#that is all *bows and dramatically pulls the curtains down*

[lemonduckisnowawake]

Male Lead, introducing himself in some story: I'm a playboy with -

Me: I hate you

Male Lead: You didn't let me finish

Me: Ah, right. Sorry for interrupting. Go ahead

Male Lead: I'm a playboy who plays with women's hearts but secretly has a heart of gold, simply searching for the one I will cherish and who will open my eyes to the love I've been seeking through my shallow relationships

Me: I hate you and you need Jesus, not a romantic partner

[cherryredstars]

Hey cherry! I loved your work for a really long time and I saw you had your requests open. 💕

What about dancer!reader and a dbf!Miguel and he just loves to go to her dance recitals and competitions with her dad and smother her in the flowers he bought her as a gift afterwards <33

Pairing: dbf!Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Age Gap, Secret Relationship

A/N: I did ballet for one year in kindergarten and have no idea how recitals work so take my Dance Mom knowledge instead. But I hope you enjoy and thank you, love!

Unedited

You are going to throw up.

You always feel like you're going to throw up right before your performance. Behind the stage curtain, you shake out your arms and legs, trying to loosen your joints and relax your body. The girl on stage right now is doing amazing, and while you're happy for her, you're also scared. You don't want to be lackluster in comparison.

You watch anxiously as the girl makes her final steps before her number ends, and she does her performative exit off the stage. She quickly shuffles past you once she gets behind the curtain, and you both exchange nervous nods of acknowledgment. You let out a shaky breath as you stare at the now empty stage, mouth almost thinning before you think better of it and risk smudging your lipstick. After a bit of silence, you have one of the stage crew tap your shoulder, giving you a silent show of 5 seconds before you get called on. You straighten up, getting into your entrance position just in time for the announcer to call your name and performance piece.

You enter the stage, facing the crowd as the music begins to fade in. The auditorium is dark. Only the first few rows are barely lit from them glowing stage lights. Even so, your eyes zero in on two figures near the center of the audience. You aren't exactly sure how they always find seats in the same area every time, but the dedication and consistency touch you.

When the music picks up, you begin your routine, trying to simultaneously remember to keep your face expressive and count the steps in your head. With all the fast movements, the audience in front of your blurs into one large mass. You can feel every bone in your body softening as you get into your element, muscle memory locking in as the movements become natural and almost effortless. Something in your mind buzzes with satisfaction as your entire being hones in on the carefree nature of your dance, remaining even after the music ends and you do your last step on beat.

The buzz begins to fade to make way to the applause of the audience, and you let out a breathless smile as you bask in it for a few short seconds before you find your way backstage again. A few of your friends come up to you, complimenting you on a brilliant dance. It's smiles and quiet laughter backstage as the rest of the dances and performances continue, filling the time until you all gather on stage again for a final bow and thank yous before you all disperse into the crowd. A few of your friends walk out with you, and one of your friends link your arms with theirs.

"Soooo, are you finally going to go out with us to get something to eat? This might be the last time we all dance on the same stage."

You laugh, shaking your head at your friend's dramatics. It's not even any one of your friend's last year at the studio, just an excuse to guilt trip you into going. From the corner of your eye, you can see a familiar figure staring at you. You shake off your friend, telling them off for their dramatics and giving your friend group hugs and goodbyes. Your friend groans as they're pulled away from the others, yelling back at you that you have no choice but to join them next time. You roll your eyes and wave back, watching as they leave from a side entrance.

The second they leave through the door, you gasp as a kiss is placed to the back of your neck. Your hand slaps around the area as a shiver runs down your spine, turning to find Miguel behind you. You smile, swatting his chest.

"Ew! My neck is still sweaty!" You whine, peering behind his muscular body. "Where's dad?"

Miguel hands you a bouquet a flower, and you smile as you take it from him. They're bright and pretty, smell lovely. They coincidentally match your costume, and you hold them to your chest.

"Bathroom." Miguel answers simply, leaning down to kiss your cheek. "Good job, mi luz. Looked fucking beautiful."

Your cheeks burn, and you lean up on your toes to press a returning kiss to his cheek. You're sure you look awestruck at him, lovesick better describing it. You throw your arm around his neck, your other hand jutted away to make sure the flowers aren't crushed as you hug him. Miguel's arms wrap around you, large hands planted on your up and lower back, rubbing up and down gently. You practically melt into the embrace, only pulling away when you see your father reenter the auditorium. You move to pull away, but Miguel doesn't let you leave without a quick squeeze to the ass.

You gasp in surprise, glaring at him as your dad walks up to the two of you. Your eyes are trained on Miguel's mischievous ones, mouthing You are SO dead, to him as your father pulls you into his own hug. You're practically suffocating in your dad's embrace, but you can't help but smile as he sways you back and forth as he congratulates his "little girl".

When your dad finally pulls away, he ruffs up your hair, laughing at your irritated face as it loosens your hair from the up-do. Your father throws an arms around you, Miguel trailing besides you as your father begins to walk out of the auditorium.

"Let's go get something to eat, I bet your hungry from doing all the twisting and turning."

You nod in agreement, your eyes moving over to Miguel. He smiles at you from the corner of his eye. He grabs your hand as your father begins rambling, clueless to his daughter and best friend.

Miguel gives your hand a squeeze and you hold the flowers a bit tighter.

[healmyhrt]

⌗ photobooth, n. sturniolo

nick x male!reader

summary: you share a sweet moment with nick in the photobooth at prom.

disclaimers!: kissing, mild cursing, use of y/n, short

a/n: i’ve never written anything nick related before, so i wanted to switch it up a little and give nicolas some love <3. tell me how i did, and feel free to leave constructive criticism!

i waited in line next to the photo booth, fidgeting with my fingers anxiously. it was senior prom, and i didn’t even have a date, so i wasn’t quite sure why i was at the photo booth anyway. memories, i guess.

i was a few couples and friend groups away from being next, when i hear a familiar voice call my name from behind me.

“y/n?”

i turn around, and i’m met with nicolas sturniolo, my crush. he grins widely when he sees my face, and leans in to give me a hug. the hug is quick, but i wish it could’ve lasted longer.

we both share a step back to look at each other’s outfits. nick was wearing a white button down, with black slacks and a velvet red tie. i look at his shoes, and he has black high-top converse on.

“i like that you went with comfortability before style.” i say, pointing to his converse, with a smile. he laughs and pulls up a pant leg to show the full shoe, and his funky socks. his socks were purple with black bats all over them.

“fuck yeah. always.” he replies. a few more people move up in the line, and nicolas and i proceed with our conversation as the line continues along.

“so who are you here with?” i finally ask. nick sighs, and looks at the ground. “nobody. not many openly gay boys here, unfortunately.” he replies with a shrug.

“same.” nick looks up and shares a small smile. we’re next up in the photobooth, and i hold the curtain open so nick can go in before me.

“why, thank you.” he says in a british accent. i bow dramatically in response. “of course, good sir.” i reply, mimicking his accent. he laughs, as i seat myself next to him.

i take an envelope out of my jacket pocket, and hold out a ticket. “how many photos did you pay for?” i ask. nicolas takes a ticket out of his pants pocket, and reads it.

“five.”

“me too! we could uh— we can double them, and each get the same five, if— if you’d like.” i stutter out. he smiles, and takes my ticket out of my hand, inserting them both.

“pick a frame!” the machine speaks to us, loudly, i might add. nick scrolls through the frames on the tiny screen, and stops on the pink frame with hearts all over it, that was titled “Love Burst”.

i nervously look at him, and he clicks on the frame, submitting it into the machine. the countdown starts, and i look at nick in panic for what poses to do.

he chuckles, and turns me around, putting his back against mine. we both cross our arms, and put on serious faces into the camera.

the next countdown starts, and we do the same pose, but this time holding up finger guns, and smiling.

“what pose now?” i question.

nick puts an arm around my shoulder, and takes my arm, putting it around his. he smiles into the camera, but i just look at him. i cant help but look at him.

the next countdown begins, and we don’t even realize it. nick turns his head to stare back at me, and i stare into his blue eyes, as his dark pupils dilate.

the camera makes a click sound that grabs our attention, and we realize that its the last one.

“last one.” nick says, turning back toward me. i nervously trail my eyes down from his eyes to his lips, and he definitely notices. “what pose now?” he asks, with a grin. he leans in closer to me, my eyes still on his lips.

“can i kiss you?”

nicolas nods, and i immediately smash my lips onto his. i feel like i’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life, and i honestly have. i’ve had a crush on nick since i was in the 6th grade, and here i was sharing a kiss with him in the photobooth at our senior prom.

the camera flashes, and i pull away, while a blush coats my cheeks. we step out of the booth, and collect our snapshots.

they looked perfect.

[ohsunnyboy]

to chase a dream | zhang hao ˚₊‧⁺˖

all your life, you and zhang hao have been chasing each other. you wonder here, if this is where your symphony ends.

TAGS: musician!au, gn!reader, rivals to lovers, angst with happy ending, suggestive!makeout

A/N: something about zhang hao called for dramatics so here i am (≧∇≦)ﾉ ! self-indulgent as usual :)

WORDS: ~1450, EXTRA: music info and terms here !!

"That was wonderful playing earlier."

History doesn't even begin to describe what you have between you two.

Your friends could joke that there would be enough to write an opera. Star crossed and all. All about the virtuosos of violin and piano. Of Zhang Hao and you.

You want to hark it back to those fitful days in grade school. Full days of comparing sheet music, trying to one-up each other about the difficulty. Hao, and his too big violin case and you, trouncing him every talent show because his hands hadn't quite yet grown out of their stubbiness. The satisfaction in remembering those big whiny tears brings warmth to your soul.

Then, there came high school.

Oh, you loathe it; he doesn't. Not when his hands became a study in lines and grace. Envy would eat you alive if you had any less pride. But you weren't so above yourself to not look at him. Hard to not notice when he grows a head taller and of course, starts topping the local competitions only to shove it under your face.

Your parents loved it. Gave a reason to push you further and deeper into competitions and over the top galas. To push your fire against someone who was all finely diced ice. There was nothing you liked less when you wanted to live for the glory of the crowd, not medals and flowers.

Eyes followed you everywhere when he was in the picture. And yours always found his.

"Here to mock me?" you ask.

The laugh you draw is enchanting. "Never." And it's so sincere you might just believe it. "Just here to say my farewells."

The Winter Gala spins behind both of you: through a door, down some ornate stairs and into a pit of some thoroughly drunk musicians. From the balcony, only the trickles of laughter and music eke out the door. But you would hardly focus on that, not when Hao stands very plainly in front of you.

"Already? it's only an hour into reception." You twirl the champagne in your hand with consideration before you gesture him to come to where you lean on the balcony rail. "Thought you would stay to kiss ass with some of the others."

"Not this time. No, I mean..." The howl of the wind carries his unease. Traffic horns and gala laughter do nothing to smother whatever he tries to hide in his tone. You know him too well.

There's more than history between you two.

But whatever he says next has you rethinking everything. "I'm leaving, leaving. I won't be back in the country for a while so, here I am."

There's a moment where you think he's entirely pulling your leg. Pulling you along to another little joke at your expense. But you've known him your entire life at this point, and you’ve been through too much to realize that he’s not joking.

“… Am I the first to know?”

You count the beats and steady your breath. Years of this, all for what?

“Only Minghao-Ge and Junhui-Ge, and now you. But knowing them, they’ll be drunk enough tonight to let it slip,” he explains in this awfully fond tone. “Mark Lee from the LSO watched me perform at the showcase in July and scouted for me. I think he got on Junhui-Ge’s nerves with how much he emailed him.”

Medals and flowers. Smiles and bows. The curtain draws, where are you now?

"Congrats," you say after a second – watching nothing but your past fly by you. Despite the ache, you raise your glass. "Cheers," you smile and take a sip. Raising it into the moonlight and offering the glass to Hao for his own toast but he just shakes his head.

You pout. "Don’t like it?”

Instead, he takes the glass from you and settles it onto the edge. Pink dusts his cheeks as watches you from the corner of your eye. “Want to remember this.”

Heat flares to your cheeks at the weight of Hao’s words. A night to remember is one way to put it.

"So, when are you off to London?"

"This Monday."

You blink. "... That's fast."

"Why? You think you'll miss me?" and it's said with that smile of his. Infuriating and secret, so many layers of discourse that haunt you – it’s a memory that you'll take to the grave.

"Of course, it's you," you mutter, disgustingly honest with yourself. "It'll just be... quiet, without your excuse of music causing a riot." Honestly, you can barely hear Hao's chuckle when you're too stuck in your head to mind the charm in it.

You want to edge back into your comfort zone of easy quips, nothing serious but scathing wit. But nothing you say lights the fight that used to start so easy back when you two were younger. When your worries were small like the cars below.

A full look at his face is all you want to chance a glance for. What would you see? Remorse? Eagerness? Disappointment? You could read him like a book with a single glance, what’s stopping you now?

"What about you? are you going to stay in Singapore? I thought you'd be the one to chase excitement."

"I’ll chase whatever my parents dangle in front of me.” And the laugh he breathes is empty because you both know it’s bitter but true. Hao’s stood aside long enough to understand. So, when he sidles closer next to you it warms you more than they ever did. "Yixing-Ge told me he's also planning to leave for Boston, promised me that I'll get his seat when it happens."

"If it happens,” he teases.

"It’ll happen."

You nearly jump when you feel it. Hao’s warm hand on top of yours. It’s spindly and calloused, worn out in the way a weathered musician’s should be. It’s all you need to guide you back to where you are.

"I know you'll make it. Just make sure it's something you want.” Hao’s breath is right next to your ear. Clear as day and easy as a song. It’s so simple to say: take what you want.  

Blood in your ears, chest heaving, nothing to catch you when you fall but the discordant crash of keys.

It sounds like a melody.

"It's never going to be something I want."

"Then, what do you want?"

You.

Instead, you turn to face Zhang Hao. A challenge of a smile on your lips because you know where this ends.

To face the music, the crowd, the eyes that watch.

"What's it like? to chase a dream?" you ask.

Brutal, visceral, freeing. An infinite number of interpretations for one word.

The stage becomes your world, and the spotlight burns you alive. Pressure flays your skin even as your fingers glide across smooth keys and you hush your heaving breath. Running to your last page, heart in your hands, smearing red across white. There's no audience when you dream; you are your own critic, you are your own end, but your destiny is not you.

To chase a dream is to become raw.

"Like chasing you."

You hum low and satisfied. Carding a hand through Hao’s hair, you guide him down.

Kissing Zhang Hao feels like being on stage all over again. Being set on fire, skin flaying, blood rushing. It’s everything he isn’t, but everything you are.

You swallow his groan, biting across his lips as your hands trail down him. Everywhere you've wanted to touch feels unbearable. You want to chase this feeling: Hao's hands on your hips and cradling your jaw. Trailing his red ears and holding around his throat; it's little fires everywhere.

Distance doesn’t exist as you push into each other. Hao has you against the rail, hands cradling you like you’re his own instrument. Playing you to pluck you into satisfaction.

Years of us, made for this final movement.

This ache and greed that makes musicians like you two come alive. You know Hao as your years of black and white keys that haunt your dreams and make your reality. There isn’t a crevice in his mind you haven’t touched or a melody that he’s played where he never thought of you.

You hold Hao by the chin, determination set into your eyes and a chord of steel in your tone. "There better be a future for us – I’m not having you leave me here in your past.”

"Anything," he breathes against you. More than history. More than a future. Chasing your dream. "Anything for you."

thanks so much for reading !! this was a tough one but i'm glad i wrote it ! if you enjoyed please like or reblog :D ⭒ masterlist

[showf4lls]

ʚ ― first snow ; slimecicle

info! fluff, minific / gender neutral reader

cw! no CWs

request! "Since you’re wanting slimecicle asks- how bout an x reader of spending a snow day with him?? Cute cuddles while watching a movie or something, but Charlie being the lovable goof he is would be so cute!!"

notes! reader is a lil bit whimsical in this, in that they're really in love with winter and the holidays. sorry if that's not you! it's not really me either, but i though it was a cute idea so i ran with it. also i feel like i don't usually write charlie this fluffy this is so wild

it was abnormally early for you to be showing up at charlie's place on a tuesday, but you couldn't find it in yourself to worry too much as you stood on his doorstep with a scarf wrapped up to your nose. you grinned beneath the scarf, trying not to stare too much at the powdery snow that littered his front yard. your breath came out in puffs from behind your scarf as you waited for him to come open the door. finally, it swung open. charlie grinned on the other side of it. "so the first snow, huh?"

you grinned back, cheeks aching as you shuffled into the warmth of his home. "the first snow, charlie! how exciting is that?" you exclaimed, clutching your bag in your gloved hands. you could barely contain your excitement as you kicked off your snow boots in the entryway.

"i know!" he agreed, holding your elbow so you wouldn't lose balance. he waited patiently as you shrugged off all of your layers until you were just down to your cozies. "so the first snow extravaganza begins! i know you said you had some ideas. what've you got?"

beaming, you reached into your bag and pulled out a box of mix. "cookies and a movie?" you asked, feigning uncertainty.

charlie clapped his hands together, delighted at the idea. "that's a wonderful idea. look at you, all big-brained," he praised, taking the box mix from you.

you rolled your eyes as you followed him into the kitchen. considering that the mix came out of a box, it didn't take very long to whip up the dough and get them in the oven. once they were on the rack and a timer had been set, you and charlie started setting up camp on the couch. you fluffed the pillows, gathered snacks, and piled blankets onto the couch together, waiting for the timer. you were just opening the curtains, making sure there would be a way for you to watch the falling snow during the movie, when the timer went off.

"i'll get it!" charlie yelled, dropping the blanket he was unfolding in favor of racing to the kitchen.

"you just want the first good cookie!" you called after him, unable to hide your fond smile.

"i'll bring you one too!"

a few moments later, charlie emerged from the kitchen, one cookie held between his teeth. another, he carried on a napkin like a silver platter. he bowed dramatically, presenting it to you as you sat comfily beneath the blankets. "for you, beloved," he said, smiling up at you.

you smiled softly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "thank you, good sir," you replied coyly, humoring his little act.

he watched intently as you bit into it. the chocolate chips melted on your tongue. the temperature was just perfect -- warm without being hot enough to burn you. you smiled up at him. "it's gooey in the middle," you said through a mouthful.

charlie fist pumped, whispering a quiet but victorious "yes" to himself. "good, i know that's how you like them."

you laughed softly, taking another bite. "well, thank you. that was very thoughtful of you."

he leaned down, giving you a quick kiss. "of course. no big deal. i like them better this way anyways. otherwise they come out crunchy, and no one likes crunchy cookies."

another laugh as you finished off the cookie and pulled the blanket closer to yourself. "yeah, alright," you said lightly. "now what do you feel like watching?"

"how would you feel about the grinch right now?" he asked, shuffling under the blankets with you.

you nodded. "i think i could do that right now. the version with jim carrey, right?"

"of course," charlie replied, already looking for the movie on some streaming service. "we don't talk about the other one in this house."

you giggled. "right. sorry, my bad."

charlie bumped your shoulder reassuringly as he scrolled through a search. a few minutes later, the beginning of the film was playing on your tv screen. it was nice, being like this with him. the perfect circumstances of the day, you with no work today and him with nothing planned, conveniently enough. "so far away," he mumbled, pulling you against his chest and slumping backwards against the arm rest.

"'m right here, love," you assured him, settling against his front. you reached for a pillow, hugging it against your chest as you leaned your head against him.

the rise and fall of his chest was comforting, almost making you feel sleepy with the safety of it. charlie yawned behind you and you rubbed soothingly at his arm. "this is really nice, charlie."

he smiled sleepily down at you, giving you a quick squeeze. "really?"

you hummed an affirmative, leaning your cheek against his shoulder. the angle was a little awkward, but the affection of it felt right. "really," you promised. "thank you. for this."

"of course," he said, voice soft yet full of certainty. he leaned forward to kiss the crown of your head, thumb tracing light shapes into the skin of your forearm. "anything for you."

[watermelonsugacry]

there must be no way that the boys didn't notice the obvious crush harry had on 1dbantmate!yn they must have had some clue after seeing them

Oh for sure and the thing was that they would help the two get away with a lot of stuff.

Like there was a period in 2012 where they weren't allowed to sit next to one another during interviews and press because their management didn't want them being distracted by constantly whispering to one another. Not to mention how it gave fuel for people to question and make assumptions about them being a couple.

So like when the band went to go sit on the Chatty Alan couch in their predetermined seating arrangement (Niall, YN, Zayn, Harry, Louis and Liam), Zayn was quick to slide up against Niall right before YN could sit down. He just wraps his arm around the blonde lad, looks up at YN and gives her a sweet smile.

She had no other choice than to sit next to Harry because the show was about to start in merely seconds. Neither one complained from their close position but Zayn sure got an ear full from management.

Or when they were on their 2nd world tour, Harry and YN find themselves squished together in her tour bunk on the tour bus. They're laying down side by side as they show each other funny Vines. But they both get startled when Liam passes their closed curtain, knocking loudly on the wood by their heads and says, "Richard's coming."

In an instant, Harry is rolling and throwing himself out of her bunk bed. He nearly loses his footing once he lands on the ground and scrambles into his own bed across from hers right before their management representative comes in for a surprise check-in.

There was a time on the same tour when the band was on the B-stage and they were answering fan questions where it involved them having to show off their "formal" dancing skills. YN brings her microphone to her lips and sassily asks, "Which one of yeh lads would a dance with yours truly."

All of the boys expect Harry all take a step back, making gross faces at the girl who they see as a little sister. Harry just shrugs and dramatically extends a hand out to her with a bow. She rolls her eyes but that doesn't stop the smile from forming on her face as she takes his hand. With a hand on her waist and hers on his shoulder, they waltz around the small stage while the fans scream their heads off.

When he spins her out and back in, she loses her balance and takes a tumble to the ground, rightfully pulling him down with her. They both laugh at their cliche position of him on top of her and if the fans weren't going absolutely crazy before, they sure are now.

Louis immediately notices Richard's hard expression at the two teenagers from his position off to the side of the stage, so he makes the quick decision to soften the blow. Gripping Liam and Zayn's arms, he leads the two of them to dogpile on their bandmates on the ground. Niall, with his thin self, practically flings himself on top of everyone.

There's plenty more that the boys do for their clueless bandmates:

Niall covers for them when the two are out in the hotel pool in the middle of the night during the On The Road Again tour.

Louis lies to Richard and says he was with YN and Harry when the two got their matching butterfly tattoos.

When the band was having an interview for their fourth album, Zayn discreetly leans forward in his seat to block the camera's view from capturing Harry's fingers playing with the ring on YN's pinky.

Liam goes on a stupid rant during their Made In The A.M. press conference about how nobody is truly perfect when someone asked Harry if their song Perfect was about anyone in particular, looking directly at YN.

SINCE 2010 masterlist

Taglist:

@wobblymug @be-with-me-so-happily @ashtongivesmebutterflies @kiwiskiwiskiwi @darlingdesire @obsesseddd @hopefulwastelandcreation @cacapeepee @breezie-b00 @harrysfolklore @theekyliepage @sunshinemoonsposts @nervousspiderling @tbslonelyhes @tenaciousperfectionunknown @harrystylesrecs @certified-nalayak @itsjustsel @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @gviosca @behindmygreyeyes @twobluejeans @allisonxmcu @theemeraldbutterfly @jean-love @marvellover-sam @b-reads-things @reveriehs @rach2602 @thurhomish @perrypughstyles @luvonstyles @mxltifxnd0m @teamspideyman @c00chiemonster @juiceboxrry @harringt8ns @folklorehrry @illicithallways @claramllera @eunoiaax @hoya122 @nichmedder @sleutherclaw @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit

[e-munson666]

Something worth Yearning For

++Jamie Campbell Bower x Actress!Reader++

(Your on Fallon With Jamie for the film you both recently stared in, and Jimmy prods at the status of your relationship)

Content/Warnings ⚠️:18+, language, pining, reader and Jamie have major chemistry, just overall fluffy.

🖤Lady Hellfire🖤

You ware pacing around your dressing room, trying hard to combat your nerves when you hear a light knock on the door.

"Are you ready love?" Jamies smooth voice seeps through the door. When you don't respond for a minute or so Jamie clears his throat, "I'm coming in okay?" He announces before slowly pushing open the door.

He sees you nervously wandering around the room, and he sighs. "Hey, you alright?" He asks, stepping in front of you before you walk passed him again.

"Jamie, I am so fucking nervous, this is my first big interview like this, what if I blow it? What if I say something stupid?" You blurt, words leaving your mouth before you can even catch yourself.

Jamie places a large hand on your shoulder, "Sweetheart, you will do just fine, Jimmy is a delight, he will make sure you feel comfortable out there, and I'll be right next to you" he assures, rubbing the place where his hand sat.

He takes a second to really look at you, now that you are in the process of calming down.

You were wearing a sickeningly tight crushed black velvet dress, it slid down your frame like it was glued there, trailing all the way down your body to your ankles. A long wide slit on the left side, revealed your gorgeous legs and sky high Stilettos.

You were covered in Beautiful black jewels, and a small silver skull ring that matched one on Jamies own hand. It was a gift he brought you on the last day you two filmed together, and you'd both kept them on ever since.

He looked up and caught sight of your reflections in the mirror next to him, you looked like a posh couple, and it was making Jamie swoon. You stepped forward and nuzzled your face into his chest. He quickly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

You stayed like that way for several minutes, before another knock startled you and you stepped back.

"Its time" says Jamies management, motioning for the two of you to follow. Jamie grabs your hand, offering it a reassuring squeeze before leading you out of the dressing room and towards the hall.

You stand in the prep area, a place right behind the big curtain you walk onto the set from. Jamie was thumbing the back of your hand as you waited nervously to be called on stage.

"Alright folks, up next we have a very special treat for you! Joining us know is the one and only Jamie Campbell Bower, and his beautiful costar Y/N"

The crowd cheers loudly as the two of you walk through the curtain, Jamie still gripping your hand. He leads you over to your seat, you wave and bow before the cheering fans, and next to you Jamie is showing you off, motioning to you before clutching his chest dramatically before sitting next to you.

"Jamie, Y/N!" Jimmy says excitedly as the crowd starts to quiet. "Thank you so much for joining us tonight"

"Thank you so much Jimmy, it's an honor to be here again" Jamie says, leaning over and shaking Jimmys hand. Jamie looks over to you before adding "its also an honor to accompany my lovely costar on her first Fallon appearance" he says, clapping his hands along with the groud, grinning widely in your direction.

"Thank you for inviting me Jimmy, I'm a huge fan" you add, blowing Jimmy a kiss and smiling.

"Well I have to say, the two of you look fabulous, don't they?" Jimmy says, causing another uproar of cheers.

Jamie bows in his seat, taking the compliment graciously. "I only look this good because she's sitting next to me, I can assure you" he chuckles, taking your hand once again.

You blush at Jamies words, giggling into your free hand, "thats quite the compliment coming from you Mr Bower" you chuckle.

For a moment Jamie and you just gaze at each other, forgetting the cameras and everyone in the room.

"I can't help but notice you guys are matching, was this intentional?" Jimmy pokes, noticing the looks between his two guests.

"I wish I could say it was, but it was just a lovely coincidence," Jamie replies, straightening his collar as he spoke.

"No I totally snuck into your dressing room earlier and snooped in your wardrobe actually" you joke, causing everyone in the room to boom with laughter.

"So, Jamie, Y/N" Jimmy starts, leaning onto his desk a little bit and pausing for dramatic affect.

"The fans can't help but notice how close you guys are, and someone sent us in this picture" Jimmy asserts, taking a large note card from his desk and flipping the picture into the camera view.

It was you and Jamie, holding coffees, leaning your heads together, little skull rings on display.

The crowd "oooooooooohhhhhhssss"

"So I have to ask, are you two an item? With all the evidence, it definitely looks like you are, right folks?" Jimmy booms, causing another loud cheer from the audience.

Jamie glances at you, sending a quick wink before turning back to Jimmy

"We are not together" Jamie says, causing the audience to groan in disappointment. "But trust me, I'm trying" Jamie adds cooly, chuckling at response the crowd gave. Jamie squeezed your hand again and you felt your face flush.

"Wow! Am I hearing this right" Jimmy began to say, but the rest of what he said was drowned out as you slipped into your mind.

Your heart was racing, and the words Jamie spoke to the crowd, to the cameras, hummed in your brain on repeat.

"Trust me, I'm trying"

*

*

*

*

A/N: as always my loves, please interact with this to let me know if you want more of this content. Decided to bust this one out tonight in honor of 260 followers, you are all amazing and you are very very much appreciated.

[athena-writes-i-guess]

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Prompt: Having a midnight picnic

You were in your room getting ready for bed when you heard a tapping come from your window, opening your curtains you found your boyfriend, Eddie’s, smiling face on the other end. You opened the window to let him in but he shook his head and stayed outside.

“Hi honey, what are you doing here?” You questioned quietly, it was late and you didn’t want to wake up your parents.

“What are you doing tonight?” He asked with a dimpled smile. You looked down at your sleep shorts and shirt, then at your clock that read 11:17pm.

“Well, I was going to go to bed.” You chuckled. “But I’m guessing you have other ideas?”

“Oh yeah, sweetheart. Get changed, we’re going to be outside.” He said before a slightly concerned look crossed his face. “That is, if you’re okay with that baby?”

You smiled brightly back at him. If only the people that were scared of this absolute sweetheart could see him like this. “Yeah that’s okay with me Eds. Gimme a second.” You said before walking to your closet to pull out some jeans and a shirt and started changing. Eddie sent you some quiet wolf whistles when you were just in your underwear, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at you when you sent him a joking glare.

Once you were done, you crawled out the window and scaled down the side of your house with Eddie’s help. He didn’t let go of your hand until he had got you all the way into the passenger’s seat of his van, a soft, sweet smile on his face as he looked at you before placing a quick kiss on your cheek.

Eddie quickly got in the van and grabbed your hand again once you were on the road, Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears was playing softly on the radio and he was quietly mouthing the words as he drove. You bit your lip to keep the big, goofy smile off your face as you watched him.

He looked at you quickly, noticing you staring, and sent you a smile. “Whatcha looking at sweet thing?” He asked.

“Are you singing Tears for Fears?” You questioned with a large grin.

“Yeah, you like Tears for Fears.” He said matter of factly.

“Yeah, I do. I didn’t think you did.” You chuckled.

“I like this song.” He said with a little shrug of his shoulders.

“Me too, sweet boy.” You said softly, you watched the almost shy smile appear on his face at your words.

You drove for a little while, until you made it to Lover’s Lake. You shot Eddie a confused look as he leaned to the back seat and pulled out a few plastic bags and a blanket. “We’re having a picnic.” He smiled back at you. “Wait, let me get your door.” He said quickly as you went to get out. You chuckled as he scrambled with the items and quickly opened your door, giving you a deep, dramatic bow as he helped you out.

He walked you to the edge of the lake before spreading the blanket out and gesturing for you to sit down. He dug into one of the bags and pulled out a few sandwiches, bags of chips, and your favorite soda. “I also brought some Twinkie’s for dessert.” He smiled as he sat next to you. “But I wanted to show you this.” He said, pointing to the sky.

You looked up and let out a small surprised gasp, your eyes having finally adjusted to the dark. Up above you the dark sky looked almost broken in half as the Milky Way cut across it. Colors of purple and white seemed to swirl amongst the millions of stars you could see. You watched in awe as some stars shot across the sky. “Oh Eddie! There are shooting stars!” You said excitedly, looking at your boyfriend with a beaming smile. “We have to make wishes!”

“I don’t need to make any, sweetheart.” He said with probably the softest look you had ever seen on his face. You felt yourself flush at the implied meaning behind his words.

“I don’t either.” You said confidently, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on his lips, completely in love with this sweet man.

Taglist: @srapalestina

Masterlist

[doingthingsthewriteway]

Home

Summary: The world starts changing for alpha!eddie. 

Warnings: language, some fictionalized oppression to omegas (but eddie is an ally) 

The rut was crawling all over him. Eddie knew it was only a matter of time before he’d have to leave school (and fall even further behind) so he could deal with it. He hated just dealing with it. As a matter of fact, he hated the whole damn classification system. 

Alphas were treated with all this superiority bullshit. Hot head, knot head, pig. Name it and alphas had been called it. What society failed to realize was alphas needed to be taken care of just like omegas. Well, not just like omegas, but some goddamn affection would be nice. 

So no, Eddie wasn’t looking forward to his rut. Not in the way that other alphas like stupid fucking Jason Carver did. Jason had a beautiful omega that Eddie would love to take for a spin. Instead, Eddie would spend the week locked away in his trailer with a porn mag and a six pack. 

His bones ached, his nerves shot. He was ready to snap at the poor little freshman that followed behind him after school. “All I’m asking, Eddie, is why we have to cancel Hellfire?” 

“Henderson.” The growl was unintentional but got the job done. “I’m going to Indianapolis to buy something for my job.” 

“Can I come?” 

“Are you trying to get me arrested?” Eddie rolled his eyes. “No. You’re going to stay here. We’ll have hellfire next week.” 

Eddie tossed his shit into his van and started hauling ass to Indianapolis. Every month he’d go to the Emergency Classification Clinic and get what he mentally referred to as “rut relief”. 

He was a regular there. His favorite nurse was Sarah and definitely not because she looked and was a similar age to his mom. Nope. Absolutely not. 

“Sarah! My darling!” Eddie bowed dramatically as she entered his room, closing the curtain behind her. “Here for my usual.” He flashed a wolfish grin. 

“Always a pleasure, Eddie.” She pulled out his chart. “Alright, rapid fire rounds: any changes since your last rut?”

“Nope.” 

“Sexual partners?”

“Just my hand and my Heavy Metal.” 

“Emotional changes?” 

Eddie paused wondering if he it was hot in this room or if he was blushing. Surely to god he wasn’t blushing. “Well, I mean, I wanted an omega this month. I can’t explain why.” 

Sarah offered a sad smile, making a note in his file. “That’s normal Eddie. It’s a normal thing to want someone.” She sighed. “I’ve got good news and bad news.” 

“Bad news first, always.” His right hand shook every so slightly. 

“This is your last refill.” She sighed. 

“No, no, no.” Curls shook with each denial. “Sarah, come on. Aren’t I a fucking danger to society unmedicated?” 

“New federal laws, pup. Family First initiative or whatever. The goal is to reduce suppressant use by increasing mated couples.” 

“Well shit, what good news is there?” Big brown eyes watered ever so slightly as he looked up at the older beta. “I have to have them. I can’t go through a rut alone. It hurts and- this might shock ya sweetheart- but omegas aren’t exactly lining up to mate The Freak.” 

Sarah poked her head out the curtain divider, checking the hallway. Seeing that everyone’s attention was still very much held at calming the omega and her distressed mother, she let out a weighted breath. “There’s an omega here. Mom’s a total bitch-“ Eddie snickered earning a pointed look from Sarah. “We’re concerned that the suppressant prescription isn’t something the omega wants.” 

“Match-making? Really?” His brows furrowed. “Wait- why is the omega with her mom?” 

“Unmated omegas are regulated on suppressants by their guardians.” 

“Shit, this is fucked up.” 

“Preaching to the choir, pup.” Sarah shrugged as she tossed Eddie his pill pack. “Just go give her a sniff on your way out.” 

Eddie tucked his pills in the pocket of his leather jacket as he headed down the halls of curtained rooms. Sniffing out the mystery omega wasn’t hard at all. Lavender, bourbon, and something citrus tickled his nose and sent a wave of something over him. 

“What am I supposed to do? She’s not some whore!” A shrill voice screamed at one of the nurses. 

Eddie dared a glimpse between the sliver of an opening from the curtain and the wall. The omega was cute, he wouldn’t deny that. He could smell the heat, thick and sweaty but not quite fully developed yet. 

Whore. The word bounced around in his head, igniting a growl of vibration in his chest. No one should call an omega that. Especially not some bat-shit beta. And what the fuck? Omegas were supposed to be treasured, right?

Right. He wasn’t sure what part of his brain was in charge (probably that feral alpha part that was horny as hell) but before he could stop himself, he’d yanked the curtain back. 

Her scent all but smacked him. The nurses’ eyes widened, freezing as Eddie entered the room. He didn’t know he was growling until the omega whimpered. 

“Shh, sweetheart.”

The omega’s eyes rolled open, a whine leaving her lips. Sweat beads were bubbling along the roots of curls on her forehead. “You’re an alpha?” She was drunk with heat already and fuck if Eddie didn’t pop a knot right then. 

The screaming mother beta turned to Eddie who sent a hard glare. A low rumble echoed from his throat. Despite their status, betas weren’t immune from the rumble of an alpha-especially one as wound up as Eddie. 

“It’s some bullshit that- what’s your name sweetheart?” The omega whined out her name, Eddie repeating it memorizing the way his lips moved as he said it.  “Y/N can’t make this decision herself.” 

“Nurses, I’d like him to leave.” “He stays.” 

Sarah definitely didn’t page the nurses upon hearing the plea of the omega. Nope. She was not contributing to this. Definitely not. 

“Name’s Eddie. I know I’m not much and I really don’t know you, but if you want these suppressants I’ll leave. If you don’t and your mother dearest is forcing you because she’s got conformist bullshit beliefs about omegas, then I’ll stay and make sure you get those pills. Or, I mean..”

A ringed finger stroked her cheek, he didn’t know how he got to her bedside but the pheromones she was releasing surely did it. “I mean, I could be your mate if you want them but don’t want to be treated like a goddamn second class citizen.” 

Y/N purred sending a wave of relief over Eddie. “Ya mean it?” She giggled then, softly as she watched his big brown puppy eyes sparkle. “I could have an alpha to take care of? My own?” 

It was a blur really, but Eddie scooped her up and carried her to his van. “I’ll build you the biggest nest I can and get you everything you possibly could want.” He tossed her the pill pouch. “Keep these in case I go psycho alpha but I don’t think that will ever happen with you around.” 

Y/N preened, snuggling into the passengers seat. “Where are we going?

“Home.”

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Across The Darkened Room {6}

Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader || Modern AU Summary: You comfort Aemond in the aftermath of what you learned of his past and ease the burden of his conscience. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, nudity, mentions of blood, emotional trauma WC: 2.4k

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven ||

After you drove Aemond back to his home, he had taken your hand and silently asked you to stay the night. You could not abandon him, especially when you looked in his eye and saw a shadow of the man you had come to know. So you had followed him to bed and wrapped him in your arms. 

You tried to stay awake until Aemond was asleep but you were drained both physically and emotionally from the long evening. You imagined he was feeling the same if the dark circles that ringed his eyes were anything to attest to. Exhaustion won as you drifted off half reclined upon a pile of pillows with Aemond’s head on your chest and his moonlit hair cascading over your skin. 

Watery grey light seeped through the curtains when you woke and reached for your phone. A groan worked its way up your throat as you realised it had only been an hour since you had crawled into bed. You rolled over in search of Aemond’s warmth only to find his side of the bed empty and cold.

The night air was cold but the underfloor heating was warm against the soles of your feet as you wrapped the sheet around you and went in search of him. The hall was dark when you stepped out of his bedroom but a slither of light escaped beneath a door at the far end. Your brows pinched at the sound of a violin drifting down the hallway, a slow sorrowful melody that was nothing like the pieces he had used to enhance your senses in the playroom. 

Aemond had enjoyed introducing you to the works of Vivaldi and Bach, though he preferred the dramatic build and crescendo of Vivaldi’s compositions more. You hadn’t listened to enough of the music to know what it was he was playing, or if it was even one of theirs at all, and after a moment you reached for the door.

You turned the handle and the music grew louder as you pushed the door open. 

Soft moonlight glowed through the huge pane of glass that filled one wall and Aemond was bathed in the light as he faced the turbulent sea beyond. The muscles of his back were tensed with ridges and valleys that shifted with each small movement and your eyes followed them until they disappeared into a pair of loose sweatpants that hung low on his hips. 

Aemond’s back arched as another long note drew out and then fell silent, the violin and bow falling to his sides limply as he dropped his head. His face was hidden from your view as his hair swung forward like curtains ending his performance and you froze, unsure of how he would feel about you seeing the vulnerable state you had not been invited to witness.

Your thoughts were erased as red drops of blood fell from the steel violin strings and you rushed forward at the muted thuds of them hitting the whitewashed floorboards. You carefully pulled the violin from his tight grasp and saw the four clean slices to the tips of his fingers, blood welling at each of them. 

Aemond didn’t say a word, he didn’t even seem to notice you as he stared at the whitecap waters outside.

You carefully placed the violin into the case that was open on a table before unhooking his fingers from the bow and laying it beside the violin. Aemond had not moved as he stared at the glass and you realised he was focused on his reflection, not the sea beyond. 

“Aemond,” you murmured softly as you took his bleeding hand and wrapped the sheet around it, “where is your first aid kit? I need to take care of you.”

His chest rumbled with a ‘hmmm’ and he slowly reached for your face with his unhurt hand until he cradled your cheek. “I’m meant to take care of you.”

“We can take care of each other.” His hand fell away at your words and he dropped his forehead to yours as he spoke a language you didn’t understand. “The first aid kit?”

Stirred from his murmuring, he blinked twice before he looked at the concern on your face and answered, “Garage.”

You were grateful it was somewhere you knew because you hadn’t spent a huge amount of time learning the maze of halls and rooms inside his mansion. But getting to the garage was familiar and he let you lead the way, gently tugging his hand when his steps faltered and silently encouraging him to keep going. 

The corner of the white sheet that was wrapped around his fingers was stained red and still spreading that you started to fear that he might need stitches, something that was beyond your capabilities. There was an audible sigh of relief when you opened the door to the garage and flicked the light on to the immense space. 

“Where is it, Aemond?”

The sheet fell away from your body as he moved ahead and wove through the lines of cars that filled the room, the forgotten material dragging across the floor behind him. Cool air washed over your skin and you shivered at the loss of warmth before rushing to catch up with him.

He pressed his palm to a panel on the wall and a door you hadn’t noticed before slid silently open and revealed a workshop of some sort. The walls and bench space were filled with tools and car parts but Aemond ignored them all as he pulled a red box out from beneath one bench, a white cross covering the lid. 

“I didn’t know you could work on cars,” I admitted as I took the box and pondered what car was hidden beneath the tarpaulin in the centre of the room.

“I don’t, not really,” he uttered tiredly as he leant against the bench and stared at the cover. “There’s just one car.” 

The silence was heavy but you ignored it as you opened the box and grabbed a few alcohol wipes to disinfect the cuts before wrapping a bandage around each finger. The cuts weren’t as deep as you had thought and the bleeding was already slowing but his sheet was absolutely ruined and you dumped it straight in the trash can.

You clicked the lid shut and pushed it back under the bench while Aemond continued to stare at the hidden car. Your curiosity grew with the passing moments but you wouldn’t dare ask because if your gut was right then what was hidden caused Aemond an unimaginable amount of pain.

“It’s a Bugatti,” Aemond said suddenly as he pushed off from the bench and tore the tarpaulin away. You didn’t know a lot about cars but from the size of it you knew it must have had a hugely powerful engine and the carbon grey panels were sleek and shiny. At least on one side.

You gasped as you walked around the car and found the driver's side was mangled and torn. “Is this…?”

Aemond nodded, confirming your fear, as he ran his bandaged fingers over the badge at the back and you joined him so you could read the name of the car, Vhagar. “Top of the line supercar - the only one in the world.”

His foot lashed out and he kicked the personalised number plate that read AEMOND-1-I before he turned away like it hurt him too much to look at it any longer. You wished you could take the ache away from him and the weight that the accident bore on his soul but all you could offer was an embrace as you wrapped your arms around him. 

“You don’t have to answer this, but I have to ask,” you said as you peered up from where your cheek rested on his chest. “Why do you keep it?”

“I can’t get rid of it.” He whispered as he returned the embrace and wrapped his arms around you. “I need to remember. I need the reminder of what happens when I let my anger get the better of me, of when I lose control, and why I can never let it happen again.”

“Oh Aemond,” you sniffled as tears pricked your eyes and tightened your hold on him. “I wish you could see just how much you don’t need this.”

He broke the embrace first so he could cover the car over once more before taking your hand and leading you back to his room.

The dark seemed too harsh for what had transpired two floors below and you opened the curtains wide so that the moonlight eased the shadows. The seas were still rough but the sounds of their crashing upon the shore were ambient in the background as you lay tucked in Aemond’s arms, your head resting on his shoulder. 

“Thank you for sharing your past with me, I know it mustn’t have been easy.”

Aemond’s fingers danced along your spine soothingly as he stared at the sea. “No one outside of our family knows what really happened. I thought I would never be able to talk about it, or that if I did I would be deemed a monster. But, you’re unlike anyone I have ever met, Sweeetpea, I knew you were different from the moment I laid my eye on you. I can be myself with you, without judgement. You make me feel safe.”

“I’m no therapist, but I think you need to talk about it more. It is obvious this has been weighing heavily on your shoulders for years but it was an accident, Aemond.” You stroked the soft hairs on his chest and followed the silver trail to his abs. “Whenever you are ready I will listen, without judgement, because you are safe with me.”

–

It was like deja vu waking up to find Aemond’s side of the bed empty but this time you could hear his voice carrying on the warm breeze that drifted in from the balcony. He looked like a god with his hair billowing behind him and those sweatpants hanging so dangerously low on his hips. You could happily watch him doing any mundane activity and it would still make your heart beat out of your chest. 

He noticed you were awake as he paced back across the balcony and an immediate smile brightened his face before he made his goodbyes and ended the phone call. 

“Morning, Sweetpea,” he greeted with a kiss as he caged you in his arms. 

“You look…” you weren’t sure what the exact word was that you were looking for, only that he looked lighter than he did the night before, “rested.” 

His lips pulled into a smile and he dipped his head shyly as he murmured, “I feel better than I have in a long time.” The doorbell suddenly rang and the smile quickly faded as he hesitantly pulled back to sit up and run his hand through his hair. “Can you come with me to get that?”

“Of course.”

You were a little confused as you quickly threw on some clothes that were kept in Aemond’s wardrobe and followed him down the stairs to the front door. Your confusion only grew when he opened it and led one of the two strangers to the garage before hitting the remote to open the doors up. 

“You sure about this, sir?” the man with a clipboard and pen asked as he handed them over to Aemond.

Aemond looked at you and took a deep breath before signing his name at the bottom of the form and hanging it back. “Absolutely, I don’t need it anymore.”

A loud beeping came from a truck that was parked on the driveway and the other man who had been at the door started to reverse it up to the garage and unravel a large winch. “What a waste,” he muttered under his breath as he connected it to the back of the Bugatti Vhagar and began towing the supercar onto the flat back of the tow truck.

“Aemond,” you gasped, too stunned to continue as he stepped up behind you and curled his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I didn’t sleep last night, I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said and you were right.” His lips teased your nape with gentle kisses as he made his way to your other ear. “I don’t need the car to remind me to stay in control. I have you and I never want to lose you or scare you away. Everytime I look into your eyes it will serve as a reminder to be better, because I never want to see you flinch from me again.”

In all honesty you had forgotten the rough sex in the wine cellar and you couldn’t even feel the bruises that probably spotted your back but you recalled how for a moment he had lost himself. It was only a moment but for him it was another misstep on the narrow path he set for himself. 

You turned in his arms and tilted your head in contemplation as you enjoyed the sharp angles of his jawline and the high cheekbones that would make a model envious. “Was it my favourite sexcapade? No, it doesn’t even make the top ten. But did I say dracarys? No, Aemond, because it wasn’t more than I could handle. You controlled yourself and I know that if I said dracarys you would have stopped in an instant because I trust you. I. Trust. You.”

His shuddering breath of relief was drowned out by the truck starting again and you turned to see the grey beast shimmering in the sunlight as it was taken away. 

When it disappeared from sight the gates swung closed and Aemond led you back inside to the central staircase. You stepped up but you hand caught and you frowned as Aemond stood at the stairs that led down.

“You haven’t slept all night, you should go to bed,” you said as you looked up the pillar to where the master bedroom awaited.

“Oh, Sweetpea,” he said with a dark chuckle that ignited fire in your veins, “it’s cute when you think you can give me orders.”

A shiver rolled down your spine with a pleasant tingle and your chin dipped in obedience before you followed him down the stairs to the playroom that had been built in the basement. He stopped at the door with his key in hand and looked over his shoulder to see you waiting meekly with your hands at your side completely at ease with him as he took control once again.

He nodded to himself after a moment, knowing you would be his compass and guide him back if he were to get lost. “I trust you too.”

Click here for part seven.

Taglist: @scxrletwitches , @shelbyteller , @girl-with-an-orange-cat , @crispmarshmallow , @itsemy01 , @boofy1998 , @wondergal2001 , @percyjacksonspeen , @ebaylee422 , @namoreno , @the-jess-life , @undeniableadrenaline , @1950schick , @dothrckis , @julczimozart , @sophiexoxsblog , @liathelioness , @natashaxhellenic , @caramelcandescence , @wooya1224 , @eralen , @thewew , @meggiemay82 , @leahjean , @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @lj127 , @arcielee , @iiamthehybrid , @joliettes , @ohitsthemaster , @lilostif16 , @malfoytargaryen

[fluffansmut-old]

Could you maybe write something about Dom!Nancy x reader? Or possibly Dom!Ronance x reader? maybe add in overstimulation, praise kink, some dumbification, and maybe Nancy has a mommy kink?

Take it like a good girl. 

Summary: When Nancy and Robin give their bratty and needy sub a punishment that she won’t forget for a while.

Content warnings: Ronance x reader, mommydom! Nancy, Softdom!Robin, bratty!reader, praise kink, dumbification, overstimulation, oral, fingering, sextoys (dildo and vibrator), nipple play, nipple sucking, oral fixation, light bondage (wrists tied)

18+ minors dni!!

Word count: 4365

•Fic is also posted on ao3•

Masterlist

It had all started when you and Nancy picked up Robin from work.

You were needy for your doms and missed them both like crazy when they were away, so of course you threw yourself in Robin's arms as soon as you saw her.

She smiled at you and kissed your lips, before complementing the pink bow, tied in your hair.

“It is pretty isn't it?” Nancy added then, “We decided to look extra cute for you today, didnt we?”

The dumbifying tone that Nancy used made your brain all fuzzy and you felt the need to be even closer to Robin, so you grabbed ahold of her and pulled you closer to you. You slid your hand down over Robin's ass and squeezed.

“Hey there, ms. travel-hands, where do you think you're going?” Robin said, as she took your hand in hers, she brought your hands up to her lips and kissed your knuckles.

“But Rooobin, I wanna touch you.” you whined. Which earned a quick, alarming; “Behave” from Nancy. You grumbled a bit.

“Later baby, I promise, now be a good girl and listen to Nance.” Robin said and kissed your now pouty bottom lip.

“Buuuut, later is ages away!” you said, now looking towards Nancy. She took a step towards you and grabbed ahold of your chin, tilting your chin up until your eyes met hers.

“ You quit your whining, okay?” she said.

“Okay mommy” you mumbled, barely audible for anyone other than you and Nancy.

“Good baby” she said and pressed a kiss to the top of your head before she let go of your chin.

It got worse when you got bored as Nancy was trying on a heap of work appropriate skirts and blouses for what felt like an eternity.

“This is booooring” you sighed dramatically and threw yourself backwards on the bench you were sat on, landing with your head in Robin's lap.

“She'll be finished soon enough.” Robin said and ran her thumb soothingly over your cheek.

“But I don't want to sit here and just wait.. can't I just wander for a bit?” you said and rose from the bench.

“You're here because I need your advice, now quit whining and sit your ass down before I pull you over my lap right here in the dressing room.” Nancy said from the other side of the curtain.

You thought about sneaking away, since Nancy wouldn´t immediately see, but Robin of course knew what you were thinking.

“You heard Nance.” she said. “Cmere”

She pulled you down in her lap. Now you were trapped until Nancy finished.

She opened the curtain and showed you a blazer and skirt combo that both you and Robin gave a thumbs up. On her way back though she didn’t close the curtain entirely all the way which gave you quite the show of Nancy undressing.

You watched as her back muscles flexed, as she turned around you watched as her perfect tits came into view, only covered by a thin, purple, lace bralette.

The view combined with the heat from Robin's body beneath brought on a familiar tingle. Now you truly tried to be discreet, but Robin noticed straight away what you were trying to achieve, squirming around on her lap.

“Hey princess, I would stop that if I were you.” Robin warned, knowing ultimately that the stricter of the two doms would hear as well.

“But Robin, I need you.” You said, turning towards her, you ran a hand down from Robin´s shoulder, towards her boob.

Robin was about to protest when the curtain opened.

“Get up brat.” Nancy said, emerging from the dressing room in her own clothes. You flew up at the sound of her words.

After that she turned towards Robin.

“Take her back to the car, I´ll catch up with you.”

The car ride had been mostly silent, you didn't dare to say a word, knowing a punishment was awaiting.

Nancy´s jaw was tense during the entire car ride, which showed how little patience she had left.

inside the empty Wheelerhouse the three of you made your way up the stairs towards the bedroom that all were so familiar with.

Nancy didn’t have to say a word, she simply pointed towards the bed and you said down.

“Now Robin, what are we about to do with this brat?” Nancy said, and placed a hand under your chin, tilting your head up. “She obviously can’t control her hands or her mouth”

“She also seems to have some trouble that was worth wiggling about for,” Robin said, reminding Nancy.

“Such a desperate little brat, we’re going to have to look into that then won’t we?” Nancy said with a smirk. “But let’s take care of these wandering hands first”

Robin nodded and you thought about what they were about to do…

You knew of the “pleasure chest” that Nancy had under her bed, you pretty much knew it’s content by heart, and among the sextoys in there you had seen a small whip and a blindfold… but no handcuffs or rope. So what were they about to do with your hands?

But when Nancy began to undo your bow you realised.

“I’m gonna need this” she said, you whimpered a little in response. You still wanted to look extra cute for the two of them.

As if she read your mind Robin said:

“You look just as cute without it”

She pecked the top of your head as Nancy came around and ordered you to hold out your hands.

The brunette was quickly with her hands,wrapping up your wrists, tying them together.

Once she was finished she squatted down in front of you, looking you in the eyes.

“Now I expect you to keep quiet, you can whimper, you can moan, you can cry if you want to, but not a single word should come out of that mouth unless it’s a safeword, have I made myself clear?” She said.

You nodded, feeling unsure about whether you should answer her aloud or not.

“You can always confirm with words baby” Robin said, once again reading your mind.

“Yes mommy.” You replied, looking at Nancy.

“Good girl princess” Robin said, praising you.

“Now I expect you to stay good.” Nancy said, running a hand over your hair. “or else I will find a way to gag you.”

Your eyes widened at her words and you looked at Robin.

“Oh yeah, she means it.” she said, and leant towards you. “Now be the good girl I know you are.”

Nancy instructed you to lay down in the middle of the bed, then she attached your bound arms to the headboard.

“Now let's see what all that wiggling was about?” Robin said and with a nod from Nancy she pulled off both the jeans you had on and your panties in one swift movement. You gasped a little at the cool air coming in contact with your lower half.

“I suspect that this little brat is a bit wet and needy or what do you think?” Nancy said as she glanced at your cunt.

“I mean there is only one way to find out.” Robin said. “Spread your legs a bit baby”

You did as told as Nancy and Robin took place at the foot of the bed.

“Lets take a closer look.” Nancy said and ran two fingers down your slit, then spreading your lips apart, exposing your clit and entrance to the two women watching you.

You felt heat rise to your face, it felt so good and so embarrassing at the same time, all in a mix that somehow made you even more turned on.

“Isnt that gorgeous?” Robin said. Nancy hummed agreeingly.

“It's so sensitive, I mean look at this.” Nancy lightly brushed over your clit, which made your muscles pulsate as you let out a whimper. You wanted to beg for more but knew better.

“I wonder what it tastes like,” Robin said, looking at Nancy with a sparkle in her eye. It was a question that you knew that she knew the answer to.

It was at that moment when you realised what this punishment was going to be all about, they were going to make you cum until you weren't able to know your own name.

And it was all going to start with Robin Buckley's very skilled tongue.

“Try it for yourself.” Nancy said, keeping her fingers on you stead as Robin lowered her face towards your aching cunt.

Your thighs instantly twitched as Robin's tongue met your clit.

“Keep still, pretty girl.” Nancy said and laid a hand on your thigh. You let out a low moan, and Nancy chuckled. “I know baby, She is that good.”

Nancy removed the hand from your cunt as Robin took over, flicking your clit relentlessly with her tongue as she started to circle your hole with her finger.

“Fuck you taste so good baby” Robin moaned, a moan which vibrated through your core.

Nancy moved her way up the bed, beginning to unbutton your blouse, pulling down your bra to expose your tits.

”There they are,” Nancy said, smiling up at you, she leaned down towards your nipples, blowing cool air on them before she took one in her mouth, biting lightly on the sensitive bud.

It was unusual, Nancy’s lips on your nipples, it was usually the other way around, your lips attached to Nancy (or Robins) nipples (or fingers) to satisfy your oral fixation.

Nancy alternated between nipples as Robin worked her magic, bringing you closer to orgasm by the second.

“She is getting close, Robin,” Nancy warned. “Keep going.”

Robin put her lips around your poor aching clit and plunged two fingers into you as Nancy flicked her tongue over one of your nipples and pinched the other.

You felt the coil in your stomach tighten and then it felt like it snapped as Robin sucked hard on your clit. It was like a shockwave that went through your entire body, your legs shook and you arched your back pulling on the restraints.

Every moan imaginable escaped your lips and you really had to hold back to not let words slip out with it.

“Keep pumping those fingers for me.” Nancy said as Robin's head came up from between your legs.

Robin did as Nancy asked, keeping the two fingers inside of you brushing lightly but relentlessly against your g-spot.

Nancy hopped off the bed and disappeared down under it, to retrieve something.

“You did so good for me, baby” Robin praised, running her other hand up and down your inner thigh reassuringly. “Came so hard, doing so very well, this feels nice right?”

You nodded, slowly feeling the coil in your stomach build up again.

“You can take out the fingers now” Nancy demanded, and Robin obliged. Leaving your cunt empty and pulsating.

“My turn” Nancy said with a mischievous smirk and took Robin place at the foot of the bed.

You who now were without stimulation started to pull your legs together trying to create some friction, but Nancy of course noticed immediately and brought down her hand popping you hard on your inner thigh, making your eyes water slightly.

“I thought I told you to keep still?” She said, tone stern. You shrunk into the pillows behind you, feeling embarrassed for being scolded at.

Nancy pinched the hood of your clit, just holding it, making you whine and whimper even more from the lack of friction. But instead of paying you any attention she turned to Robin.

“I brought out the surprise, I know you said it might be better to wait, but I think this is the perfect moment” Nancy said.

You had no idea what she was talking about, but apparently Robin did.

“Are you sure she can take it?” Robin questioned.

You swallowed hard at the question, what were they going to do?

“We’re just gonna have to make sure of that now won’t we?” Nancy said ruthlessly. “Now since she obviously can’t keep still then we’re gonna have to help her with that”

Robin only nodded in response and got to work immediately. She detached your still bound wrists from the headboard and placed herself in between you and it.

She threaded your arms over her own head, so now you were back against Robin's chest, wrists resting at the nape of her neck. She then grabbed ahold of your thighs, spreading your legs even wider.

“Gotta spread wide for mommy, princess” Robin said into your ear, you moaned in response.

Nancy got comfortable in between your legs and started to circle your entrance with her pointer finger.

“Now this is mommy’s favourite view” Nancy stated, looking at you, spread eagle, whiny and needy for her. “You’re just so gorgeous like this, and so responsive to everything I do”

As she said the word she flicked over your clit once making you spasm and moan.

“Now let’s see how many fingers mommy can fit in here?” she said, easily sliding in the finger that was circling your entrance.

You whimpered at the feeling, it was good but nowhere near enough.

“That’s one. Is that enough for you baby?” Nancy asked, you shook your head against Robin's shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Nancy chuckled and added another one. “How about two?”

You moaned at the familiar feeling of Nancy's fingers inside you.

“Yeah that's better” Nancy said agreeing with your moans, “But I’m think you can take three, easy”

You nodded at her suggestion, feeling needy for more.

Nancy pulled out the two fingers and plunged three back in. You moaned loudly and Robin kissed your cheek.

“You are doing so well princess,” she said.

“How do you feel about three?” Nancy asked, as she scissored her fingers inside of you, making your moan hitch in your throat.

“I can tell you like it by the way you cling to my fingers baby” Nancy said, running her nails against your inner thigh as the three fingers pumped in and out of you getting slicker by the minute.

“Now to prepare you properly for mommy’s surprise I’m gonna add a fourth finger okay?” Nancy announced and you felt yourself tense up a little, it wasn’t something you had done before, usually three fingers were equivalent to the size of your usual strap on.

“You can take it, I know you can,” Robin said, placing a kiss on your cheekbone.

“There we go, you are doing so well for mommy” Nancy praised as she fitted four of her fingers inside of you.

It felt unusual and incredible at the same time, you felt the coil in your stomach build intensely and you wanted to cum again.

Nancy could tell, of course she could.

“You wanna cum baby?” She asked, you nodded vigorously, arching your back as she plunged her fingers deeper into you.

“You can cum, princess,” she said, “just know that I’m not done with you yet.”

You didn’t need any more permission than that, the tight coil in your stomach snapped and once again you came.

As you came down from the high Nancy withdrew her fingers, you now used to the feeling of them filling you up, whimpered at the loss.

“Feeling empty baby?” Robin murmured into your ear, which earned another whine from you in response.

“I would be careful with the whining, you never know what you’ll receive..” Nancy warned as you fiddled with something that you couldn’t see.

When she returned to her spot in between your thighs she had a vicious smile.

“Ready to see mommy’s surprise baby?”

You nodded and Nancy presented a large silicone dildo in a faint tinted purple colour.

You felt both shocked and turned on at the sight,

But it was so big, would it even fit?and if I didn’t would you disappoint your doms?

Robin picked up on your doubt and started peppering kisses to the side of your face.

“Relax for me princess, now just keep your legs spread and take it like a good girl.”

You relaxed into her reassurance as Nancy started to run the dildo up and down your slit, brushing against your clit as she lubed up the dildo with your own slick.

“Ready to take mommy’s cock, pretty girl?” Nancy asked as she aligned the dildo with your entrance.

You nodded, both Nancy and Robin reminded you of your safeword as the brunette started to work the dildo into you.

She worked in sections, giving you some time to adjust and soon enough the entire thing was inside you, you felt it grace your cervix and the constant pressure on you g- spot was almost too much.

“That's it, good girl” Nancy said as you took the entire dildo. “Now let’s see if mommy’s cock can make you cum”

Nancy began ruthlessly working the dildo in and out of you at a quick pace. The overwhelming pleasure brought tears to your eyes and soon enough they were running down your cheeks at the same pace as the moans that left your lips.

“Happy tears princess?” Robin asked to which you nodded.

“Awh my little baby, crying because she loves mommy’s cock so much” Nancy said as she picked up the pace now pounding the dildo into your greedy cunt.

It took all the little self control that you had to not scream out at the intense pleasure you felt.

“Wanna cum on mommy’s cock?” Nancy asked and you nodded repeatedly. “Okay baby, but not until I say, okay sweet thing?”

You nodded again and tried your best to not cum that very second.

“I’m gonna count down okay baby? Three, two, one, cum for me”

And you did, it felt like fireworks and explosions set off inside you as Nancy pumped the dildo in and out of you.

You let out an inhuman noise brought on by pure pleasure and both Nancy and Robin smiled when they heard it, taking immense pride in being the ones making you feel this way.

“Hey, baby you there?” Nancy asked, rubbing her hands on your thighs. “You can answer me with words”

“Uh yes, god,I’m here” you moan, throwing your head back against Robin's shoulder.

“Good, good baby, you took that so very well” Nancy praised, and Robin was not far behind.

“Our best girl, doing so very good for us.” She said.

Nancy slowly eased the dildo out of you and you felt both relieved and a bit empty, your brain clouded with your Dom’s and their praise.

You wanted to hear it again, you wanted to cum again.

Nancy turned her attention back to you when she put the dildo aside.

“Now I think this little bud is feeling neglected aren’t it?” She said, and pinched your clit.

You shuddered a little at the oversensitivity that you felt but nodded at her question.

“I have something to help with that” she said and

pulled out your favourite vibrator.

She switched it on a low setting but didn’t press it up against you immediately.

Instead she looked at Robin.

“Now do you remember what the record is for the amount of orgasms in one session?” Nancy asked.

“I believe it’s four, isn’t that right princess?” Robin responded looking down at you.

You almost missed what she said as you focused on the vibrator in Nancy’s hand. But when you realised you nodded.

You remembered the time you reached four, you had almost fainted from pleasure and oh god it had been worth it.

“Now I’m thinking we push it,” Nancy said, finally bringing the vibrator down to your clit. “How do you feel about six?”

You didn’t reflect on it for long, the part of your brain desperate to please and the vibrations on your clit decided for you.

You nodded.

“You are amazing, baby,” Robin said and kissed the top of your head.

“Okay, I won’t stop until you either reach six orgasms or you call a safeword okay? It’s up to you baby.” Nancy said and then she turned up the intensity, and you felt yourself disappear into your own head, feeling fuzzy and complete.

Robin noticed you drop into subspace completely and let go of the grip that she had on your thighs. She knew that in this state you wouldn’t do anything but obey.

As she suspected, you kept your legs spread. Her fingers came up to your nipples, flicking them.

“You are doing so well.” She murmured into your hair.

Nancy nuzzled the vibrator closer to your clit and you let out a deep moan.

“You are a very good girl, are you getting close, baby?” Nancy said,

You nodded your head and moaned some more.

“Cum for us baby” Robin said and you didn’t need much more encouragement than that.

The orgasm pulsated throughout your entire body and in that moment it felt like it would never stop, but eventually you started to come down from

your high, but in that moment Nancy increased the intensity and pressed the vibrator impossibly closer to you.

“Give me another one, right away baby I know you can do it.” Nancy encouraged.

Your clit felt like it was on fire and your brain was so cloudy that you couldn’t really tell what was up and down at that moment.

“Oh fuck mommy. More, more, more.” You moaned out, totally forgetting that you weren’t supposed to talk.

Robin glanced at Nancy trying to gauge her reaction.

“Shut her up will you?” Nancy said and nodded towards you before she started to rub the vibrator up and down, bringing you closer to the expected multiple orgasm.

Robin nodded towards Nancy and then turned towards you.

“Open up for me princess” Robin said and within seconds your mouth opened and you took two of her fingers with ease, moaning around them.

Your fifth orgasm came not a minute later and it was if possible even better than the one before.

“You are doing so well, only one more left” Robin said.

Nancy let you come down a little more after this orgasm but to your surprise she plunged 3 fingers into your sensitive cunt, instantly attacking your g-spot as she kept the vibrator steady on your clit.

If Robin's fingers weren’t in your mouth then you would have cursed out loud, but now you just whimpered and moaned around them.

“Cmon now princess, cum hard one last time for mommy, you have been so good for me today, one more and we’re finished.”

It was those words that did it for you, cause it was Nancy who you had disappointed today and now here with a desperate need to please her you did everything you could to hear her say that, to have mommy call you a good girl.

You felt the orgasm build up inside you again but this time something felt different, it was even more intense and suddenly the coil snapped and you cried out around Robin's fingers, with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Holy fuck Princess” Nancy said, looking shocked at her hands and the vibrator still pressed against your aching cunt.

“What?” Robin asked, she had been occupied with looking at your face as you came.

“She squirted Rob” Nancy said, smiling proudly as she switched off the vibrator.

“I’m so proud of you princess” Robin said and kissed your forehead. She then slowly removed her fingers from your mouth which only resulted in more tears and whining from you.

She untied your hands and kissed your temple once more.

You were euphoric, overwhelmed and sobbing at the same time,

You needed reassurance from Nancy, because she was the one to initiate this punishment and all the guilt you felt was towards her.

Robin knew this and knew that her words wouldn’t really work to calm you down and bring you back, so instead she got out of bed.

“I’ll go prepare and then I’ll be back” Robin said to Nancy, pecking her on the lips.

“I’ve got her” Nancy reassured and then Robin disappeared into the bathroom.

“Cmere, mommy’s here baby” Nancy said, turning all her attention towards you.

She position herself beside you and you crawled into her arms,

“I’m sorry mommy, for being a brat” you sobbed,

Nancy kissed the top of your head and ran a hand over your hair as she wiggled out of her top and unclasped her bra.

“It's okay, baby it’s all okay, you did so good, you were mommy’s and Robin's good girl, taking everything we gave you like the perfect girl you are.” She reassured and tried to tilt your head up to make eye contact with you as she said it. But you were still near hysterics coming down from it all. “Princess, do you need to be extra close to mommy?” Nancy asked seriously, This wasn’t the first time it had happened.

“Mommy” you whimpered, which answered the question.

“Cmere baby.” Nancy guided your lips to her nipple and you took it in your mouth immediately, you sucked on it, feeling Nancy’s calming body heat against yours, it also forced you to even out your breathing. Nancy ran her hand over your hair and whispered reassuring words.

Robin reappeared and saw you and Nancy on the bed, you with your eyes half open, mouth around Nancy’s nipples, clinging to her with an arm around her waist. With her reassuring you of how loved you were.

She tiptoed in, she had a damp washcloth, some water and chocolate as well as a soft robe for you with her.

“Did we push her too far today?” She whispered to Nancy.

“Nah, she just needs a little extra time today. We fucked you out completely, didn’t we baby?” Nancy replied, directing the last question towards you.

You hummed in response.

“I’ll wait a little until I’ll clean you up then baby, okay?” Robin said, taking place on the other side of you, hugging you from behind.

You then softly murmured:

“I love you two.”

“We love you too”

[flyingwargle]

spoilers for archon quest act i: prelude of blancheur and noirceur

the traveler leaves with heavy footsteps. paimon chirps a hesitant farewell before following, and lynette gives a small wave. she glances at her brother, whose head is bowed, shoulders slumped, breaths uneven. “lyney?”

he pivots and walks away. lynette walks behind him. one, two, three, four. his fifth step falters, his sixth step reduces him to his knees. he presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, shuddering as he releases a long exhale. his words tremble as he murmurs, “i didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

“i know.”

“i never wanted the traveler to find out.”

“i know.” she rests her hand on his shoulder. his body shakes beneath her touch. once the curtain has fallen and the audience has left, that’s when his mask comes off and unveils the anxiety and fear accumulated beneath the spotlight. “lady furina did it for dramatic effect. that’s all.”

“that’s what angers me the most. it…it had no relevance whatsoever, and yet…” his anger simmers like a stew left on the stove for a moment too long. the longer it remains, the more ruined it becomes. “no one needed to know, and now they do. i imagine there’ll be a swarm of reporters waiting for us.”

and he’s too exhausted to handle them. lynette, despite her stoic coldness, is also on the same tightrope of poise and fatigue, but she must remain level for both their sakes. “we’ll stay here until they leave. you won’t be able to get up, anyway.”

“ah…sorry…” it’s happened before. during a high-profile operation, their plans had derailed, and it was only thanks to his quick wit that allowed all of them to escape alive. once the adrenaline had receded, he fell ill to a severe fever.

it’s been a long time since that happened.

they stay on the floor, wrapped in one another’s silence, hidden in the shadows. the audience doesn’t notice them as they exit the opera house, occupied with gossip, dramatic reenactments, and their own speculation. why did lyney go through the vent? who did the thief steal the ticket from? why was the number machine rigged for that particular seat? how did the tank drop from the ceiling?

could the other young women who disappeared also dissolved into water?

lynette flattens her ears. she refuses to listen further.

finally, when all seems to have settled down, footsteps echo in the dust. a shadow approaches nearer and nearer, until they tower over them. “monsieur lyney. mademoiselle lynette.”

“monsieur neuvillette.” lynette greets him when her brother doesn’t.

“does your brother require medical attention?”

“no need to be concerned,” he chirps, head turned away, hands pressed together to mitigate their shaking. his upbeat tone is a little too sunny. “i’ll be fine.”

neuvillette glances at lynette, who gives an unhelpful shrug. he says, “i have asked for a few gardes to escort you home. there are a few journalists outside waiting for you, but am i correct to assume that you wish to leave, undisturbed?”

lyney finally raises his head, words strained through his twisted smile. “you are correct, as expected of the chief justice. if you can spare the manpower, we’d like to leave as soon as we can.”

“i’ll direct them to the main entrance. please meet them there, once you’re capable of doing so.”

“noted.”

he gives a slight bow his head, turns his heel. neither twin sees his expression, only hears an echo of hollow remorse when he says, “i apologize for what furina revealed. it was unnecessary for the trial.”

there is no reply. he walks away, words lost to the echoes of his footsteps. “your shows are a source of pride and joy for our people. please remember that.”

they don’t move, waiting until the air has stilled before releasing their breaths. lynette catches her brother’s eye and offers him her hand. “shall we?” it takes a few attempts, but he eventually pulls himself up, and she guides him to the main entrance. he doesn’t let go.

their entourage waits for them, a trio of uniformed men. a handful remain onstage to inspect the pool of water left behind, while the rest are suppressing the crowd outside. the twins are flanked on either side as they exit, the night breeze caressing their faces. lynette blinks stars away as camera flashes invade her vision, voices ricocheting around them. she hears their names spoken with contempt, admiration, interest. hands reach out. gardes deflect them, but when a few lay too close to her, she pulls away. lyney stays huddled by her side, even on the aquabus.

it’s passed midnight when they return home. lynette thanks the gardes before pulling open the front door wide enough for them to slip inside, locking it behind them. she has barely caught her breath when a quiet whisper makes her jump. “lyney? lynette?”

freminet emerges from the shadows. lyney releases her hand and looks up. his eyes are too wide, smile too wide. “freminet! how nice of you to wait for us.”

“you don’t have to do that.” their youngest brother shakes his head. “you don’t have to pretend.”

lynette nods in agreement. his mask has unraveled too much at this point. lyney falls quiet, stumbles passed them to sink onto the couch. they flank him. he takes his hat off. “what did you hear?”

“there was an accident, but it became a murder. the traveler helped prove your innocence.” freminet hugs his penguin companion closer. “they also said…you and lynette are fatui.”

silence. lyney lowers his head. “i’m sorry.” his siblings don’t answer. they know that his words aren’t meant for them. “it wasn’t meant to happen.”

“whether it did or not, we can’t do anything about it,” lynette says softly. “all we can do is keep doing what we’ve been doing. the traveler will see that we mean no harm, soon enough.”

“blood is already on our hands, lynette. but…” he straightens. his makeup is smudged, expression haunted with exhaustion. and yet, fire burns in his eyes. “we’ll make up for it. i promise we will.”

“the rest of us are behind you,” freminet murmurs. “we’re just as guilty as you are.”

they rest, huddled together in the darkness, buried beneath the weight of their sins, carrying the burden of retribution on their shoulders.

[giolovesyousm]

imagine: dead poets society as a sitcom, and the main couple is knarlie, who ofc argue for every little thing as they're an old married couple; starring: @thebisexual-and-thedamned and me

charlie in suit and tie: "HONEYY I'M HOOME WHAT WE HAVE FOR DINNER??"

knox in a pink apron: "CHARLIE YOURE LATE, OH YOUVE BEEN KEEPING ME WAITING FOR HALF AN HOUR. IVE MADE THIS HOT AND READY MEAL FOR YOU AND YOU CANT TELL ME WHERE YOUVE BEEN!!"

charlie: "OHH COME ON YOU'RE ALWAYS STRESSING ME, I WAS MEETING SOME OLD FRIENDS DON'T BE SO DRAMATIC XANAX"

knox: "OH BUT YOU MADE ME WORRIED SICK AND I DONT EVEN GET A THANK YOU FOR WORKING SO HARD AROUND HERE"

charlie: "THANK YOU, YOU'RE HAPPY NOW? THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED RIGHT? NOW GIVE ME MY MEAL AND LEAVE ME ALONE FOR GODSAKE"

knox: "OH YOURE SO UNGRATEFUL, YOU CANT EVEN THANK ME TO NOT SPITE ME. WHEN IM DEAD DONT EXPECT A HOT MEAL MADE FOR YOU OUT OF THIN AIR BC I PUT MY LOVE AND TIME IN IT - FOR YOU"

charlie: "OKOK CAN WE JUST STOP THIS, YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY OVER REACTING TO THIS, YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN RIGHT NOW. I SAID 'THANK YOU' WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY MORE?"

knox: "OF COURSE YOURE PULLING THE OVERREACTING CARD ON ME, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO CALL ME CRAZY NEXT??"

charlie: "IF THAT'S WHAT YOU WANT THEN YES YOU'RE CRAZY.

*in comes cameron in the scene from the kitchen* "WILL YOU GUYS SHUT UP AND LET ME HAVE MY ICE CREAM IN PEACE"

charlie: "CAMERON GET OUT I'M ALREADY NERVOUS, I DON'T NEED YOU TO MAKE THIS WORSE."

*insert laugh track and then charlie giving cameron a death stare* "DONT YOU PUSH ME."

*in comes neil and more clapping BC ITS NEIL* "hey, are you fighting again?"

*charlie and knox together still yelling* "NO WE'RE NOT."

*neil holds both his hands up and looks at cameron* "cmon cam, they’re gonna be at it all night" *insert laugh track*

*charlie and knox admire how neil and cameron get along before going back to screaming at each other*

*bow and the curtain closes, peace ✌️*

[whumpers-inc]

Meet the Whumpers

Who Wants to be a Whumpee? Next: Restraints

The sleek, gray pods halt, backs to the audience. The music takes a dramatic twist as Paul, host of Who Wants To Win a Whumpee, strides center stage to the first one.

“ First up to show us how it's done, the restraint specialist himself, BRAD MACK!”

Loud cheers fill the air as the pod spins to face the audience, revealing a tattooed hunk of a man, all brawn and beard. He gives a jaunty two fingered salute toward the crowd, scars and smile twisting across his face

“ Great to have you here, Brad. Can’t wait to see some of that famous rope work.”

Paul nods and moves on to the next pod.

“Easy on the eyes but not on the Whumpees, he’s a literal heart breaker- THE DUKE!”

The second pod turns, revealing a younger man, pretty of face and sharp of jawline. He blows a kiss to the crowd and there's definitely some feminine screams out there.

“ Looking good tonight, Duke. Love the tux.”

Paul winks at the Duke and a hint of flush creeps up the younger man's cheeks. Smirk still playing around his mouth, he halts by the last pod. The music amps up to its loudest yet and he makes a show of adjusting his bowtie

“Finally to show us how it's all done, the four time winner, Aria Abbey!”

There’s the biggest amount of applause yet when the pod swivels, bringing Aria idly twirling a dagger into view.

“ It's an honor to have you here tonight.” Paul bows and extends his hand.

She ignores it. “Flattered, I’m sure.”

He coughs and turns back to the audience by Aria’s side.

“ Whumpers! It's time for you to meet the Whumpee!

All eyes turn expectantly to the side of the stage as more confetti rains through the swirling lights. The sequined assistants skip out again, Aaron between them, confetti piling up between his ropes. He’s still scowling more would seem humanly possible. Positioned between the audience and the Whumpers, the spotlights highlight bruises that definitely weren’t there before.

“ Good to have you back with us. Whumpers, say hello to tonight's Whumpee Aaron!”

Brad cocks his head to the side, eyes flicking up and down Aaron’s slightly disheveled appearance. “ Not bad, those wrists would look good in chains.”

Aaron mouths obscenities at him under the logo adorned gag.

The Duke swaggers slowly around him and Aaron's head swivels to glare at him the whole way round. The Duke meets his eyes and chuckles before tilting his head up with one perfectly manicured finger.

“I like this one. Plenty of spark,” he drawls. “Bet you cry real nice too, hm?”

Aaron’s face says he’d like to boil the duke real nice in hot oil.

Ari faces Aaron squarely. Her hand cracks across his face and blood oozes thick and red from his split lip. The crowd gasps in shock before a few whistles of appreciation ring out. Something that looks an awful lot like fear flickers into Aaron’s eyes.

“Whoa, take it easy Ari.” Paul grabs her raised wrist. Fight dances dangerously in her eyes.

“ I was just testing him out. I need to know what I'm working with.”

He arches an eyebrow at her and she pouts playfully but pulls her hand back down. Paul faces the audience, obvious eagerness rising through them.

“ Well it looks like we’re raring to go, so let's get on with it.”

The whumpers all take a seat opposite Aaron on the stage.

The lights dim. The curtains drop. An air of expectation engulfs the audience.

A minute later, the curtains rise. A wave of applause ripples through the crowd. Spotlights illuminate three solid metal poles and matching chairs placed next to them.

Paul strides back out, mic in hand. Brad, the Duke and Aria stand next to the poles, hands on their choice of restraints.

“ The first category is RESTRAINTS! The whumpers will each be given 5 minutes to restrain Aaron with points given for creativity, simplicity and durability.”

Rather unenthusiastically, Aaron stands in front of Brad's station, eyeing the chains and ropes and wire suspiciously.

“First up Brad and Aaron. Your time starts...NOW”

Tagging: @darklyria @ashintheairlikesnow @as-a-matter-of-whump

[awalkthroughstellis]

A Threat, or a Promise?

Warnings: Heavy spice, original idea

Rated 16+

Summary: Robin’s mission gets thrown off when her rival shows up at the nightclub she tracked the target to. Unable to help herself, she uses all the tricks she knows to get under his skin, but are things really as they seem?

The fresh ink stamped on the back of my hand was still cold when I stepped through the veil. Beyond the sheer curtain, a world of music, dancing, drinking, and neon lights stretched out before me. The smell of booze was heavy in the air and there were so many people packed on the dance floor I could feel the heat of all their bodies from here.

Yet somehow, I found my target with ease. He was standing at the bar, chatting up the bartender and laughing like any regular guy. Except, he wasn’t just a guy, he was the guy who landed on the agency’s list of criminals. Word got out he would be exchanging an illegal deal here tonight, and I came to figure out what it is. The rest of the team will take care of the arrest.

Making sure to add extra sway to my hips, I approached the bar and stopped next to him, leaning my elbows on the counter and ever so slightly popping my butt out. “Vodka shot, please.”

The bartender nodded and turned to grab a bottle.

“Looks like someone’s here for a good time.” The target said, turning to me with a smile. He offered his hand. “Pete.”

“Marie.” I lied, placing my hand in his with a grin.

The skin on my back prickled the way it always did when a particular glare was fixated on me, and I had to fight to keep the aggravation from showing on my face and ruining this opportunity.

The bartender placed the shot in front of me and I threw it back. “So, Pete, what brought you out tonight?”

He shrugged. “Just looking for some fun. Waiting on a few buddies of mine to show up. What about you?”

Something told me these ‘buddies’ were other party of this illegal business.

I twirled a lock of hair around my finger and bit my lip, averting my gaze as if playing shy. “Just looking to be a little reckless, I guess.”

“Yeah?” Pete’s head titled, eyes a little glazed. “Well, Marie, if you happen to still be around after my buddies bail, I’d love to show you a good time.”

Got him.

“I’d love that.” I said, choosing the width of my smile carefully, glancing up and down the length of his body for added effect.

Pete bowed dramatically before turning and disappearing into the crowd. Someone appeared behind me as soon as he vanished. I rolled my eyes and waved the bartender down for another shot.

He wasn’t going to go ignored. “You have a bad habit of appearing everywhere I go.”

“And you have a bad habit of showing up everywhere I need to be.” I turned to face him. “You can take off, Raven. I got this.”

I hate how attractive he is. The messy chestnut hair, those lifeless, coral eyes that embodied danger in its prime. Raven set my skin on fire from both annoyance and attraction, and I didn’t know which was the stronger emotion.

“I got a warning someone swiped the files for this case and would likely show up to try and play the white knight.” His glare hardened. “You’re a headache for the entire agency.”

“Ah, that’s right. You’re the golden boy.” I downed my second shot.

“Will you go easy on the alcohol before you blow this operation?”

I gave him the most disinterested look I could manage. “That’s rich coming from the guy who needs medication to handle his alcohol.”

His jaw clenched, pulling at the muscle on the side of his neck. “Don’t forget that I can, and will, put you in your place, Robin.”

I stepped towards him, our bodies so close our lips could touch at any moment. The dangerous aura that surrounded him wrapped around me like a blanket, the scent of his cologne more intoxicating than the alcohol. His eyes flashed down to my lips for just a moment, and if I wasn’t standing so close, I would have missed it in the dim lighting.

“Is that a threat, or a promise?” I asked. In my peripheral vision, I noticed the way his hand, which was gripping the bar counter, curled into a tight fist. “Let me do my job, Raven. You can discipline me to your heart’s content later.”

I spun, prepared to strut away and flaunt myself for all I’m worth, but I didn’t get far. A hand wrapped around my arm and pulled until my back collided with his chest, his other hand braced over my collarbone.

Raven’s voice was right in my ear, his breath tickling my skin as he spoke. “Stay out of the way.”

I moaned and placed my hand over his, sliding it up until it was wrapped around my neck. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

I tugged and he let go, though I could still feel his eyes boring holes into my back as I walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had the perfect spot on the dance floor, right in the thick of it all where the green and pink lights shined overhead and where I was able to keep an eye on the booth where Pete and his company sat. The booths were on an elevated level of the club, not so high up as to need a staircase but where those sitting there could get a full view of the dance floor. Pete’s booth was close to the railing, and each time I turned I caught his eyes checking me out.

He wasn’t the one I was intending to tease, though. Raven had somehow found a place at the table, and although I kept flirting with Pete from a distance, I was keeping tabs on how riled up Raven was getting. His fingers were digging into his thigh beneath the table and he was griping his glass so tightly I thought it might shatter.

I locked eyes with Pete again, smiled playfully and coaxed him over with my finger. I didn’t wait to see his reaction and turned my back to him, losing myself in the music until he decided to come join me. It wasn’t long before a chest pressed against my back, hands taking ownership of my hips in a way only one man could.

“You’re asking for it.” Venom fell from Raven’s lips but it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.

I smirked and pushed back into his crotch, and was rewarded by his fingers digging into my skin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m minding my own business.”

“Are you here to play a game or do a job?”

“Can’t I do both?”

Raven spun me and pulled me in until I was flush against him. My hands gripped his shoulders, breasts pressed against his chest, his leg between mine as our hips moved with each other in time to the music. My eyes felt heavy with lust as he controlled my every move, played my body like an instrument just the way I wanted.

I wonder who the real winner here is?

“Do you know how easy it would be to rip this thing off you and give that man a show?” Raven asked, fiddling with the zipper on the back of my dress. “Seems like you want me to show these people who you belong too.”

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on that stone face of yours, Raven.” I said, then breathed a laugh against his lips. “Actually, I take that back. It does.”

I shivered as he brushed his lips along my jaw. “It’s been a while, but I still remember how to make you scream.”

Heat pooled in my stomach. “I’ll ask again: is that a threat, or a promise?”

The sea of people around me suddenly disappeared as Raven shoved me against a wall, the chilly air of the outdoors nipping my skin. In a fraction of a second he was on me, gripping and clawing at my body while taking rightful ownership of my mouth and tongue. I moaned and knotted my fingers in his hair, pressing into him to feel the strength of his body.

I gasped into his mouth as the top of my dress was suddenly yanked down my arms, exposing my chest for his exploration. Raven released my lips to kiss and nip at my skin, working me up until my chest heaved beneath his attention.

“Robin…” His voice sounded distant in my hazy mind. “Robin, it’s time to wake up, Lovebug.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I whined and brushed Luke’s hand off, digging my face into my pillow to avoid the light. “Lukeeeee, you ruined ittttttt.”

“Huh?”

“My dream!”

I quickly gave up on going back to sleep and turned over so I was laying on my back. I stared up at Luke with a glare and a pout. As grouchy as I was for being woken up just as my dream was getting good, seeing his face right in front of me made my heart quicken. His expressions are much gentler and the air around him warm and welcoming, but I know what he’s capable of. Luke or Raven, he turned me into a mess all the same.

“Sorry. You’ve been knocked out for a hours now. I was starting to get worried.” He gave me a look of concern. “You’re not feeling off, are you?”

“No.” I shook his head, grabbed his hand and placed it on my cheek. “I am feeling some type of way, though.”

Luke’s eyes went wide. “What’s wrong? Do you need a hospital?”

I laughed and sat up, shaking my head again. “No, no hospital. We can fix this right here at home.”

I leaned in and kissed his lips once, twice, and he initiated the third. Our kisses were slow and gentle, each one growing in passion and building up tension. I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and ran my tongue along his bottom lip, asking for more. Luke grunted, the sound arousing me further and encouraging bold thoughts. I didn’t think twice before pushing him into his back and moving to sit on top of him.

Luke broke the kiss with a chuckle. “Easy, girl. We’ve got all day.”

[chateaudepogues]

Wasteland, Baby — Chapter One: Trouble Is. . .

Summary: It’s the beginning of summer and Hurricane Agatha sweeps her way across Kildare Island. It’s the beginning of summer and an adventure like they’ve never seen before when the Pogues discover a sunken Grady-White out in the marsh. It’s the beginning of summer and everything leads back to a compass. . .

A/N: A repost of the first chapter of my Outer Banks fic titled Wasteland, Baby. Apologies and welcome back to those who have already read it.

Pairings: John B Routledge x OC, JJ Maybank x OC (platonic)

Warnings: underage drinking, drug use, violence, abuse, social & class division, murder/attempted murder, suggestive themes. General Outer Banks warnings apply. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 19.2k

[Wasteland, Baby Masterlist]

John B: We're the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time.

Summer on Kildare Island was John B's favourite season. It was a time when he and his friends got together and did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, without restriction. They cheered and laughed their way through restless days, to the late hours of sleepless nights when everything and everyone lay still. He liked to think that in another life, they had it all.

He often found himself desperate for more time; wishing on stars for things that only happened in fairytales. He couldn't accept that life would never be better than the cruel mundanity it was, certain that something more existed just beyond his reach. If only he could figure out how to get it.

His old Volkswagen chugged along the empty upscale residential neighbourhood until he reached his final destination. He parked down the street and turned to face the girl sitting beside him in the passenger seat; he needed to make the remainder of their week count. Would summer even feel like summer without her?

Their friends climbed out of the sliding passenger door and waited for the quiet pair to join them.

When JJ suggested grabbing a case of beer and hanging out at the mansion-to-be, no one disagreed. When John B said they needed to make a pit stop on the way and rescue Atlas from work, they wouldn't hear of going without her. Their ragtag band of misfits did everything together or not at all.

John B climbed through the incomplete skeleton of the lavish summer home to the back deck behind his friends. Approaching the unfinished edge, he peered out over the horizon; they made it just in time to watch the sunset. The first of many tasks on his quest to make Atlas' last week on the island an epic one.

“Hey, Attie? If we get caught, you think the sheriff will let us off with a warning?” John B asked. He focused his attention on climbing the scaffolding to the roof with a can of beer tucked under his chin.

“Doubt it. I'm still on thin ice for the last stunt we pulled. But what's another disappointment added to the list?” she said. Atlas cocked her head to the side, and a curtain of chestnut brown beach waves fell across her forehead; she had a smile that gave the sun a run for its money.

Kind slate blue eyes stared up at John B as he made his way to the opposite end of the roof. “Hey, Booker?”

“Yeah?”

“Ten bucks says you drop that beer.”

“I'm not gonna drop the beer, Attie.”

“Sure. But ten bucks if you do.”

“Okay, deal.”

“Quit flirting with my sister, John B.” JJ interrupted their playful banter with a pointed look at his best friend, but the teasing grin on his face betrayed his harsh tone. He gave Atlas an unsteady bow, motioning to the scaffolding John B climbed moments before, then offered her a boost up. “Ladies first.”

“Call me a lady one more time, Maybank, and I'll punch your teeth in,” she bit back with an evil smile.

“Your beer. . .milady,” JJ sang. His baby blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight and John B saw the moment peace washed over Atlas; he knew she missed JJ when they were apart. With a dramatic flourish, he proffered a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, then opened one for himself. It truly was the perfect way to watch an Outer Banks sunset.

“Hey, Pope”―below them, the boy in a maroon polo glanced up at Atlas from where he stood toying with a cordless drill―“how long would you say that drop is?”

Pope, the brains of the group, and inarguably the smartest among them, looked up from where he was on the deck to where John B balanced on the roof above. “Mmm, about 40 feet, give or take.”

John B tried not to focus on the small ribbon of grey that swirled at the center of Atlas' grey-blue eyes as she studied him; a calculated expression pinching her eyebrows together in the middle. “All right. Ten bucks you drop the beer. Twenty if you fall.”

The lanky brunet sighed and shookhis head, his shaggy hair dancing lightly against his neck. “Fine. Get ready to pay up, 'cause I'm not gonna do either.” He took another desperate gulp from his can and lazily held his arms out at his sides. I would give you everything I own if you asked me to. . .

“That's what, a three-story fall to the deck? I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival,” Pope informed pointedly.

“Hm. Should I do it?”

“Yeah, you should jump. I'll shoot you on the way down.”

“You gonna shoot me?”

“Yep.”

“Pew!”

A warm breeze swept over the four teens, ruffling John B's hair, and bringing with it the smell of saltwater and freedom. The sun bathed the horizon in an array of colours like the finest oil painting he'd ever seen. This was summer. This was freedom. This was everything John B had been dreaming of since the school year began. There was nothing in the world he would trade these moments for.

“Yo, Kiara, where'd you go?” Atlas called happily and the girl in question emerged from inside.

“They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers.”

JJ hummed thoughtfully from his spot beside Atlas, their legs swinging restlessly. “Of course, they are. Why wouldn't they?”

“This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess?”

“I can't have cold towels,” the blond argued playfully. He ducked away from Atlas' playful slap to the bill of his hat, unseating the careworn red cap. He loved irritating his friends, especially Kiara. He answered the gesture with a grin and fixed his hat.

John B smiled at the exchange between them; he adored his friends.

“Well, they're rich, Kie. What do you expect?” Atlas said.

Kiara choosing not to answer, instead redirected her attention to John B balancing on the end of the roof with no intention of climbing down. As the voice of reason among them, she scolded, “Can you please not kill yourself?”

Atlas tipped her head back, shielding her eyes from the sun. She wasn't about to lose out on easy money. 

They learned early in their friendship that both of them could be suckered in or out of anything simply by turning the situation into a bet, and they rather enjoyed making a fool out of each other. The problem was, that they both hated losing which often resulted in ridiculous stakes.

He met her challenging gaze with one of his own.

“Mm-mm. Do not ruin this for me, Kie. I'm about to be ten-to-twenty dollars richer.” She sipped her beer and waved the daredevil boy off with a two-finger salute. “As you were, John B.”

“Don't spill that beer. I'm not giving you another one,” warned JJ.

“Whoa! Oh, shit.” John B leaned back as his weight shifted, his grip on the beer can loosened and it sailed to the deck floor below. The wind whipped around him, tousling his shoulder-length brown hair. At least he hadn't fallen to his death. He groaned, and Atlas smiled triumphantly back at him. He knew better than to take such a risky bet.

“Of course you did. Like right when I told you not to.” JJ laid his head on Atlas' shoulder.

“A-plus, Booker. Bravo.” Atlas clapped mockingly.

“Smooth. When will you two grow up?” Kiara asked, annoyed.

John B grinned down at the pair tucked away in a world of their own, enjoying a laugh at his expense. “Not today, Kie. Not today.”

He had to admit, though it stung losing money to his best friend, spending their last week together being as reckless as possible was sure to make the highlight reel. What made their time together special wasn't what they did but who they did it with. Anything was worth it as long as he had the Pogues.

Atlas squinted into the sunlight as if it would help her hear better and looked down at Kiara. “Hey. Do you guys hear that? JJ, shut up.”

“Hey, uh, security's here.” Pope leaned over the railing and turned back to the others, worry written all over his face. “Let's wrap it up.”

The fun part of breaking the rules was the adrenaline rush that came with almost getting caught. Their risky behaviour hardly ever caught up with them because no one cared enough to pay close attention. JJ, John B and Atlas scrambled down from the scaffolding and followed Kiara and Pope back through the balcony door. Getting busted by security hadn't made the top of their to-do list.

They rushed through the house; cutting around corners, racing down the stairs, and bursting out of the garage before Gary the Security Guard could get his hands on any of them. It became a game of cat and mouse, and much like Jerry, they always outsmarted him. The quintet split up and raced in opposite directions, adrenaline pumping wildly through their veins.

“Atlas, is that you?” Gary called after the young girl, huffing along behind them toward the back fence.

“Uh, nope, sorry! You have me confused with someone else!”

No matter how many times they did it, somehow always leaving Atlas behind to be the decoy left John B's stomach in knots. Tried and true, they were the group's fastest runners, but he was the one with the license. . .and the getaway car. It just made sense. What were two minutes hiding behind a hedge for a lifetime of thrill?

The Twinkie's horn sounded loud and unyielding around the corner and relief flooded John B's system when Atlas bounded toward them at a lazy jog. They had their routine down, he couldn't be prouder of his crew.

“Your chariot awaits, Princess.”

Atlas marched up to the passenger side and climbed in, pulling JJ's cap from his head and placing it backwards on hers. She could barely hear her voice past the sound of her heartbeat roaring in her ears. “Shut up, Maybank. And you owe me ten bucks, Routledge.”

“I can't believe we pulled that off. I thought you were dead meat for sure.” Kiara pressed a hand to her chest, leaning against the back of the passenger seat as Atlas climbed over her. Pope hummed in agreement.

“No way, A is a pro! She's got that Maybank blood in her,” JJ praised confidently, taking his hat back. He gave his friend a proud grin, reaching between the front seats to bump their fists together. 

John B passed a $10 bill to his right and crossed the bridge out of the neighbourhood.

John B: The Outer Banks, paradise on Earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island.

All right. So, this is Figure Eight, the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So, guess where we don't live.

As he drove away from the north side of the island, John B couldn't stop wondering about what their summer would be like. He wanted an adventure worthy enough to tell stories about. Knowing Atlas wouldn't be with them had the gang feeling more than a little melancholy, but that's how things went sometimes.

The best they could do was carry on.

And then, this is the south side or the Cut home of the working class who make a living busing tables, washing yachts, running charters. The natural habitat of. . .drumroll please. . .the Pogues. That's us.

Pogues, pogies, the throwaway fish. Lowest members of the food chain. Okay. So, the downside of Pogue life is we're ignored and neglected. But the upside of Pogue life? We're ignored and neglected, which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want.

With foster care looming over his head, John B chose, instead, to focus on what he could control of the moment at hand: cruising in what remained of the afternoon sun with the windows down and music blaring from the radio.

He arrived at the Country Club in record time and parked behind the large building, waiting for Atlas to emerge from its clutches. An SOS text after the storm warning for Hurricane Agatha was all it took to get his mind off of his troubles. Though he wondered how he was going to tell her about DCS. If they caught him at home without an adult, it'd be a one-way ticket off of the island.

“You're a lifesaver, John B!” Atlas all but shrieked on her way out of the employee entrance. Her chestnut waves blew wildly in the wind, grey-blue eyes reflecting the incoming stormy sky overhead. “Heyward's got the boys on last-minute lockdown deliveries, JJ can't pick me up today.”

John B smiled at the sight of his best friend and leaned over to open the passenger door. He momentarily forgot all of his woes in her presence. “Anytime.”

They rode in comfortable silence, neither feeling the need to fill it with small talk about their day. John B knew enough to tell when the days had been rougher than usual, being apart from JJ did that to her. And Atlas knew the uncertainty of his dad's whereabouts kept him up at night. They didn't talk about it.

“Attie, am I takin' you home tonight?” John B asked as he turned into the all-too-familiar neighbourhoods they grew up in.

She rested her head against the passenger window, watching vicious storm clouds roll in over their usually sunny island town. “You, me and JJ tonight. Like always. You don't fuck with tradition, John B.” 

What will summer be like without you? It was a passing thought, one John B knew they all had countless times.

Hurricane season wasn't unusual on Kildare Island. Tropical storms roaring up the coast occurred just about every year; what made them special was having people you love to wait it out with. And for John B, those people were Atlas and JJ. It began when they were little, one night when JJ needed an escape from his dad and Atlas simply wanted to do anything other than listen to Sheriff Peterkin drone on about storm safety and patrolling around the island. Big John let both kids stay over, and the four of them hunkered down together in the Château.

They soon discovered it was way less frightening when you had your two favourite people by your side. Ever since that first night, when a storm was slated to roll through Outer Banks, John B prepped the fish shack with Atlas and JJ's help, and the three friends continued their tradition. 

“You know what? I have an idea.” John B's eyes lit up. He parked the van outside the Château and clumsily climbed ― more like fell ― from the driver's seat without another word. His ideas usually meant some form of trouble.

Atlas hung her head out of the window and watched him disappear into the fish shack. “Wait! John B! Where are you going?”

“Just stay there! I'll be right back!”

When it seemed like the minutes would turn into hours before John B returned, he appeared around the side of the shack with their surfboards. After strapping the boards to the rack on the roof of his van, he slid behind the wheel and backed down the gravel lane. Atlas immediately recognized the look of mischief settled in his rich brown eyes. “16 and crazy” was how Sheriff Peterkin often described John Booker Routledge to the girl, a title he regularly lived up to.

It didn't take long for them to reach the middle of town, meet up with Pope, or convince him to go too. Smart as he was, Pope had the same dumbass idea as John B. And Atlas was along for the ride.

Ocean waves swelled with the anger of a storm seeking to raze Outer Banks to the ground, which did little to deter the three friends who changed into board shorts and raced toward the beach with boards in hand. Rain fell in thick, demanding sheets, lightning cracked restlessly across a darkened grey sky, and thunder bellowed in the distance. They ran.

“It's a double overhead out there, bro,” Pope said.

“Double overhead?” questioned John B.

“Those aren't surfable waves, bro.”

“Says who?”

If he tried hard enough, John B could picture Sheriff Peterkin's scowl and hear the stern tone in her voice as she chastised the three teenagers for getting into more trouble that she'd have to clean up. Only if they were caught.

“He knows this is crazy, right? There's no way we can surf out there,” Pope stated, turning to Atlas for help.

“Trust me, he knows. It's John B, crazy is his middle name,” Atlas laughed. She shrugged out of the t-shirt she wore over her bathing suit — she wouldn't need it where she was going.

“No, his middle name is Booker. Where are you going? Seriously, those waves will kill you.”

“Relax, Pope. Loosen up, have some fun.” John B secured the cuff to his ankle and picked up his board. Breathing in the smell of lightning and rain and ocean, he let it all wash over him and gave his friends a thumbs up.

“Twenty bucks says you totally bite it out there, Book.”

“You're on, Attie.”

“I can't believe you're letting him surf the surge alone, A.” Pope shook his head.

Atlas waved him off. “Eh, I've done worse. Who said I was letting him go alone?”

“You can't be serious?”

“I got twenty dollars riding on this. And, someone's got to identify the body when he dies.” She winked. Atlas finished securing her ankle cuff and picked up her board, and followed John B beyond the BEACH CLOSED DUE TO HURRICANE sign. Another easy bet for the record books.

Pope panicked. “You mean ‘if’. . . You do mean ‘if,’ right?” His shouts were lost in the storm.

There was something unique about John B and Atlas' friendship that couldn't be found anywhere else; she understood him in ways no one else did, and never tried to change who he was. She accepted the parts of him that others found unlikable and liked the parts of him that others found unacceptable. To John B, Atlas was the glue that held the Pogues together.

“See you on the other side,” he promised.

“As you were, John B,” she answered with a two-finger salute.

John Booker Routledge was 16 and crazy.

That evening saw Agatha's reign of terror over the island; the following morning saw what remained.

The rooster's crow roused John B from the comfort of dreamless sleep. Upon waking, he was aware of two things: they survived the storm, and they had no idea what waited for them outside.

He rolled over to check his phone, saw there was no service and sighed. With no way to contact the others, they were heading into a boring day. He guessed he should be grateful, DCS wouldn't be able to get ahold of him until the towers were back online. Getting out of bed, he flipped the light switch on and off, no power either. Everything to the south side of the island was down until further notice (Figure Eight had generators).

But John B was used to this, he was used to living in darkness, doing things by flash-or-candlelight and eating out of cans until the mainland or County got the power back on, but. . .he didn't have to like it. Being a Pogue was amazing, being poor was not.

He pulled on yesterday's now-dry board shorts and headed to the living room where JJ spent the night sprawled out on the hide-a-bed. The younger boy gave Atlas the spare room on the grounds of “protecting only the best of friends during the storm and shit,” and she didn't fight him on it.

“Yo, JJ, you been outside?” John B slapped his best friend on the back as he passed by.

“I have polio, bro,” JJ replied, turning his face into the cushion. “I can't walk.”

“Yeah, whatever. Atlas!” John B yelled for the girl over his shoulder, continuing through the screen door to the patio and down the stairs. He raked a hand through his messy hair and surveyed the damage left behind in Agatha's wake. “Yo, Attie!”

“Over here, B!”

“Oh, man. That's not good. . . That is no good,” he said, following the direction of her voice around the uprooted tree in the middle of the yard.

“Nope, sure isn't.” Atlas stepped around the large root ball and stood next to John B's hazy-eyed form. She checked him over before turning back to the tree. “That Aggie left us quite the mess. You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She grinned.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Couldn't sleep.” He didn't need her to explain why. “Oh, you're gonna love this. JJ up yet?”

“Nah. Why didn't you wake me?” He knew Atlas hated storms, he would sit up with her all night if that's what it took to make sure she was okay.

She didn't answer, John B let it go.

He followed her across the yard; the morning sun beamed down on them through the remaining storm clouds and John B considered how well the grey-blue of Atlas' eyes mirrored the sky during and after a storm. He shook his head, there were rules.

“Oh, man. . .” John B huffed. Before he could stop her, Atlas climbed up on the back of the HMS Pogue. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Dude, she's covered in branches.” Atlas swatted his hands away and hoisted herself into the boat. “You love this thing. That Agatha's a bitch.”

“Agatha did some work, huh?” JJ called from the back porch.

John B took the branches from his friend's hands and tossed them aside. “Yeah, she did. Atlas, will you get down?”

“Nope.”

“You're stupid if you think she's gettin' down from there.”

“Thank you, JJ.” Atlas grinned. “See? Someone's on my side.”

“What you thinkin'?” JJ asked, approaching the boat.

“I'm thinkin' that storm surge pushed all the crabs out on the marsh maze. All those drum are gonna chase the crab.”

“What about the DCS? Wasn't that today?”

John B looked up at the stunned expression on Atlas' face, he hadn't told her about his meeting with DCS or Cheryl wanting to do a check-in with his uncle. In all of the excitement of the previous afternoon, he forgot to mention it. He set his eyes over the horizon, “Nah, they're not gettin' on a ferry. Come on, think about it. It's God tellin' us to fish.”

Atlas places her hands on her hips and looked pensively between the two boys. “Well, if God's tellin' us to fish, then. . .”

“Then what are we waitin' for?” JJ finished for her.

The trio changed clothes and packed “only the essentials” as John B put it, clearing the rest of the debris in no time at all. And soon enough, they were on their way to the marina to pick up Pope for a day of drum fishing in the marsh.

“Sure hope Guffy's boat didn't sink. He doesn't have insurance,” JJ said as they entered the marina's No Wake Zone, taking stock of the ships docked there.

“Not like the Pogue does either, J,” Atlas reminded flatly.

“Yeah, but what's a couple of branches to water damage, Siren? Think about that.”

“He's got a point, Attie. Hi, Miss Amy!” John B sailed slowly by the docks, greeting their neighbours. “You guys get through it?”

“Still here,” she answered, smiling at the teens.

“She totally looked at me,” said JJ.

“I saw it,” answered John B.

Atlas rolled her eyes. “Ew, can you not perpetuate his weird thing for older women?”

“You”―JJ lightly punched her on the shoulder―“are a fucking buzzkill.”

They continued around the docks and met the full extent of the storm's disaster. It wasn't anything new to the trio of friends, but it didn't stop the shock of seeing it again up close.

For the girl who put everyone else before herself, the girl who only ever saw the good in him, the girl who dared to dream of something better ― John B needed the day to be perfect. Atlas deserved that much. He could see it in her eyes, the way her thoughts drifted to a time long ago, a time before the Pogues. Back then, life for Atlas was even more uncertain than it was now. Atlas spent too much time trying to pay him back for keeping her and JJ out of trouble ― if only she knew he did it all for her. . .

“Hey, punk. Don't bitch out on us now.” JJ's warning sounded in John B's ears, it was meant for Atlas but John B needed the reminder now and then. Neither boy asked if she was okay, they didn't talk about it.

She offered him a small pained smile and stole his cap, a familiar action she often did to provide herself small comfort. JJ let her. “I'm good. But this place isn't.”

“Hurricane surge. We're gonna be cleaning this all summer,” JJ lamented woefully.

“That is my nightmare,” Atlas and John B said as one.

“You owe me a beer,” she quickly tacked on and he groanee.

John B pulled the Pogue to the end of the Heywards' dock where Pope stood filling a bucket with water. Behind him sat a large pile of garbage from the wreckage left behind by the storm; they could easily guess his father enlisted his help in cleaning, but they'd arrived to disrupt the natural order of the day. Drum fishing waited for no one and required all of the Pogues.

“Well, look who we have here,” JJ said. He whooped loud enough for Pope to hear him as they approached.

John B cupped his right hand around his mouth and spoke into his left shoulder. “We have a safety meeting. Attendance mandatory.”

Pope sighed dejectedly, “I can't. My pop's got me on lockdown.”

“Come on, man,” JJ urged, mimicking radio static, “your dad's a pussy. Over.”

Heyward stopped behind his son on the dock. “Oh, I heard that, you little bastard.”

“We need your son,” John B tried.

“Yeah, and island rules. Day after a hurricane's a free day.”

“Who the hell made that up?”

“Uh. . . Pentagon, I think. We have security clearance. I have a card.”

Atlas laughed, watching Pope negotiate his release from chores with his father. She knew their friend's antics weren't helping, but they sure made for prime entertainment. “Come on, Pope,” she encouraged, “we're burning daylight. Get in the boat.”

“Get in the boat,” John B whispered behind her at the helm.

JJ agreed, “Make a run for it, bro.”

Pope ran; they cheered.

“How does that feel?”

“Go, go, go.”

“Pope, you never cease to amaze me.” Atlas swapped JJ's cap for her sunglasses and settled on the bow.

The sun warmed their skin, despite the slight shade provided by overcast clouds. There was nothing that came close to spending a day on the water.

John B continued further down the main channel of the marina until Kiara came into view carrying a cooler and her backpack. She knew, of course, that they couldn't pass up the chance to go fishing the day after a major storm and had come prepared.

“Good morning, boys,” Kiara greeted.

“Whatcha got?” Pope asked, gesturing to the cooler in her hands.

“You got some juice boxes?” John B added.

“You know, just some yogurts, some carrot sticks.”

“How about my kind of juice box?” JJ inquired, reaching up to help her into the boat.

Atlas shoved JJ over with her foot. “You boys are insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah. Hey, Attie. Boys giving you trouble today?”

“Oh, always.” Atlas helped Kiara pass around the beer and they were on their way. 

John B hoped Atlas would leave behind the reminder of her past the further they sailed from the shore, he hoped she would be able to spend the day her way. She didn't need to think of how she was going to explain where she'd been to the sheriff, she didn't need to think about how to protect JJ. She could spend the whole day in the comfort and safety of knowing that all she had to do was be herself with the people who loved her and knew her best. John B would give anything to make it happen.

Halfway to the marsh, John B switched places with Pope and took a seat next to Atlas. He didn't ask her why she was up so early or why she was out clearing up his backyard, he simply allowed her to exist in the present moment surrounded by their friends. Of all the things John B prided himself in when it came to Atlas, he always saw the parts of her she worked to keep hidden and he let her hold on to them as long as she needed.

Being out on the water was the Pogues' favourite place to be; nothing compared to the freedom of spending the long summer days fishing with his friends. The scent of saltwater flooded John B's senses; he watched the ease with which Atlas leaned back on the side of the boat and shut her eyes, relaxing into her happy place as they raced along the marsh. Beers in hand, they laughed with the gang and cheered the start of an amazing summer. There was no way they'd be split up now, he was sure of it. If DCS wasn't getting on a ferry to meet with John B, Atlas wasn't getting on a ferry to visit so-called family.

“Let me show you a party trick.”

John B pulled his eyes from the water to JJ standing on the bow of the Pogue, beer poised to raise to his lips. Whatever his partner-in-crime had in mind was a bad idea.

“Hey, Pope. Can you go a little faster, please?”

“Oh, God, here we go. I'm movin'.” John B wasted no time moving from Atlas' side, eyeing her with a silent question when she refused to follow. He shrugged. “Your funeral.”

“It doesn't work. We've tried this like 6,000 times,” Pope said, speeding up.

“I got this. It's gonna work,” JJ answered confidently. He raised the bottle in the air in front of his mouth, tipping the bottom up to pour the contents in. Beer splashed his face, and Kiara's hair and covered Atlas' side but none successfully went down his throat.

“You're getting beer in my hair,” complained Kiara.

“All right, you're done,” John B said.

“Okay, dumbass. Now that I'm covered in beer, thank you for the demonstration.” Sometimes he wondered how the suspicion of the relation between the two of them could be as strong as it was.

Atlas he'd known since they were in diapers, and JJ since the third grade.

It was JJ who had sworn for eight years and counting that they had to be related, they just had to be. Who knew? Maybe they were. They sure acted like it more than any siblings John B had ever known.

He guessed there were signs if you looked hard enough ― after being best friends for so long, it would be impossible to believe he saw little things here and there. How their eyes crinkled the same when they smiled, the way they were always ready to fight their way out at the first sign of trouble, their insane devotion to each other, and they even had the same laugh. John B smiled at the thought.

But JJ's sun-kissed yellow hair and soft baby blue eyes gave him an air of sweet innocence that completely contradicted everything about his sometimes irrational personality (that he got from his dad). John B was sure future tax cheat and mild kleptomaniac were only two things on a long list of reasons people found Luke Maybank's kid unpalatable. But JJ was fiercely loyal and wildly protective, and that made up for it. (And the best surfer John B knew on this side of Kildare Island, but that he kept to himself.)

Unlike their oftentimes misguided companion, Atlas didn't have the luxury of people knowing who she really was. The sheriff had shown up one night with a screaming four-month-old who needed a home and she was gonna give it to her, but she needed to work that night and had nowhere else to take her. So the Routledges stepped in to help. It was her eyes that did them in. “Those are the eyes of mischief,” Big John once said about Atlas' slate blue eyes. “The eyes of an oncoming storm,” he'd warned. And that's exactly what she was; a hurricane waiting to happen.

Without Atlas, JJ wouldn't survive his father, and without JJ, Atlas just wouldn't survive. All they had was each other and the Pogues, and John B intended to keep it that way.

The boat crashed. John B was thrown to the floor, hitting his head against the stern with Kiara toppling over beside him. He should've known letting Pope navigate was a mistake. JJ flew over the bow into the water, and Atlas fell over the port side right behind him.

John B blinked in the beaming sunlight, stars swam across his vision. He watched for Atlas to resurface, spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. JJ came up seconds later with his beer bottle in hand.

“You okay, JJ?” John B called from the floor of the Pogue.

“I think my heels touched the back of my head,” JJ responded.

“Kie, you okay?”

“I'm all right. Atlas?”

She gave a thumbs up, and John B sighed with relief. His friends were okay, he was okay. Wet curls stuck to her forehead, dripping with water. Her voice filled the air next, “All good here.”

“Pope, what did you do?”

“Sandbar. The channel changed.”

JJ pulled himself back into the boat and reached down to help Atlas in. “No shit. You almost killed Siren.”

Sometimes John B remembered exactly why JJ insisted they were related. “At least let me take all you fine boys with me.” Pope didn't respond. “Pope? Dude, what the hell are you lookin' at?”

“Guys. . . I think there's a boat down there.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no, guys. I'm serious. There's like a boat down there. For real.”

“Holy shit, he's right. Let's go.”

Before Kiara could say anything against it, Atlas was back in the water and John B was following behind her with JJ after him. If Pope was right, they had to investigate, didn't they? It was the adventure he'd been waiting for. Who knew what they'd find at the bottom of that wreck, the possibilities were endless. Briefly, he considered what the discovery might feel like and glanced over as Atlas' storm-blue eyes found his brown ones. The two shared a silent conversation; Atlas asked if he was okay, and John B replied that he was.

“Guys, wait up!” Pope shouted to the four bodies in the water, all eager to swim down to the sunken boat. He quickly removed his shirt.

“Pope, get your ass in here!” JJ demanded.

“Come on,” John B spurred.

Once they were all in, they proceeded to swim to the bottom. On its nose at the bottom of the marsh floor, was the last boat any of the Pogues expected to see. When Atlas gave the signal to return to the surface, the five of them rushed back up, breaking through the water with baffled smiles.

“You guys saw that, right?” JJ asked first.

“Yeah, I did,” Kiara confirmed.

“Is that what I think it is? There's no way. . .” Atlas shook her head in disbelief. Why would that be out in the marsh? Let alone sunken in the marsh?

“That's a Grady-White,” JJ continued. “A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy. That's a primo rig.”

John B hauled himself onto the side of the HMS Pogue, his gaze met Atlas' big and bright, leaning down to help her out of the water. His right hand trembled with excitement, settling against her lower back. “Yeah, yeah. That's the boat I saw when I surfed the surge. Maybe it hit the jetty or something.”

Kiara glared at her friends. “You surfed the surge?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn't stop him?”

Atlas hummed, shrugging her shoulders. “Eh, I've done worse. I think you're missing the point here, Kie.”

“Stop him? She went with him,” Pope interjected, throwing a sidelong glance and a weak smile at the now glaring girl.

JJ gave the sneering girl and their best friend high fives ― his pride in them shining in the bright blue of his eyes. “That's my boy. Way to be, sis. Pogue style, man.”

“Speaking of Pogue style,” Atlas grinned, “pay up, Booker. You totally wiped out.”

Kiara's glare grew into a full-on scowl. “What the heck? Are you two stupid?”

“Wait, wait. Do we know whose boat that is?” Pope asked, pulling the attention from Atlas and John B's failure to operate with a stroke of common sense between them.

“No, but we're about to find out. Atlas, you coming?” John B opened the small storage door at the corner and pulled the anchor from its holding compartment.

“Dude, it's too deep,” JJ declared, bending over the front of the boat to get a better look at where the Grady-White lay in the water. He shoved the brunet's shoulder. “And quit flirting with my freakin' sister.”

“Oh, for the weak and feeble, JJ. Last chance, Attie?”

Atlas' eyes shone brightly in the summer sun, and stormy blue irises full of excitement danced above the apples of her cheeks as she smiled. “Hell yeah, bro. Where you go, I go.”

JJ shook his head. “Well, I'm not resuscitating you and I'm just making that clear upfront. Or you.”

“That's fine,” John B laughed, picking up the anchor.

“John B?” Kiara's voice was soft, it lost the reprimanding edge it had when she learned he surfed the surge and Atlas went too. JJ and Atlas suspected she had a crush on their fearless leader, though neither of them confronted her about it.

“What?”

She didn't say; John B stared at her curiously, and Kiara looked away.

“Diver down, fool,” Pope proclaimed.

John B saluted his crew and grabbed Atlas' hand, locking their fingers together; she nodded, grinning. “Diver down,” he said.

“Diver down,” she confirmed.

“Yeah, they are.” A mischievous smirk crossed JJ's features as he moved forward pushing John B from the boat. With her hand tucked in his, John B dragged Atlas down behind him, and he swore he saw the mental note she made reminding herself to kill the young blond as they hit the water. JJ's cackle was lost to the roaring of the marshland below.

It was something they had done a thousand times before, diving together that way. By now it came as naturally as breathing; the way Atlas curled herself around him and the anchor, letting the weight of it pull them down into the icy depths until they had to let go. They swam toward the sunken Grady-White, and John B entered first, beckoning for Atlas to follow.

How could they not be in awe of the rig before them, and the fact that it somehow made its way to the marsh? There was nothing in the open that indicated who it belonged to and he was about to call it a lost cause when something just past Atlas' shoulder caught his eye.

They broke through the water and greedily pulled air into their starving lungs. Was it stupid to dive without the proper gear? Yes. Would they do it again in a heartbeat? Also, yes.

“Any dead bodies?” Pope asked excitedly. John B recalled the time he told a random Touron about his dream to be a coroner.

“Looting potential?” JJ wondered.

“No, no,” John B coughed. “I found this motel key.”

“A key. . .”

“Yes, a key, Pope.”

“Great! We salvaged a motel key,” JJ bit back, pulling the anchor up as John B and Atlas returned to the boat. “I don't like the look on your face, A.”

Atlas stared out at the site where the Grady-White went down. “This is just my face, J.”

“Yeah, the face of an exceptionally bad plan.”

“Who said anything about a plan?”

“I know you. You always have a plan, it's kinda freaky.”

“Guys, we should report the wreck to the coast guard,” Kiara said. “Maybe we'll get a finder's fee.”

“Yeah, and not work all summer,” JJ said mockingly. “Thanks, Agatha, ya batch.”

“JJ's right, Kie. Which brings us to our next order of business ― John B, let's find out who that motel key belongs to.”

“And how do we do that?”

“Some good ol' fashioned trespassing!”

“Atlas! No, we're going to report it to the coast guard. John B?”

Back in town, John B led the way to make their report to the coast guard per Kiara's request. Turning the key into the authorities was the right thing to do, though he'd rather investigate what happened himself ― he had no idea where to even begin. John B and JJ stepped around frantic islanders seeking help with their lost belongings and missing pets, pushing their way to the desk to speak to the man in charge.

“Excuse me! Excuse me,” John B called over the noise.

“Hey, man, we― we found a boat,” JJ tried.

“You're gonna wanna hear this.”

“Hey!” The man at the counter raised his hand, silencing John B. “Calm down.”

The group headed back outside, and Atlas lifted her hand to John B's shoulder. He knew the look on her face well, too well ― he wished she wouldn't.

“So, is now too soon to say I told you so? Because I told you so.”

“Well, that went well,” Pope sighed. 

“So, what's the plan?” JJ asked, knowing Atlas and John B had something in mind.

John B held the key up between them. They tried it Kiara's way, now they would try it his and Atlas' way. Getting into trouble was their specialty. “I think I know how we're gonna find the guy who owns that boat.”

Pope objected, “No, no. We don't know whose room that is. It could be anyone.”

JJ swiped the key from John B's hand and tossed it over Pope's head to Kiara. “I'm in. And it was Attie's idea in the first place, so. . .”

“Come on,” Kiara said, on board with the idea. “We'll be lookout.”

“Finder's fee. Just sayin'.” John B left after his friends, turning to try and convince Pope to follow. “And, hey, at least you'll only be an accomplice. Come on, Bubba.”

They reconvened on the HMS Pogue and John B headed for the motel. He didn't bring up the fact that Atlas hadn't checked in with the sheriff all day, knowing even the slightest possibility that she could still be sent away was a sore spot for her and JJ. While Hurricane Agatha did enough damage to keep the ferry down for a few days at least, there was still a chance the original plan for the summer could be put into motion anyway. Who's to say what would happen once the mainland had full power back up to the whole of Kildare Island?

JJ whistled as the motel came into view, “I thought the Château looked bad.”

“This place is a shitshow,” John B agreed.

“Motel or meth lab?” asked Kiara.

“You be the judge,” said Pope.

John B pulled the HMS Pogue around the bank and stared up at the motel. “Doesn't look like the type of place somebody with a Grady-White would stay.”

“No, it looks like the type of place someone with a Grady-White would get killed,” Pope corrected.

“Pope, you, my friend, need to chill out.” Atlas patted him on the shoulder, he swatted her hand away.

“All right, here we go. This is your captain speaking. HMS Pogue comin' in for landing.”

“JJ, who made you captain again?”

JJ tied the boat to the mooring and looked up with a cheeky grin, blond hair sitting wildly on his head. “Uh, Pentagon?”

“You're an idiot.”

“Yup.”

“We good?” John B asked stepping off of the boat.

“Yeah, we good.”

“All right. Here goes nothin'.”

From the helm, Pope flagged down the older boy and pointed over his shoulder at JJ. “Don't let him do anything stupid.”

“Oh, we will,” JJ assured.

John B laughed. “I'm not makin' promises.”

Kiara handed John B the room key. “Um, be careful. I mean it.”

He chuckled. “Yeah.” To Atlas, he said, “Ten bucks we get caught?”

“Make it twenty,” she smiled.

“Yep.” He headed for the motel, patting JJ on the shoulder as he passed. “Let's go. Why are all these mattresses out here?”

JJ got up to follow after his best friend, nodding to Atlas on his way. “After a hurricane, they have to ditch 'em 'cause they're all mouldy.” He grabbed John B's shoulders as they searched for the room number that matched the one on the key, he pulled the boy to him and mocked the conversation that passed between him and Kiara before they left. He squished John B's cheeks between his fingers. “Just be so careful, John B.”

He shoved the boy off, “God, you're so weird.”

“Dude, what the heck was that about?”

“I don't know. Maybe she wants us to be careful?”

“Since she heard you're being threatened with exile, she's just been, like, ‘Oh! Be so careful, John B,’” he said, rubbing his shoulders.

“Get off.”

“‘Just give me that John D already.’ Like, when are you gonna swoop on that, man?”

John B scowled. “Bro, you know the rule.” So do I. Suddenly all the times he'd gotten a little too close with Atlas flashed in his mind. “No, Pogue-on-Pogue macking. Besides, you're the one who's always hitting on her.”

“Dude, of course, I'm hitting on her. She's a super-hot, rich, hippie chick slumming with us. Why? I can't figure it out either, but who cares, bro? I know that door's locked because I've tried it. Have you?”

“You need help. Not like a little bit of help, like a lot of help. 'Cause it's like every girl who just has a heartbeat you're like, ‘Uhh!’” John B said. 

“What? It's not a big deal. And, tell you what though, bet she'd get you over your crush on Atlas,” JJ countered.

John B stopped in front of the room door. He didn't deny JJ's claims, he couldn't, but he also didn't think he knew about it. And, as he said, there were rules. He blinked a few times, stunned by JJ's audacity to suggest that John B would cross that line with either of the girls. They were his best friends and regardless of his feelings ― if he could even call them that ― he'd never risk jeopardizing the Pogues in that way.

He playfully shoved JJ back from the door. “Dude, I don't have a crush on Atlas.”

JJ laughed dryly. “Bro, you've had a crush on my sister since we were nine.”

“This is it,” John B said, ignoring the turn their conversation had taken. He didn't want to talk about it, certainly not with JJ.

JJ knocked rhythmically on the door, “Housekeeping?” No answer. He knocked on the window for good measure, but still, no one answered.

“Should we try it?”

“Yeah. No persona aquí. No power. No security cameras. No one's gonna know.”

The key fit the lock perfectly and the door opened without a hitch, revealing a small bedroom. The room consisted of two single beds, one with a black bag sitting on the end. It wasn't exactly what John B expected to see, but it would do.

“Check the bag,” he instructed, “see if there's a name on there somewhere.”

The boys spent their time rifling through the owner's belongings, nothing immediately stuck out as an indication of who owned the Grady-White. But John B knew coming there was a good idea; why else would he and Atlas have thought of the same thing without even speaking to each other first? There had to be something in the room that would tell them who owned the boat. The bag was a bust, there was nothing there.

JJ walked to the bedside table and checked the papers left there. “Yo, dude, come here. Maybe this is where they were fishing.”

“Let me see.” John B leaned over the papers.

“Right there.” JJ pointed to a note left behind on a map.

“No, that's off of the continental shelf. That's Big Swell. Nobody fishes there.”

“Okay.”

He picked up the piece of paper tucked under the phone and turned around scanning the room. Something about the numbers written on it told him it was important but he couldn't figure out why.

“Ooh,” JJ sang from the bathroom.

“Find anything?”

“Yeah. A really awesome Dopp kit you won't let me steal.”

“Yeah, 'cause we're not stealing shit. Attie would kill me if I let you do that. . .again.”

“Eh, what Attie don't know won't hurt her.”

“You've got a serious problem, dude.” John B fiddled with the cabinet underneath the coffee pot and pulled the doors open. Inside he found a safe and held up the paper he took from beside the telephone. The safe beeped as he punched the numbers in and the lights turned green, he turned the knob next to the keypad and the door opened.

“Holy shit.” Stacks of money lined the interior, a gun sat on top of them with an orange envelope on top of that. He retrieved one of the stacks and his breath caught at the weight of the thick bundle in the palm of his hand. “Uh, JJ. . . You're gonna wanna see this.”

Atlas knew it wouldn't end well.

JJ and John B were in the room where the cops were heading, and she, Kiara, and Pope needed to find some way to signal them. . .there was only one way it ended in her mind, and it was with the two people she loved most in the world getting arrested. At least I'll be twenty bucks richer. . . She listened out for the cops making their way up the stairs to the second floor and knew it was only a matter of time until they reached the room. She took a moment to calm down and tried to think.

What would JJ and John B do? Atlas thought back to when they were kids; when she and JJ would sneak out of their respective homes and into the Château without Big John knowing (not that he cared when he did). What was it they used to do to signal their arrival to each other?

“Okay, okay. Do something, do something,” Kiara cried frantically. 

Pope picked up a rock from the ground and moved back to the edge of the property. “Okay, stand back.” He threw it toward the building, but it missed the window entirely, hitting the wall instead.

“Didn't you ever play baseball?”

“I was on the math team!”

Everything came rushing back to Atlas in a haze of feelings she didn't have time to process. Her eyes lit up and she pushed Pope and Kiara out of the way, taking the rock from her friend's hand. “I got this,” she said confidently. 

“I sure fucking hope so. Pope was on the math team,” Kiara chided.

“Shh, quiet. Give me some room.” God, I hope you remember this. . . Atlas drew her arm back and hurled the rock, it hit the window as she intended and she felt a small surge of pride. She repeated the action a couple more times until she was sure the boys had noticed, and when John B appeared at the window, her smile widened.

Pope waved his arms toward the front of the motel where the cops had made their way to the room door and whisper-shouted, “Cops! Cops!” but the boy couldn't hear him through the closed window.

“Shut. Up. Pope. Will you―” she paused, gesturing for him to calm down. When he stepped back, she returned her attention to the building, JJ having taken John B's place in the room window. All right, J, don't leave me hanging now. Atlas took a breath, then closed her eyes. In the next moment, she pictured her 10-year-old self sneaking onto the property behind his father's house. She pressed her lips together and whistled, the sound that emerged was a near-perfect replica of the Grey Plover. She waited 10 seconds and then repeated the action, a warning to the boys that they needed to get out of there.

Kiara and Pope watched in awe as Atlas repeated her signal at the now-open window and JJ backed away with a nod. The two looked at their friend in confusion, both having questions they wanted to ask but knew had to wait until later. They raced back to the HMS Pogue with Atlas in tow, leaving the boys behind to make their escape.

“Should we peel?” Kiara asked, sitting behind the wheel.

“You never leave a Pogue behind,” said Pope and Atlas.

“No, seriously, should we peel?”

“Maybe.”

“Guys, hold on. Just trust me.” Atlas scanned the side of the motel for signs of her friends and just when she was about to lose hope, they climbed from the window and hugged close to the wall. It wasn't that bad, right? They'd make it out of there without getting caught, they always did. “Uh, guys. . .”

JJ waved them off as he and John B held tight on either side of the window, neither one made a sound. It wasn't the worst idea they'd ever had and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Atlas' heart was in her throat watching them hang from the building to avoid being seen by the two cops inside the room, and she kicked herself for not going up there with them.

She watched JJ shift awkwardly against the wall and then something black fell from his hand, clattering noisily to the ground below. She winced. Of course, he'd taken something from inside. Why wouldn't he? “What the hell, JJ?” she whispered. “Shit.”

A beat, a breath. A tense moment passed before the officers made their way down the stairs and out to their vehicle, leaving the two boys to crawl safely back through the window.

When they returned, Atlas didn't know whether to hug her friend or kill him. She waited for him to gather whatever he dropped from the roof and join them at the boat to make her decision. She chose both, knowing that she wouldn't change or trade JJ for anything.

“You idiot,” she said, shoving him back. “What the hell?”

“Well, that was fun. Could have warned us a little sooner,” he countered.

“We would've, except Pope was on the math team,” Kiara chided as Pope drove away from the motel.

John B laughed, “You were on the math team?”

“Never mind that. The better question is, how the hell did Attie know to do that?”

She ducked her head, feeling John B's eyes on her, a light blush dusting her cheeks. The last time they used that signal was just before his dad went missing, the last time things at home were too much.

JJ slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. “That, my friend, is a Maybank sibling secret.”

Pope accepted the answer for now. “The cops took everything like it was a crime scene. Did you guys find anything?”

“Did we did anything? No, I don't think so.” JJ let Atlas go and sat forward, he pulled a stack of money and a handgun from his pockets and held them up. “Oh, yeah, we did.”

“What the hell?”

“Dude, what?”

While Kiara and Pope set in grilling JJ on how he came to possess the cash and gun, Atlas marched across the boat to stand in front of John B. The grey-blue of her eyes darkened, and she stared down at him angrily, fire stirring in her gut. “Are you kidding me? What happened to not letting him steal anything?”

“What? Why are you mad at me?” he defended. She scoffed.

“John B.”

“Atlas.”

“J, you're not fucking keeping that.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” he sneered.

As soon as John B moored the HMS Pogue at the end of his dock, Atlas was off like a shot toward the Château without a word spoken to the others. She was speechless, he let her go.

He knew her anger with JJ would only grow as time passed and the knowledge of what they found only incriminated them further. Even he wasn't surprised that JJ involved them in such a damning way, but Atlas was and he knew she hated herself for believing otherwise. They understood who he was since they were 10 years old and he first stole something from Heyward's Seafood, which she went back to pay for. Like it or not, John B and Atlas would always bail JJ out come hell or high water. Never leave a Pogue behind, it wasn't just a rule, it was a way of life.

He wondered what the sheriff would do if she knew, the thought made him want to pull his hair out. But it was the thought that followed. . .the thought of JJ's father finding out that tied John B's stomach in knots. Atlas couldn't get in more trouble, not after the last time, the sheriff wouldn't allow it. Neither could JJ.

Kiara and John B entered the screened-off porch behind her, neither said a word, simply letting the girl stew in her feelings of doom. They knew it wouldn't do any good to try and calm her down anyway, it was something the two friends needed to work through on their own. So, when JJ joined a second later and they found themselves wrestling on the floor, John B let that happen too.

Then Atlas had JJ in a headlock on the floor, his arms pinned at his sides between her legs. He puts up a fight, but she was strong enough to hold him in place for the time being. John B smiled, he taught her that move.

“Why are you so stupid, JJ? What the fuck do you need a gun for?” Sure she was strong, but JJ was bigger and knew how to throw his weight around. He easily broke loose of her hold and the tables turned.

John B stared slightly amused as JJ pinned Atlas under his hips, sitting on her waist and holding her arms firm against her belly. Their scuffle left his hair unkempt on top of his head, his blue eyes were wild with the pain of needing her to understand him.

“Would you just listen to me for one second?” he pleaded, voice small and desperate. John B's heart hurt then.

Atlas stilled beneath him. It had been a long time since he looked at her like that, John B guessed she forgot that he was just a kid ― they were all just kids. The fight in her vanished, she relented and nodded.

“I just. . .” he sighed, whispering, “I just want to protect you. Protect us.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, J.”

It was over. No one spoke on it again. John B and Kiara helped their friends up from the floor and the moment was forgotten.

Pope rushed through the screen door in a whirlwind of panic and brought everyone back to the main problem at hand: the location of Scooter Grubbs' Grady-White and what to do with the information they now held in the palm of their hands.

“Okay. So, um. . .we didn't see anything. We don't know anything. We need to have total and complete amnesia,” Pope said in a hurry, taking a seat between Atlas and Kiara on the bench.

“Actually, Pope's right for once,” JJ agreed. “See, I agree with you sometimes. Deny, deny, deny.”

Kiara shook her head, “Guys, we can't keep that money.”

“Okay. Not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara.”

“We have to pass that off to Lana Grubbs. Otherwise, it's bad karma.”

“Bad karma to be implicated in a felony, too,” Pope said, eyeing JJ. “We gotta go dark.”

“If that means we get to keep the money, then I agree.”

John B pushed himself off of the door frame and moves across the porch. “I don't agree.”

JJ looked to Atlas, then back at their best friend. “What? Why?”

“Just think about it. This is Scooter Grubbs we're talking about, right? Same dude that's buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas. We're talking about a dirtbag marina rat who's never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket and all of a sudden, he's got a Grady-White? Just sayin'.”

Atlas snorted. “Hey, Book? Take a breath. Come on, we'll talk about it some more while we fish.”

Thank God for Atlas. She never tried to change him. He wasn't entirely sure if she knew what he was getting at, but at least she always heard him out. And that way, their summer wouldn't be boring.

John B led the group to the dock, mulling over what they knew so far. He had a point, when had any of them ever seen Scooter Grubbs work a day in his life? Hell, he even mooched a few dollars off of Atlas once or twice without shame and begged her and John B not to tell the sheriff. So the question really was how had he come to own that Grady-White?

John B sat the tackle box down on the dock and perched himself on the railing. “All right, so think about it, Pope. How does a marina rat get a Grady-White?”

Pope inhaled deep. “Prostitution.”

“Square groupers, bro,” John B corrected. “Okay, flying under the radar, no aerial surveillance. They don't do that stuff during a hurricane. What does that mean? Atlas? JJ?”

“They were straight smugglin',” the pair finished.

“Smugglin'. And I guarantee there's a serious amount of contraband in that wreck.”

“Hell, yeah.”

“Don't get excited, J.”

Pope thought for a moment and John B wasn't sure if he was in or out. “For the record, if that is a smuggling ship with the illegal contraband on the inside of it. . .it probably belongs to someone else.”

“Minor details,” Kiara said.

“They could come looking for it. Taking it would be catastrophically stupid.”

“Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time.” JJ reached for the stack of money in Pope's hand and fanned it out in front of his face. “All we need to do right now is just figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck. Until then, we just lay low. Just act normal.”

Atlas laughed, John B loved the sound. “JJ, you are the worst at laying low.”

“Shut up, Attie.”

“Right. And how exactly do we do that?” Pope asked.

“Kegger?” Kiara suggested and everyone agreed.

Later that evening, John B could feel that Atlas was in much better spirits. There was still some time before they needed to be at the boneyard, so they lounged around her place before getting ready.

A few days came and went since she'd last seen the lavender and peach-coloured walls of her bedroom, having spent that time getting into mischief with her friends. Mischief John B wondered if her foster mom had heard of yet. He decided that snooping around the sheriff's case could wait till later in favour of watching Atlas choose her outfit for the party. She always said the first kegger of the summer deserved a kick-ass appearance. Act normal, JJ said.

“We're throwing a kegger, Attie. No one is going to care what you're wearing.”

“I take offence to that, Booker.”

“No, I-I just meant― I wasn't saying―”

“Relax, John B. I'm kidding.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” John B asked, noticing Atlas staring at the fading bruise across her ribs.

He hadn't been there when that fight with Luke broke out or when the cops showed up. But when JJ called and told him to be on standby in case Atlas needed a place to go that night, he knew it had been a bad one. He first saw the red patch like a blossoming flower on her tawny skin as he helped her change into one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts for the night. It looked considerably better now than it had then.

Atlas shook her head, pulling her wet waves from beneath the straps of her bikini top then layering it with a light blue daisy halter top and an old button-down she stole from John B. “Nah, it's fine.”

He smiled weakly, tugging a strand of hair and from behind his back produced a pink bandana that matched the blue one secured around his neck. He was silent, stepping behind her, and careful not to catch her hair in the ties as he fixed the pink fabric around her neck. “Best friends thing?” he said softly.

“Best friends thing,” she replied, lightly punching his shoulder. “Come on, we should go or JJ's gonna throw a fit.”

They discovered the sheriff in the kitchen on her way back out to town, and John B knew Atlas had to tell her something that would satisfy her motherly inquiry into their plans for the evening. After all, Atlas was the reason he and JJ weren't rotting in a jail cell.

Atlas headed to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water; she tossed one to John B, leaned against the counter and took a drink of her own. “Hey, Sheriff.”

“Attie, didn't think I'd see you today,” Sheriff Peterkin said, looking up at the young girl. “John B, you stayin' outta trouble?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he answered politely.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I figured you were already asleep when we got to John B's last night,” she hummed. “How's clean-up from the storm going?”

“You know how it is. Whole town in an uproar over missin' things.” The sheriff took in the girl's outfit and stepped around the table to head out the door. The two friends knew what was coming before she even opened her mouth to speak the words. “I expect you in by curfew tonight. Some things goin' on I can't talk about, but you take care of yourself. And stay outta trouble, ya hear?”

Atlas nodded, smiling. “Yes, ma'am. I hear.”

“Goes double for you, John B.”

If anything went wrong at the party and the sheriff's department heard about it, John B knew Atlas would be in deep shit. He only hoped the rest of the Pogues were on the same page about the meaning of laying low. When they were sure Sheriff Peterkin was long gone, Atlas grabbed her bag and they left out the back door.

A clear sky and warm summer sun greeted them on their way to the boneyard, it was the perfect day for a kegger. And a kegger was the perfect cover for the Pogues until they could iron out the final details of their plan to loot the sunken Grady-White. John B wasn't sure what he was most excited about: the kegger or treasure hunting or the chance to do both with his best friends. He and Atlas met up with JJ, Pope, and Kiara with the keg, all smiles and ready to get the evening started.

“What took you so long?” JJ asked impatiently, accusing.

“Sheriff stopped to give us one of her ‘be careful after dark, don't miss curfew’ mom speeches,” Atlas said, taking the bag of red Solo cups from Pope. “She said there's freaky shit going on that she can't talk about yet.”

“Think she suspects we know anything?” JJ pressed. He and John B sat the keg down and Kiara tossed them the tap. 

Atlas shook her head, “Nah, she would've pinned us down right there if she did. We're good. Let's get the party started boys!”

The boys filled cups with beer from the keg, occasionally stopping to spray Pope or Kiara when they weren't looking. Soon, the boneyard was teeming with teenagers from all across the island looking to have a good time. They crowded around the keg as cups were filled and handed out, no one really knowing or caring what was in them, and the party was in full swing. Another cup was filled and passed along to Atlas who accepted it without hesitation, mingling her way through the masses.

John B: All right, you can't understand the Outer Banks without understanding the boneyard. It's kinda like a three-layer burrito. There's us and our friends, the working-class derelicts from the Cut. Then, there are the Kooks, the rich second-homers. They're mostly from poncey-ass boarding schools, just rich trustafarian posers. Our natural enemies. And then, there are the Tourons. Totally clueless, here for a week on vacation with their families. Chum for the sharks.

The boys continued to dole out drinks as amps were set up across the beach out of truck beds, and the flow of the evening picked up with the energy of a proper keg party. John B knew they pulled it off without a hitch, it didn't get more normal than a party run by the Pogues on the Cut.

“Hey, come dance with me,” JJ said, rushing by him toward Atlas with a fresh cup of booze in his hand. Carefree, warm like the sun ― that was how JJ Maybank should always be. His blond hair blew freely in the breeze coming off of the ocean, his eyes captured the hue of the sky and shone brightly in the evening light.

“You're nuts, JJ,” she laughed, John B swore he could get drunk off the sound. She took JJ's outstretched hand and let him lead her toward the middle of the crowd. John B wished that were him. It'd been too long since they were able to let loose like that and he knew they need it.

“Sheriff can't send you away now,” JJ said, twirling Atlas around him. He didn't say it was because they had to loot the Grady-White and he refused to do it without her, she knew. They all did.

Atlas hummed. She sipped at the cup in her hand, thinking. “I don't think she will. Not now, anyway. I think Scooter Grubbs' body washing up on shore has her too occupied to notice me, right now.” John B hoped she was right about that.

JJ grinned. He brought Atlas in close and kissed the top of her head. To see the two of them interact, sometimes he forgot Atlas was the older one. Maybe JJ's theory was correct. They danced together until the song changed to something slower and JJ handed Atlas off to John B, who sat on a downed tree branch a few feet from them, chuckling at her muttered: “gee, thanks.”

He met her eyes. “What?”

“I can't stand the sight of someone I consider my little brother chatting up a random Touron he's gonna attempt sleeping with later,” she said, scrunching up her nose. “I think I'm gonna go find Kie.”

But neither had to move a muscle to find their friend. At the outer edge of the crowd nearest the water stood Kiara unhappy, having abandoned the boy she was talking to in favour of scowling disapproval at the couple by the red buoy further down the beach. The last person either girl expected to see, Kiara least of all, climbed to the top of the beached tower and sat on the edge of it. Below it, her boyfriend tried desperately to talk her down, but his methods were unsuccessful.

“What is she doing here?” Kiara demanded.

John B felt Atlas tense beside him.

“Kie. . .” she tried, but she didn't have the answer her friend wanted.

John B: That's Sarah Cameron. Kook princess. Kiara's best friend in the ninth grade, worst enemy in the tenth grade. I work on her dad's boat, so, you know, I've seen her around. Then that's Topper, her not-so-pleasant boyfriend. Topper actually thinks Pogues were bred to mow lawns.

Atlas' hand reaches up and wrapped around John B's wrist, he let her pull him down next to her. Throwing her arms over the downed tree in front of them, she looked at him wistfully. He didn't mind that she used every chance she got to tease him endlessly. “Hey, lover boy,” she purred in his ear. She held a joint she stole from JJ between her fingers, taking a slow drag from it and holding her breath.

John B stared at her, eyebrows raised. He knew what was coming, she said it all the time.

“You're drooling. And desperation looks ugly on you.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He knew she was right.

“Wishful thinking, bro. Our two worlds do not mix. And,” she said, pointing a finger in his chest, “Kie would hate you.”

He hummed. “I know, I know.”

“What's your fascination with that, anyway?”

“I don't know. There's just something about her.”

“Well, can you maybe try to find your ‘something’ with someone who doesn't think we're garbage?”

John B rolled his eyes, shoving Atlas' shoulder. They changed the subject.

“Pretty successful kegger, if I do say so myself,” he said.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Booker,” she mused.

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed her a $20 bill, the ratty bifold was emptier than it had been two days ago. He had to stop betting his hard-earned money on the stupid things they did around the island. “For surfing the surge,” he said.

“Nah, keep it. You didn't get caught today, remember?”

“Thanks to you.”

“Eh, I've done worse,”

The sun had set and the moon took its place, illuminating the boneyard in a silver glow. John B decided it was probably the best kegger they'd thrown yet; Atlas agreed ― minus the addition of Sarah Cameron. It had been the perfect way to keep their heads down and the sheriff off of their backs. Thanks to Atlas, there was no reason the rest of their plan shouldn't go on without any trouble.

They crossed the beach in search of their friends, a few hours passed since they last saw Kiara or Pope, or even JJ for that matter. The mood simmered down to that of the tapering of a successful party, with the attendees all doing their own thing as the evening wound down. It was late, and a couple of people began shuffling their way home but not before thanking the two Pogues in some way for throwing the rager.

JJ found them in the dispersing crowd. He ran up with two more cups full of booze, Atlas was sure there was something other than just beer mixed in as he passed one to John B. “John B, Atlas. There they are,” he said excitedly. “My two favourite people!”

“Yo, what's up? What are you doing?” John B reached a hand out to steady his inebriated best friend, a smile on his face.

“I got this one for you. You want this one?” JJ continued, looking down into the second cup.

“For me? Yeah, I'll take a sip.” The blunt Atlas smoked during her talk with John B had worked its way through her system and he could tell she was loose, relaxed. JJ could ask her to follow him full speed into the ocean and she'd do it without a second thought. But as she wrapped her fingers around the drink in his hands, he pulled it back to him and she frowned.

Sarah's voice sounded just behind his right shoulder, “Hi.”

JJ smirked wickedly; the brunet frowned. “Oh, wait. Hey, hey. Hey, Sarah!” he called out and waited for Sarah and Topper to stop beside them. John B wished he wouldn't. “Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?”

“No, thanks,” she turned him down. John B's frown matched Atlas', they knew where the interaction was going before JJ opened his mouth to speak again. And Atlas really hated Sarah.

“Come on. Is it not fancy enough for you?” he prodded.

“No, we were just leaving.”

“Hey, you know what? I'll take it. I'll― Thank you, man. I appreciate it,” Topper said. He reached by Sarah for the cup, and JJ pulled it away.

JJ sneered. “All right, you know what? That's a nice suggestion there, Topper, but I didn't ask you. Now, if you said pretty please, maybe―but you didn't.”

“Oh, pretty please. Pretty please?”

“Yeah, so. Sarah. I promise, you can have it.”

“She doesn't want it, you―” Topper slapped the bottom of the cup, spilling the contents down the front of JJ's shirt. They knew where things were going before they even began.

In the blink of an eye, JJ rushed forward to grab Topper's shirt, only to be pushed back by John B. “No, no, no, no, no.”

“You're so funny, man,” JJ yelled.

Atlas and Pope flanked their leader. The stench of alcohol burned his nose and he wondered what his mischievous best friend had mixed in that cup. They couldn't afford a fight tonight, more than that, they couldn't afford a fight with the Kooks. John B knew JJ better than anyone, except maybe Atlas. He knew when provoked he became unhinged in the blink of an eye. Calming him down before things got out of hand was their main priority.

“Hey,” John B tried.

“Let it go, J. Just let it go.” Atlas used the sleeve of her button-down to wipe the liquid from his face, his blue eyes were startlingly feral as he looked between her and John B. They recognized that look, knowing it was too late.

Topper made it worse. “Dirty Pogues!” he yelled across the gap separating them. He eyed Atlas and John B's skin itched with anger. “And you? Just can't stay away, can you? The sheriff can try all she wants but you will always be nothing but your daddy's damaged goods!”

John B's heart broke when Atlas didn't react. She stood stunned in the middle of the small group that gathered around them, all eyes glued to her. Everyone knew, everyone heard the story of the little girl saved by Sheriff Peterkin. But they didn't know it all, not even John B knew. No matter how many times he asked about it, if she knew, she refused to tell him.

Without thinking, John B laid a gentle hand in the crook of her arm, pushed her behind him toward JJ, and shoved Topper in the chest. Call him and JJ and the rest of the Pogues whatever he wanted, but Atlas? He barely registered the sound of Sarah's shrill voice as she pleaded for him to leave it alone. He couldn't, he wouldn't. Not ever.

But then Topper reared back and hit him square in the face.

“Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, all right?” Topper shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. He kicked the boy in the water, and the crowd chanted for a fight. John B stood and tackled Topper to the ground.

“John B, let it go, man,” Pope called to him.

“Stop, you guys!” Kiara screamed too.

John B would do anything for Atlas and JJ.

Time slowed to a crawl. In the next moment, Topper lifted John B over his shoulder and threw him in the tide; when he didn't stand, the taller boy grabbed at his shoulders and held his face down in the water.

“JJ, do something. He's gonna fuckin' drown him!” A voice over the roaring waves called out. Atlas. But what could they do? Her voice sounded bitter, cold. He wanted to tell them not to get involved, to let it go. But he couldn't.

JJ moved like a shadow. “Yeah, you know what that is. Your move, broski,” his voice dripped with malice and spite, the same fire running through his veins that John B swore he saw in Atlas' eyes.

“JJ! Put the gun down,” Sarah said, stepping toward him.

“Did you say somethin', Princess?”

“We're good. We're good. All right, come on, man.” John B cherished the sound of a Kook begging for his life. Especially when that Kook did nothing but make their lives a living hell.

“Put the gun down! Kie, can you check your psycho friend, please?” Sarah turned to Kiara and Pope. They did nothing.

Atlas marched up to the girl and sized her up easily. Sarah stepped back. “What the hell did you just say?”

“You should keep your psycho brother on a leash!”

“Unless you want things to get real bad, real fast, I suggest you check your tone.”

“Okay, everyone, listen up!” JJ let go of Topper and turned to address the mass of teens watching the commotion from the beach.

People often said the craziest part of JJ and Atlas being as close as they were was how much they mirrored each other. The term “twins” had never suited two people more than the way it did them. And when people discovered they weren't even siblings, that was when the real fear set in. Looking at the two teenagers now, anyone could see why.

Back to back, they stood, JJ's left hand clasped Atlas' right one. They positioned themselves between Topper and John B and the rest of the group. The friends moved as a whole unit, thinking as one mind. JJ continued addressing the crowd.

“Get the hell off our side of the island.” He raised his right hand in the air and fired the gun twice, and everyone scattered. The party ended. He released Atlas' hand and she ran to the water's edge; they'd figure the rest out later.

Behind them, John B heard JJ speak his final sentence to Topper Thornton, “Don't ever speak to my sister again. Got that?”

He raised glassy, unseeing eyes to Atlas' pained expression and let the sway of the waves carry him back.

John B: There's something about my father I haven't mentioned. The week before he went missing, he says to me, “Bird, I think I found something. Your Uncle T's gonna come stay for a while. I might have to vanish for a bit.” So, he talks about vanishing, and he vanishes. Everyone says he was lost at sea, but. . .he's still out there. I know it.

John B woke startled with no memory of how he got home.

Footsteps down the hallway alerted him to another presence in the Château, but he had no idea who. His breathing quickened, and he remained unmoving. Sheriff Peterkin rounded the corner into his room, she stood above him and for a split second, he wondered if he was hallucinating.

“Get decent, sweetie,” she said. “We need to talk.”

She left him to change, he pulled on clean board shorts and made his way to the front room. Atlas sat on the couch looking like she'd been caught with her hands in the cookie jar; then John B remembered how he got home. He sent her a crooked smile that she returned with a bashful one of her own. I don't deserve you, Attie.

“Sorry to break in like this, but DCS called. They wanted me to check on you. See how you're doin'. So, how are you, besides the―” the sheriff said. Her unfinished question hung in the air, she gestures to her face. John B's eye bruised up in the night while he slept despite Atlas' attempts to take care of it.

He shrugged. “Oh, no, I'm― I'm great. Yeah, fantastic. Uh, thanks for comin' by.” He glanced at Atlas on the couch. “Attie, don't you have work today? Don't want to be late, I'll give you a ride.”

“Uh-uh, hold it. You know, I'm so glad to hear you say that, John B, but I heard a few things that worried me. Some things that include my daughter. Let me see if I can remember. . .”

Atlas shook her head as if to say I didn't tell her and John B relaxed. Whatever the sheriff was getting at, she has no idea. She hadn't gone home the night before, choosing to sleep on the couch to avoid her for that exact reason.

Sheriff Peterkin walked slowly to the wall with the family photos hanging on it. She eyed the picture of John B's uncle. “Oh yeah,” she said. “One of the things I heard was that your Uncle Teddy, your guardian, hasn't been in the state for three months.”

“Yeah, that's false,” he lied easily. His eye hurt.

“You don't have to say anything, I know it's true. I called the school. They said you used to be a good student, but now you're failin' all your classes.”

“No. No, I'm only failing one, and it's history. The dude's a dick, he's out for me. But At―”

“And I heard there was a fight on the beach yesterday, and a gun was involved.”

“Okay. Gun? No.” John B patted the sheriff's shoulder. “Did I get in a dust-up? Yes, but was there a gun? No. No way. Ask Atlas, she brought me home, took care of my eye, we watched the stars, and then fell asleep.”

The sheriff hummed. She wasn't buying a word of the boy's story. She looked across the room at Atlas. “That's okay. I know who it was. I'll get to him. All I'm worried about right now is makin' sure you're in a safe home. And you're not gettin' Atlas mixed up in anything she shouldn't be.”

“Yeah, super safe. Super sound, sturdy,” John B assured.

Atlas groans. “I'm fine, Sheriff. The fight wasn't even that bad.”

“And, Uncle T's comin' back, so. . .”

“That what he told you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if he really is comin' home, I think you should be allowed to stay. But if I stick my neck out for you, you have to help me. Tit for tat.”

“What does tat mean?”

Atlas laughed. “Jesus, Booker.”

Sheriff Peterkin met John B and Atlas across the room. She had a plan, they could see it in her eyes. If she wasn't sure about them being involved in the Grady-White business before, she certainly suspected it now. She looked first at her foster daughter and then at John B. “Let me see, how can you help me? Oh, I know. So, a body was found in the marsh yesterday. Were you two in the marsh yesterday?”

John B nodded. “Yeah, we were fishin' for some drum.”

“You catch anything?” the sheriff asked.

“Nah, we were skunked.”

“Strange. Fishin's usually good after a storm. All sorts of things get stirred up.” She turned to Atlas. “You come across a wreck yesterday?”

“No,” the girl answered. She pushed her eyebrows together. “What are you saying?”

“You skimmin' just above the surface, John B. Now, down here is foster care, juvie. Atlas can tell you―foster care ain't all that nice, is it? Pretty big drop for a smart kid like you.” She held her hand at eye level. “Up here is you and your little friends, Atlas included, doing whatever you want. Outer Banks. . .or foster care on the mainland.”

John B reeled back.

He knew the sheriff meant what she said, knew he could be moments away from leaving the island if he made one wrong move. And what about Atlas? What would happen to her and JJ without him? It was never just about him, he always had them to think about too. He couldn't risk it. But a small part of him still wanted to.

The sheriff put her hand up silencing Atlas before she said anything further. “You one inch above the surface, John B. If I was you, I'd start flappin' my wings. Now, you sure you ain't come across a wreck yesterday?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure.” John B's heart pounded against his ribcage. He understood why Atlas spent so much time away from home.

“It's better if you didn't, you understand? I'm gonna look the other way, as long as you stay out of the marsh. And, I won't send Atlas to the mainland for the summer, so long as you stay out of the marsh.”

John B and Atlas sat in complete silence as they watched Sheriff Peterkin's squad car leave the property. Neither one spoke about what they'd been told, too shocked to say anything, but they were both thinking the same thing ― somehow they had to convince JJ to give up his silly dream of looting Scooter Grubbs' Grady-White. It was a pipe dream. If it meant John B didn't have to worry about DCS breathing down his neck and Atlas got to stay on the island for the summer, it was worth giving up. But how would they convince JJ of that?

John B paced the length of the front room, his nerves were in overdrive. Sheriff Peterkin's threat held up as well as anyone, she'd made herself the authority over John B in such a way that seemed impossible to break away from. The only thing left to do was forget the Grady-White existed.

“You and I both know JJ's not gonna give up, Booker,” Atlas said.

“Well, we have to make him. I can't go into foster care, Attie,” John B panicked.

The sound of JJ's dirt bike coming up the gravel driveway alerted the duo that their time was up. Atlas breathed a deep sigh, it was now or never. “Let's go talk some sense into him, then.”

John B stared over the water as everyone lounged in his backyard. He needed to tell them, he had to put a stop to their heist before it was too late. He wouldn't be responsible for ruining the summer for Atlas. He knew what JJ was going to say, and he felt bad for letting his best friend down. But Atlas was his best friend too, and she was counting on him to help her stay local.

“Look, I'm callin' it off. All right? Peterkin said, if I stay out of the marsh, she'll help me with DCS.”

“And you believed her?” JJ asked, incredulous.

“Yes, I believe her, JJ. Not just for me. She said she'll let Attie stay on the Outer Banks for the whole summer. But we have to stay out of the marsh.”

“An actual cop, John B. You believed a cop.”

“Yeah, and that cop is kinda like my mom or whatever, so. . .” Atlas said, shrugging. She hated when JJ got like that, they all did.

“Your foster mom. Okay? So, I don't wanna hear it from you.”

“All I gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple days, and she'll help me out. It doesn't help that your ass was the one who was shootin' a gun.”

JJ threw a rock somewhere in the distance. “You know what I should have done, man? I should've just let Topper drown your ass.”

“Yeah, because Topper was gonna drown me?”

“It sure looked like it.”

“That's really funny,” John B said.

“I mean, have you looked in a mirror recently?” the blond continued.

“Keep going, come on. Tell me some more. Come on.”

“They always win, don't they, man?” John B understood JJ wasn't just talking about the rich snobs from Figure Eight. His resentment ran deeper, much deeper. “Kooks versus Pogues. They always, always win! Goddamn!”

“Look, it's okay!” Kiara said when it became clear neither of the boys were backing down.

JJ disagreed. “No, it's not okay! It is not! They don't want us to go down into the marsh. That means there's something valuable down there, and you know it. I know you do.” He looked at Pope who had been silent through the whole exchange. “And I understand why you don't wanna go. You're the golden boy. You got way too much to risk. And you”―he turned to Kiara―“I mean, you're already rich as fuck anyway. Why would you bother?”

Atlas nodded; harsh but true.

To John B, he said, “But you and me, man, and Atlas. . .we got nothin' to lose! We really don't, all right? And I know, it didn't use to be that way for you.”

“I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to talk about it.” John B had enough. He stepped off of the porch intending to leave the conversation behind. Why did he ever think he could get JJ on his side for once?

“So that's it?”

“Just get out of my way, bro.”

“J, let him go, all right?” Atlas pulled on his arm, hoping to redirect his attention but he was too wrapped up in what he wanted from John B to listen to her. 

He followed after the older boy. One way or another, he was going to get his idea across. “John B, listen to me. I have a plan. You got the key to Cameron's big boat, right?”

“No,” he said.

“There's scuba gear,” he continued in a rush. “We borrow that, and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon, and that is what's gonna save you, man. You and Attie. You don't see rich kids going into foster care, do you? So, you take Attie with you as a lookout, borrow the gear, we'll meet up back here and go loot that wreck. It's the perfect plan!”

“A perfectly stupid plan that will get all of us thrown in juvie if we get caught,” Atlas said coming up behind them.

“Which is why my favourite big sister won't let that happen, will she?”

“You wish I was your sister, JJ. And, you dont have to kiss up to me. I'm in.”

John B: You know, I should have learned a long time ago to never listen to JJ. He's full of bad ideas, like stealing from my rich boss. And bringing Atlas along as an accomplice. But this time, he was right. I had nothing to lose.

My dad said the island was like America on steroids. The haves and have-nots like anyplace, but magnified and multiplied. The way I see it, the game's rigged. Maybe it always has been. And with no parents, no money, and no one looking out for me, I got no chance. . .unless I make it on my own.

John B drove the HMS Pogue up behind the familiar boat owned by the Camerons. It was too late to turn back. He tied the Pogue to the anchor on the dock behind the My Druthers, a remark from Atlas about the boat's stupid name had him smiling to himself as he quietly left her in the Pogue. He held his finger up to his lips, a signal to stay quiet, though he knew he didn't have to worry about her giving them away. That was one area where she and JJ differed.

John B sneaked onto the yacht quiet as church mice, cautious of the fact Sarah sat in her backyard with her friends. John B knew Atlas hated her, he wanted to know why but didn't want to risk upsetting her in the middle of their mission. He waited for her signal, then dropped his bag onto the deck of the Druthers, when he was sure no one had noticed, he followed. He made his way down below, leaving Atlas out in the HMS Pogue to watch for the first sign of trouble.

He was certain he'd make it off of the boat without a hitch after placing the tanks and gear in his bag. He locked the door and headed above deck, a weight lifting off his shoulders until. . .

“Oh! Hey! Are you stalking us? Plotting your revenge?” Sarah Cameron.

Where the hell is Atlas' signal? John B scoffed, “Yeah. You know what, why don't you just tell your daddy I blew the bilge on the Druthers? Everything's good to go. Just toppin' off these tanks.”

Sarah went after him down to the lower deck where he climbed back into the HMS Pogue. “Hey, are you okay? 'Cause, that eye of yours looks really gnarly.”

“Yeah, you can tell Topper he won the first round. I'll get him next time.”

“So there's just gonna be a reign of terror on this island now?”

“You know, wars have been started for less, Sarah Cameron.” He still didn't see Atlas.

“Okay. Can we drop the whole Pogues versus Kooks thing? It is really stupid,” Sarah sighed.

John B glanced up at her where she leaned over the edge of the My Druthers. “You know, that's easy to say when you're a Kook.” She flipped him off.

He started the engine on the Pogue and waited a few minutes to be sure Sarah was on the other side of the yacht, then whistled a high note and waited ten seconds before whistling again. Atlas pulled herself over the starboard side of the Pogue.

“Dude, what the hell? What happened to being my lookout?”

Atlas wrung the water from her hair and peeled her t-shirt and shorts from her body. She balled the wet garments up and threw them at John B's head, and he ducked. “She came running down the dock and I didn't have time to worry about you getting caught when at least you get paid to be here. I don't. Besides, sounds like you had it handled.”

“That a hint of jealousy I hear, Attie?”

“In your dreams, Routledge.”

John B was antsy. His hair stuck to his neck in the sweltering heat of the afternoon. The closer the Pogues got to the marsh, the more agitated he noticed Atlas had become. In recent years, she'd developed more of a knack for disobeying the sheriff's direct orders, usually based on helping JJ. This time, he reasoned, was no different. If JJ was going to go down for this, so would Atlas.

He couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with Sarah before they left the Druthers. Why did she care so much about what he thought of her and the Kooks? It's not like they'd ever be accepted into Kook society anyway. And what did it matter if he fought Topper again? After all, wasn't that what Dirty Pogues did? The more he thought about Topper, the angrier he felt.

John B sat down next to Atlas as they came to a halt in the marsh where they discovered the wreck the day before. He lightly bumped her shoulder with his. “You good, Attie?”

She nodded, smiling. “Mmhm. Always.”

He moved a strand of hair caught in her lashes and tucked it behind her ear. “Thanks for being here,” he said quietly. “I know it kinda puts you in a lot of trouble with your mom.”

“I can handle the sheriff,” she said.

John B frowned. Atlas never called Sheriff Peterkin “Mom,” and he didn't think she ever would. Suddenly he felt guilty for bringing her into his mess. Atlas knew him like the back of her hand.

“Wouldn't miss this crazy shit for the world, Booker,” she assured him.

“Hey. Quit flirting with my sister,” JJ cut in, throwing Atlas' still-wet t-shirt between them. She sent him a dissatisfied glare; she wouldn't trade him for anything.

Kiara inspected the oxygen tanks John B and Atlas made off with. She scowled. “John B, this is empty. You took empty tanks. This one's a quarter full. It's enough for one of us.”

“Love it when a plan comes together,” Pope joked dryly. They couldn't blame him for his attitude, he had too much at stake but he was with them all the same.

“Does anybody know how to dive?” Kiara asked, posing the important question to the group.

“It's kind of a Kook sport,” said JJ.

“Surfing is more our speed,” Atlas agreed.

Pope raised his hand. “I. . .read about it.”

“Great, Pope read about it, so someone's gonna die.”

“You're too much of a pessimist, Kie,” Atlas sighed.

“Look, y-you put the thing in your mouth and breathe. How hard could it be?” JJ handed his cap to Atlas.

“Well, if you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood, and you get the bends,” Pope told him.

The blond bent over, pushing his butt out into the air. “Bends like, bend over and. . .”

“The bends kill you.”

“Right.”

John B read the pained expression on Atlas' face and knew she was thinking about what could happen to any one of them if they were to dive and something went wrong. He thought of how his world would end if anything were to happen to JJ or Atlas. He took a deep breath. “I can― I can dive.”

“Yeah, you can dive. I'm cool with that,” JJ decided.

“I'm not,” Atlas disagreed.

“Since when can you dive?” Kiara asked for both of them.

“I'll do it. It's fine,” he said.

Pope grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and began drawing and writing out some kind of formula related to diving. No one knew how it was going to work, but it was worth whatever knowledge Pope could lend to the situation. “Let me do some calculations real quick. So, that boat's about 30 feet down, right? So it'll take 25 minutes at most at that depth. Which means you need to make your safety stop at about. . .ten feet. All right? For two minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah. 10 feet, two minutes. Got it,” John B repeated back.

Kiara stood from her spot on the boat and shrugged out of her t-shirt, wordlessly she jumped into the water and disappeared beneath the surface. John B looked over at Atlas who shook her head.

“What was that all about?” asked Pope.

“I don't know, but I liked it. A lot,” JJ answered, staring after Kiara. Atlas leaned over and punched his thigh.

“You're despicable.”

“Uh, so. . .”

“All righty.” Pope didn't ask what happened between them.

JJ cleared his throat and took his hat back. He whacked Atlas in the shoulder with it and turned to John B. “Yeah, uh. . . When you're down there, you look for the cargo hold. You stick this thing inside and twist and pull, okay?”

“Stick it in the hole, twist and pull.” John B put the oxygen tank on his back.

“Yeah, my dad moved some weight back in the day.”

Kiara resurfaced. “Hey! I tied my t-shirt to the anchor chain about ten feet down. It's where you need to do your safety stop.”

“Cool.”

“Keep an eye on this. You need to make sure you have enough air to decompress,” Pope said, handing John B the regulator.

“Okay, how much do I need?”

“Unclear. Breathe as little as possible.”

“Zen. Think zen, you know?” JJ offered.

“Hey, if we get caught out here in the marsh, we're basically screwed, so. . . Better get a move on.”

Just then John B felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. You're named after a Titan and I'm the one that feels like everything is too heavy. He sighed, pulling Atlas off to the edge of the boat. “Hey. Don't get caught out here for me,” he said.

“Eh, I've done worse,” she answered. She gave him her signature two-finger salute. “As you were, John B.”

“Diver down?”

“Diver down.”

John B disappeared beneath the water's surface.

There was a certain poetry to going out like that. Things always came around full circle, maybe this was theirs? A mournful feeling washed away the excitement as he grappled with every single thing that led up to that point; gone in the blink of an eye, and all he could think to do was keep going.

He didn't know how long he'd been down there, wasn't sure how much time had passed when he made it to the bottom of the marsh floor. He tried to keep his mind on finding the cargo hold and securing whatever was inside of it. He followed the instructions JJ gave him, grabbed the bag that was inside and headed for the surface.

He searched for Kiara's t-shirt tied to the anchor's chain for his safety stop. Two minutes was all he had. And then a boat pulled up beside the Pogue. They were screwed. John B's nerves shot up when he saw Atlas take a deep breath and sink below the water.

Their gazes met and John B didn't need to be above water to know it was the sheriff's department, the look on her face told him so. He was about to hit the two-minute mark on his safety stop and there was nothing they could do, they were stranded until the cops left. Atlas reached for the bag in his hand and he let her take it. She grabbed his other hand with her free one and laced their fingers together.

He wasn't sure what to make of the strange moment passing between them there. And when she squeezed his hand three times, at ten-second intervals between each one, his heart plummeted. He understood, he had to. No one knew her better, except maybe JJ. Promise me you'll take care of him. She was making a loaded request of him, right there and then. And how could he say no? How could she ask? But she had, and he accepted because he was John B. He'd do anything for his crew. He'd do anything for her.

John B knew that in a perfect world, this was how Atlas wanted to die. In the water, her favourite place to be, with her best friend to watch over her soul until it quietly left the Earth. . .

They checked the timer on the oxygen tank, he had less than ten seconds to get out of the water.

Atlas released his hand and he wished she'd come back. He could barely feel his heart beating anymore, all he could think about was her leaving their friends behind. He knew as soon as the cops were gone she'd push John B to the surface and make sure he lived to tell the tale of their adventures. Atlas, the girl who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. . .

The two-minute mark ended. John B was not going to let her die down there.

When the deputy's boat was out of sight and Atlas shoved the bag back in his arms and motioned for him to swim up, he shook his head. He refused to go without her. He didn't care that he was out of air and wasting time; John B was not leaving Atlas behind.

His head broke through the surface and the Pogues sighed in relief, he pulled the mask from his face and selfishly gulped air into his lungs before disappearing again. He grabbed Atlas by the arm and pulled her up behind him. Never leave a Pogue behind. It wasn't just a rule, it was a way of life.

John B didn't say what he was thinking as he dragged Atlas from the water. He sat next to her in understanding silence, letting the moment that passed between them in the water drift away somewhere in its icy depths. He wouldn't mention it unless she did. He understood Atlas well enough to know that what happened between them in the marsh, stayed between them in the marsh. And how would he look his best friend in the eye and tell him that the girl he saw as his sister was willing to die for them anyway? He couldn't, not today.

“Hey, guys? Guys, bogey, two o'clock,” Kiara cut through his swirling thoughts and he wasn't thinking about losing Atlas to the darkness of the marsh anymore.

All eyes were on the boat speeding toward them with no intention of stopping.

“Do you recognize that boat?” Pope asked, pulling John B and Atlas from the haze of their near-death experience.

“I've never seen it,” Kiara denied. “What are they doing back there? The marsh is closed?”

“I don't know, but let's not stick around to find out,” JJ said. And then, “Attie, you don't think it's the sheriff, do you?”

Atlas shook her head. “No. She wouldn't come out here for us, she has Deputy Dumbass for that. She'd wait for us on land at John B's.”

“JJ get the bowline,” John B instructd. He patted Atlas on the shoulder and moved to the wheel.

“Should we wait on 'em?” Pope asked.

“No, we're not gonna wait on 'em. Go get the stern.”

“Guys, don't wait for me. Don't wait for me,” JJ said, struggling with the anchor and Atlas rushed to help him. Together they pulled the anchor up as John B headed out of the marsh, eyes cast on the boat in front of them.

“I don't like the look of this,” said John B. “Are they coming for us?”

“Maybe they were fishing for drum too. . .” It was an innocent thought, the benefit of the doubt, but something told John B it didn't apply to the men ahead of them. “Go into the marsh.”

“I'm going. Act natural.”

“B, I hate to say this, but we don't have time for natural. Those aren't the sheriff's men.” The other boat came into view and Atlas was certain she had never seen the men on it before. They picked up speed, turning into the marsh behind the Pogue. “Hey, guys. They're following us!”

JJ frantically patted John B's arm. “You gotta go faster!”

“I'm going! I'm going!”

“Gun it!”

A gunshot went off and bullets flew by the side of the Pogue. John B sped through the marsh.

“Yep. Definitely not the cops!” Atlas shrieked.

“John B, get down!” JJ threw himself across Atlas' body as another spray of bullets arced through the air. Another shot went off and they flinched, clinging to each other on the bottom of the Pogue. As Atlas twisted around under JJ, his arm slipped. “Quit movin',” he scolded.

“Kie, the net!” she shouted over the din. She crawled out from under JJ and maneuvered over Pope. “Come help me!”

“Atlas, Kie, get down!” John B called as he worked to put distance between them and their pursuers. Another bullet whizzed by his head. . .all of this for whatever he found in the Grady-White, he was sure of it.

The girls tied a rope to the fishing net and made their way to the rear of the boat. Together they lobbed it into the water behind them, it caught the propeller of the boat. They cleared its vicinity and fled a spray of gunshots.

“Holy shit!” Pope yelled.

“Booyeah! Pogue god, man! That's my sister!” JJ celebrated with him.

In everyone's excitement, they missed the wound on Atlas' shoulder.

It was well after sunset when the Pogues reached home.

John B pulled the HMS Pogue in to moor at the end of his dock, and they all sat under the gazebo. Adrenaline coursed through their veins; two near-death experiences for two of the crew and the Pogues were jazzed up. The bag John B pulled from the wreck hung at his side, he was eager to open it up and find out what was inside, but his mind wandered. He thought back to the moment underwater with Atlas when she said goodbye and he could do nothing but take it.

When it came down to dying for her best friend or spending the summer apart, Atlas chose John B without hesitation. Whatever was in the bag, he promised none of his friends would ever have to make that sacrifice again.

“What do you guys think it is?” Kiara asked, waiting excitedly for John B to open it up.

“Well, it's gotta be money or something, right?” he said, looking it over.

JJ nodded. “That or a couple of keys with street value to the low- to mid-mils.”

Atlas pushed him over. “In your dreams, Maybank. Pogies don't get the good stuff.”

“Yeah, shut up.” He smiled.

Pope paced the length of the dock between the boat and his friends. The anticipation rolling off of him was heavy. He stopped and climbed the railing on John B's right. “Can we please just open the bag?”

“Wow, Pope.” John B looked up at his friend with a mocking shocked expression in his eyes. “That's a rare outburst of emotion coming from you.”

Atlas giggled. “Damn, Pope. It's like we almost died to get this, huh?”

“Shut up, Siren.” Pope rolled his eyes. “Okay. You guys are literally killing me with anticipation. Just open the bag. We almost died over this.”

Atlas nearly fell over laughing.

John B undid the ties on the bag and pulled it open, he pulled out a thermos and twisted the lid off. No one spoke. He turned it over, dumping the contents into his hand. In his palm rested an antique he immediately recognized; he flipped it open. A lump formed in his throat.

“Oh, wow. Yup. That's about right. Good job, everybody. We found a compass,” Pope complained.

“Hey, Pope? Shut up,” Atlas chided. She knew the look on John B's face well, too well.

“Dude, what? It's not worth anything,” said JJ, disappointment lingering in his voice. He swatted Atlas' hand away when she pinched his side.

“John B?” Atlas called softly. She knelt beside him and rested her right hand on his left, the compass held carefully between their palms, her thumb gently stroking over his.

They hadn't talked about what happened in the water, but they needed to. It could wait; at that moment, John B needed more from her than what she gave him at the wreck.

She squeezed his fingers, a promise to stick by him no matter what. She searched his face for answers.

“What is it, Book?”

“This was my father's,” his words hung in the air. A beat passed, and no one spoke. John B looked up at Atlas. There was hope in those warm brown eyes, and she already knew what was coming next.

🏷: @chilling-seavey