chill, you took two beers out the bag. “alright let’s see who’s faster.”

 he laughs shaking his head, “i swear your worse than jj!” you stick your tongue out at him. the beer slides down your throat only a small amount slips down your chin, running down onto your exposed chest.

 he chugs the last few of his just as you pull your empty can away, his gaze follows the trail of the beer. “i won!” you sing song standing up happily, excited you finally beat him.

 “only took you a million tries.” he stands up with you throwing his hat back onto the seat. turning his gaze back towards you with a cheeky smile.

 “shush.” you jokingly told him before you look back at the water. “im gonna warm up some more before i get in.”

he shrugs towards you before running and flipping off the boat. reaching into your bag pulling another beer out, popping the top bringing it up to your lips. you plop back down in your seat enjoying the sun on your skin.

 “you should really get in!” he calls out from the water making you sit up and look over the edge.

 “i will in a minute, imma drink the rest of this first.” you wave your newly opened beer, him only rolling his eyes.

 “ya’ throw me one?” you set the drink in the cup holder to grab another beer, moving back towards the water.

 “you better catch this!” eyeing up the aim you toss it over, landing straight into his palm. “what you mean?” he cockily waves the beer making you throw your head back as a laugh leaves you.

 you chug down the rest of your beer before tossing it into your bag. not gonna litter the beer, kie would actually kill you.

 standing up on the side of the boat you smile down at john b, “there she is.” your hands rest on your hips a small giggle escapes you.

 “okay... do i wanna do a backflip or a front flip?” he smirks weighing the option himself. he paddles back slightly before calling out his answer.

 “a back flip.” you nod in agreement before turning around, but as you did your foot slips. everything moved quickly your head hit something and next second the water overwhelms you.

 your head spins as your eyes tried to focus as you sink down, but your chest was on fire. everything started to blur and you felt yourself began to pass out...

 your body hit the boat floor as john b hovers over you, hands moving frantically. “y/n/n... wake up, come on.”

 you heard his voice, eyes flutter open softly before you start coughing up water. he holds onto moving your hair back. “breathe, baby breathe.”

 you were only coughing softly now but everything that just happen was intense, your eyes flicker up to john b’s who was already staring at you. “shit, y/n/n your head.”

 he reaches back snatching his shirt as you lift your hand to touch your forehead, hissing at the pain snatching your hand away. “it’s doesn’t need stitches just bleeding slightly.”

 a groan leaves your lips, “why am i so fuckin’ clumsy?” john b laughs softly, “you just now notice this?”

 you glare at him before he helps you up and onto the seat, “here let’s head back before you almost die again.” you laugh slightly before wincing. john b’s look of worry goes unnoticed for a moment, your gaze lands on him.

 he turns away quickly before turning the boat on. the ride was short back the house, holding john b’s towel to your forehead so the cut could dry up. as you two pull up he docks the boat before helping you off it.

 “here let me help you.” he says from behind you as you two walk through the door. he flicks the bathroom light on reaching into the cabinets pulling a few things out.

 you hop up onto the counter in the kitchen as he walks towards you. setting the stuff down, you drop your hand from your head letting him get a better look.

 “i’m gonna clean it... it might sting.” he mutters before pouring some alcohol onto a cotton ball. it stung like a bitch but you just let him clean it, knowing the ocean would infect it if untreated.

 “you promise it’s not that bad?” your stare at him, faces inches apart you could lean forward and your lips would touch. his eyes flicker from your cut, to your lips then up to your eyes.

 “it’s not that bad, i’m gonna put this on so it wont scar nasty.” putting something ontop covering the wound somewhat.

 his free hand rest on your knee as he finishes, your stomach drops almost making you nervous. you couldn’t tell if he was hinting anything or it was just him being him.

 you try not to read into anything as he pulls back, “thank you, for saving me pretty much.”

 his hand never moves as his other hand settles on the counter beside you, “you had me worried there, i dont think i ever swam so fast.” his sincerity was deep gaze never leaving yours.

 “i made you lose your beer.” you realize and he shakes his head.

 “you’re worried about the beer?”

 “not really.”

 the two of you then sat in silence for a moment only staring at another. you felt yourself get hot from under his gaze, he licks his lips slightly before he squeezes his knee.

 he opens his mouth just as you go to speak, “go ahead.” you mutter and he shakes his head.

 “n-no you go ahead.”

 “i was just gonna say can you get me some pain reliever?” his hand slips off your knee, making disappointment spread through you. he grabs an item beside you placing it on your lap, before grabbing a water bottle out the fridge.

 “thank you, now what were you gonna say?”

 he seems hesitant at first, you pour two pills on your hand. looking back up at him, thankful your head wasn’t hurting that bad.

 “do you still have feelings for jj?” the question was so random that you stare at him crazy.

 “that was like 8th grade john b, no.” you laugh and he nods, “oh okay.”

 without thinking you reply back, “beside’s i like someone else.” you shut your mouth as he looks directly in your eyes.

 “so you just keep secrets from your best friend now?” you go to push him jokingly but he caught your hand.

 “actually you are mister! you never told me about your crush on cameron, i had to find out from jj.” you hop off the counter now standing shorter than him.

 “th-that is not true.” his blush was now noticeable, not expecting to be caught.

 “oh yea, totally.” the sarcasm drips from your lips as he sighs. “i thought she was cute but nothing else, plus she is dating topper.”

 you held your hands up, “hey i’m not judging you.”  going to walk off his hand grabs your arm softly, stopping your movements.

 “y/n/n, can i ask you something?” he releases your arm after you nod. “who’s your crush?” you felt warm at the question.

 “can we pretend like i said i didn’t have one?” hoping for it to be left alone he only reasks one more time.

 “i don’t know? why are you questioning it so much. falling onto the couch relaxing onto the couch he only stands near it.

 “now come on and lets watch a movie since imma dumbass that got hurt.” he lets the conversation be as he sits down beside you. his arm goes behind you as you click your profile since they dont have one.

 clicking onto a random horror movie, you shift around laying back on the pillows. your legs rest over his lap, hands holding your calf comfortably. the movie begins and john b leans over switching off the lamp.

 the sun setting through the windows was the only source of light as the movie began. after about 20 minutes, you move a little making his hand slide down onto your thigh.

 it stays there unmoving, as you watch his eyes that only stares forward onto the tv. your head wasn’t hurting anymore thankfully so you just remain comfy against him.

  the scene started to get sexual as the two characters began to get flirty, making him squeeze your thigh jokingly. laughing you glance up seeing his gaze already on you. in one move his hand cradles your cheek and captures his lips onto yours.

 eyes fluttering shut motion was soft and sweet, your hands find its way into his hair. he is careful and gentle for you being hurt not so long ago.

 he shifts more on top of you, holding himself up with one arm. his other slipping under your jaw, lightly around your throat. as you bite his lip softly his hand slips down cupping your breast.

 moaning slightly into his mouth he kneads it softly before gripping your waist pulling you up into him. he pulls away panting lightly with a smile on his face.

 a smile couldn’t help cross your face as you question him, “what?”

 “is this okay?” you nod reassuring him as he kisses you once again, this time his hand starts tugging your shorts down. kicking the shorts around your ankles, he brushes along your covered slit.

 a shaky breathe leaves you, as he kisses down your neck slowly. teasingly slipping your panties to the side, you felt your stomach go into knots. landing on the one spot you were craving a moan escapes your lips.

 you lean forward sinking your teeth into his shoulder as he moans from the feeling. “stop teasing me.”

 he chuckles in your ear before he slides two fingers down, coating them with your juices before slowly sliding inside you. your body shakes at the feeling, enjoying how he flickers them inside of you,

 holding his shoulders as he continues, you began rocking your hips against his. “tell me what you want, baby.”

 “your tongue a-and fingers.” you stutter out as he drops down kitty licking your clit. back arching as a moan escapes again.

 “f-fuck...” you whine as he holds your thigh with one hand, the other curling inside of you. “oh god.”

 trying to squeeze your thighs shut, he pulls back looking up through hooded eyes. “stay still baby, i promise it’ll feel real good.”

 the words alone made you sink further in the couch. his tongue going faster as you push towards his lips a moaning mess under him. the bundle builds up in your stomach making your breath hitch.

 “ooh fuc-fuck, im gon-” he never lets up, your thighs shaking around him as your toes began curling up. “imma gonna cum, im gonna cum.”

 you try jerking away but he holds you still as you felt yourself release all over his face. him never letting up.

 after a few more minutes of lapping all your juices, he pulls away licking his lips. “you taste good, baby.” he mutters leaning towards you capturing you in a kiss.

 tasting yourself on him as he pulls away, leaving you still shaking under him. he shoves his pants down looking at you making sure your still okay. nodding he rubs his tip over your soaking folds.

 shivering from the touch, he lines himself up entering you slowly. he leans down kissing your shoulder, trailing all the way up to your lips as you adjust. he begans moving as a slow deep pace before you beg him to go faster.

 his hands pin yours above your head as he lifts your hips up slightly, your head reals at the new angle. slipping one hand out from his grasp you hold onto the pillow above your head.

 “oh god...” feeling yourself being overstimulated as he continues the effortless pounding. your sensation starts to build again as you go to push his hips away, he grasp your wrist once more.

 the most pornographic moan escapes you as you come undone around him, he rides out your wave before he gets sloppy pulling out and cumming onto your stomach.

 heaving in and out as he gets up to grab a towel, you watch through hooded eyes him clean you up. pulling your pants up weakly he scoots you up some slipping back behind you, now cuddling you close.

 calming down beside the slight tremble of your legs, his hands run through your hair softly. “you’re my crush.”

 “i figured... but to tell you. you are mine.” he whispers in your ear before kissing your forehead as you snuggle closer.

[outermaybanks]

Out of the Woods - ch 12

a/n: sorry for the break college is whooping my ass :( series masterlist

prev ☆ next

When I woke up, it was once again to the feeling of being suffocated, JJ’s head nestled into my neck. “JJ we gotta get dressed.” I whispered, starting to move him.

He let out a whine as he rolled off me, allowing me to get up. 

“JJ, c’mon, today’s the day, John B is gonna come by right after his fishing trip with Ward.” I said, looking for a shirt. I found one near my bag and threw it on before looking in my bag to find some pants.

“I was having such a good dream…” JJ mumbled, I pulled some shorts on as he finally sat up. JJ watched me for a moment before a smile crept onto his face.

“What?” I asked, buttoning my shorts. “By that mark on your neck, I don’t think I was dreaming.” 

I furrowed my brows before digging deeper in my bag for my compact mirror, and when I held it up, sure enough there were hickies scattered on my neck. “I’m gonna kill you, Maybank.”

“You’re wearing my shirt.” JJ countered, making me look down. “You look better in it.”

I rolled my eyes and quickly threw him his clothes. “Get dressed, I’m gonna make some breakfast.” I said before leaving the room to head for the kitchen.

My friends slowly joined me, first Pope, then Kie, and JJ last just in time for me to make some plates for everyone. He was shirtless, which only drew more attention to the fact that I was wearing his shirt.

“Thanks mom.” Pope teased, grabbing his plate.  “So… did you guys hear any strange noises last night?” Kie asked as she made hers.  “Nope.” I quickly answered, keeping my head down, focused on my plate. “What noises?” JJ asked with a smirk. “I can’t be too sure. A thudding. But it only lasted like… 15 minutes.”

“Hey! 15 minutes is long for some thudding noises,” JJ defended and I hit his arm, making Kie and Pope burst out laughing.

“Fine, next time, make your own damn breakfast,” I said, sitting on the counter with my plate in my hand. “Oh c’mon mom,” Pope said. “Yeah, we’re just teasing. It’s not our fault you're practically waving it in our faces.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” I questioned.

Kie’s eyes widened before she looked to JJ, so I looked to JJ, with his shirt off, you could see faint scratch marks along his shoulders and back.

“What can I say? The lady couldn’t keep her hands off me,” JJ said, earning groans of disgust from our friends. “Go put a shirt on, JJ, please, before John B and Sarah get here,” I instructed. “Yes ma’am,” JJ replied, putting a piece of bacon in his mouth before getting up from the table.

After breakfast, John B still hadn’t shown, so we all decided to wait outside for him, Me and JJ laid together in the hammock, while Pope and Kie tested out the rig using the tree.

“John B pullin’ a Houdini,” JJ spoke up as I fidgeted mindlessly with his fingers and the rings on them. “Yeah, where is he?” Pope asked. “He’ll show,” I said, loud enough for Kie and Pope to hear. “I got my scholarship interview tomorrow, we gotta get this done,” Pope added.

“Speak of the devil!” JJ chimed, and I sat up to see John B walking over. JJ got out of the hammock to greet him, but he ignored JJ and Pope’s bickering over who set everything up, and just walked into the house. Me and Kie exchanged looks then quickly got up to follow after Pope and JJ, already following after John B. He was searching for something. He ignored all of us as we asked what was happening, but he stopped looking after he pulled the gun from under the pull out couch.

“John B, what do you need the gun for?” JJ asked, but John B ignored him, and when JJ tried to stop him, John B flipped him onto the couch.

“Jeeb, what the hell?!” I scolded, but he just pushed Pope out of his way. “What the hell is his problem?” I asked, helping JJ back up. Kie steadied Pope, then chased after John B. “John B what the hell are you doing?” Kie called. When we got back outside, John B was JJ’s motor bike.

“Ward knows about the gold. He killed my dad,” John B said, making all of us stop. His voice was cracking, and before we could process what he said, he drove off.

“What the FUCK?” JJ shouted, running a hand through his hair. “What do we do? Do we follow him? Go to the police?” I questioned. “Cops are useless,” Kie said, exasperated.  “Junie, June- where’s your gun?” JJ asked.

“In my bag-” I said pointing behind me before heading back into the house, the three of them right behind me. I grabbed my bag from the room, but JJ took it out of my hands, digging through my clothes, pausing to pocket a pair of my underwear before finally finding the gun.

“I say we go find Ward,” JJ said, holding the gun up. “JJ, stop.” I scolded, grabbing my panties from his pocket. “We can’t kill Ward Cameron, we need to find out where John B went.” “Who knows where he went?” Pope pointed out. “Sarah… He’s gonna go find Sarah,” I said. “How do you know that?” Kie questioned. “‘Cause it’s John B, we should take the boat over there, see what we can see.” 

Everyone agreed, and we got in the boat, Pope driving us across the water over to Figure Eight, pulling up right next to Ward’s boat.

“So what now? We just go up to the front door and ask, ‘Hey, have you seen John B?’” JJ asked. “He lives at Tannyhill now, it’s plausible. We can play dumb,” Kie said. “Play dumb?” JJ questioned. “It’s pretty late…” Pope said. “What?” I threw at Pope’s readiness to give up. “Look, I’ve never seen John B like that. Maybe Junie is right, maybe we should go to the cops.” 

“The cops- and say what, Kie? We’re worried about our friend because he’s going off on a rampage because Ward Cameron killed Big John? They’re not gonna believe us!” JJ countered.

Pope picked up the binoculars and looked through them. “Hey, I see Ward.”

Kie quickly took the binoculars to look through.

“Doesn’t look dead to me. Let’s go home,” Pope said, moving to get back to the wheel. “What?” Kie asked. “Look, obviously Mr. Cameron is fine, and even if John B was here, he isn’t now, okay? Plus I have the biggest, most important moment of my life in six hours,” Pope explained. “Yeah, well, our friend is in trouble.” Kie argued. “I’m in trouble! Guys, I haven’t been home in three days. My dad’s probably put all my shit on the street by now.”

“Guys-” I tried.

“So that's it? You're gonna turn your back on your friend?" Kie accused.

“Okay, yo, guys, can we not do this right now?” JJ asked.

“I have a scholarship interview in the morning. I can’t-” “What about John B?” Kie asked. “Why is it always about John B?” Pope threw back. “It’s not always about John B, don’t be stupid, it would be any of you guys in this situation,” Kie shouted.

“Guys-” JJ spoke up, making me turn to him, but Kie and Pope kept arguing.

“Oh, bullshit!” Pope argued. “This is about friendship!” Kie continued.

“Bring it down…” JJ said.

“Look, this is about Pogues for life.” “What about forensic pathology?” Pope countered. “Forensic pathology?” “It’s my life. Everything I’ve worked for-” “That’s your priority?” “Stop the moral high ground bullshit-”

“Pope!” I interjected quickly, I was all for making sure Pope made it to his interview, but I could tell this argument was heading in a bad direction.

“Excuse me?” Kie questioned. “No, no, she has no room to talk.” Pope turned to Kie. “Where were you when Big John went missing? You weren’t there. You weren’t there for John B, you weren’t there for any of us. Remember your Kook year?”

“Dude!” JJ spoke up.

“Yeah. You forgot about us. Now you feel guilty.” “Don’t talk to her like that!” I shouted, standing from where I sat on the bench. “Give me a break!” Kie shouted, pushing Pope, but he pushed her back. JJ quickly jumped up to get in between them. “Hey! If I’m the one mediating, we’ve hit rock bottom. Bow, now.” JJ said to Pope, separating the two. “I’ll drop you off.”' “Okay, yo, guys, can we not do this right now?” JJ asked. “I have a scholarship interview in the morning. I can’t-” “What about John B?” Kie asked. “Why is it always about John B?” Pope threw back. “It’s not always about John B, don’t be stupid, it would be any of you guys in this situation,” Kie shouted.

“Guys-” JJ spoke up, making me turn to him, but Kie and Pope kept arguing.

“Oh, bullshit!” Pope argued. “This is about friendship!” Kie continued.

“Bring it down…” JJ said.

“Look, this is about Pogues for life.” “What about forensic pathology?” Pope countered. “Forensic pathology?” “It’s my life. Everything I’ve worked for-” “That’s your priority?” “Stop the moral high ground bullshit-”

“Pope!” I interjected quickly, I was all for making sure Pope made it to his interview, but I could tell this argument was heading in a bad direction.

“Excuse me?” Kie questioned. “No, no, she has no room to talk.” Pope turned to Kie. “Where were you when Big John went missing? You weren’t there. You weren’t there for John B, you weren’t there for any of us. Remember your Kook year?” “Dude!” JJ spoke up. “Yeah. You forgot about us. Now you feel guilty.” “Don’t talk to her like that!” I shouted, standing from where I sat on the bench. “Give me a break!” Kie shouted, pushing Pope, but he pushed her back. JJ quickly jumped up to get in between them. “Hey! If I’m the one mediating, we’ve hit rock bottom. Bow, now.” JJ said to Pope, separating the two. “I’ll drop you off.”

JJ dropped Kie off at home, then Pope. Then it was just us.

“Where to now, princess? Back to the Chateau?”

I looked over the skyline, from the way the blue was filling the sky, it had to be maybe four in the morning. “Something Pope said reminded me of something.”

“What?” “The rest of my stuff, I told my mom I’d come back for it.” JJ raised an eyebrow. “I really don’t want to go back there alone, JJ.” I said softly. “I’ll take you, as soon as the sun rises.” I forced a smile and then looked back out on the water. “JJ?” “Yes darlin’?” JJ asked, preparing to turn the boat around. “That was really hot, how you handled the situation.” I could practically hear his smirk. “Just let Papa J handle things, baby girl.”

We had nowhere to go, no idea where John B was. JJ drove the boat to the dock he used to pick me up from, and tied down the boat, but the sun was just starting to rise. Me and JJ sat across from each other on the front of the boat, I kept my knees up, my stomach churning at the thought of what I was about to face.

“Hey…” JJ said softly, making me look up at him. “You alright?” “Yeah… It’s just a lot… Big moment, y’know?” I replied. “Just ‘cause it’s big doesn’t mean it’s gotta be heavy. I’m here.” JJ said, letting his fingers twitch closer to touch mine. I smiled to myself before reaching out to interlock our fingers.  “For the guy who took my virginity, you seem awfully hesitant to touch me.” 

JJ chuckled nervously, before pulling me closer, letting me lean on his chest. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up, bug. Finally have something worth holding onto.”

I looked up at him before putting a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down to press my lips to his.

We sat like that for a while, watching the sunrise with his arms around my waist. Then, the sun was high enough to justify showing up at my mom’s door.

JJ insisted on being the one to knock. Cody was the one to pull back the door.

“Junie!” Cody practically shouted, before my mother was quickly in the door frame.  “Now isn’t a good time-” “What did I tell you? She’d come running back with her tail between her legs.” I heard Theodore shout before he appeared behind my mom. “We’re here for her things.” JJ spoke up.  “They’re in my house.”  “Her mom’s house.”

Theodore’s jaw clenched, but JJ wasn’t scared. He turned around to hold his hand out for me, and I took it and he opened the door, causing everyone to back up as JJ led me into the house. He pulled me in front of him and walked right behind me into my room.

I could barely remember what I was supposed to be doing, and the talking didn’t help.

“Mommy, is Junie leaving again?” Cody’s small voice asked. “Shh, sweetheart.”

I shook myself out of my thoughts and started grabbing handfuls of clothes, making a pile on the bed.

“Let me guess.” Theodore’s voice boomed from where he stood in the living room. “This guy knocked you up and you need to sell all this shit, right? Well, I’m telling you right now, no hand outs, and your mom won’t babysit for free.” My eyes closed in annoyance. 

“Man, do you ever shut up?” JJ replied. “JJ, stop, he’s not worth it.” I muttered, shoving the pile of clothes into a garbage bag. I moved over to my desk and started clearing out the essentials. 

“You’re cocky now, son, but I’ll tell you what, being a father? A lot harder than it looks.” “How the hell would you know?”  “JJ don’t.” “What the hell did you just say to me?” I could hear Theodore’s footsteps booming. “Teddy, not in front of Cody!” My mom’s voice chimed in, cracking like it always did when this happened. “I want you off my property, now.”  “She’s getting her things, and then I promise you we’ll stay far away. She’s never coming back here.”

“JJ, stop.” I said, shoving the garbage bag of clothes into his chest. I looked up and saw my mom staring at me with tears in her eyes as she held Cody in front of her. “But he’s right. I’m not coming back unless it’s to take Cody with me.” I stood up straight and looked out the doorway. “Until then, be a fucking mother for once.”

My mom practically crumbled while she sobbed. 

“Don’t you speak to your mother like that. You see, Tiff, I told you she needed more discipline.”

Then, before I knew what was happening, JJ rushed past me, past my mom and had Theodore against the wall.

“JJ!” I shouted, chasing after him. “June, you tell your little boyfriend-”

JJ smacked him back against the wall. If I wasn’t standing so close, I wouldn’t have seen JJ press the gun into Theodore’s side. “That’s big boyfriend to you. Now here’s what’s gonna happen. Junie is going to grab her stuff, and then we are going to leave, and you will not say a word to her the entire time. If you think you can do that, I won’t kill you for putting your hands on my girl, sound good?” 

Theodore nodded, his hands held up in surrender.

“Bugs, go get your stuff, I’m just gonna stand right here.”

I quickly backed up, turning to go back in my room, grabbing shit at double time, grabbing stuff I wasn’t even sure I needed before I tied the bag off and went back out into the living room where JJ still had Theodore against the wall.

“JJ, c’mon.” 

JJ let go of Theodore to take the bag from me, then had me go out in front of him

Once we were out of the trailer, we ran back to the boat.

“Holy fucking shit, I can’t believe you did that.” I said between pants. “I told you, bugs, let Papa J handle it.”

I bit back a smile before jumping up to wrap my arms around him. He turned his hat around before dipping down to press his lips to mine.

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