#and John :( he’s just so good. too good. it really could be him to and that sucks so bad

[gloomwitchwrites]

141 when a younger recruit has a very obvious crush on you (not dating yet)

Oh, anon. I had fun with this one. Simply because it's a "we aren't dating yet so why are you jealous" scenario just waiting to happen. That's where my mind went with this. The boys have zero claim on you but they are possessive and territorial as fuck. omg. Do you hear that? It's me standing outside screaming because I need to get a fucking grip. Anyway! Enjoy!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (gn!reader except on Simon's)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): hidden feelings, jealousy, possessive behavior, intimidation, crushes, suggestive themes, swearing

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

John is the superior here. He's the one in charge.

Yet he feels completely out of control.

This isn't happening. This isn't fucking happening. He has spent months—months gently putting himself before you. Jealousy and possession are strange to him. They don’t come easy. And yet here they are, eating him from the inside out, chewing away at his resolve.

Anger and irritation are starting to seep in.

A new recruit with an obvious crush shouldn't make him this irate. There isn't any competition, but John can't help himself. All he sees is this wanker making eyes at you, speaking softly and with such tenderness that it's driving John up the fucking wall.

Which is insane. Stupid. You do not belong to him. The two of you are not dating—not anything—but somehow that doesn't matter.

His feet are moving before he even realizes it. The recruit turns in John's direction and instantly pales.

Good. Fucking good.

You turn too, brow furrowed.

"Captain?" asks the recruit, straightening his spine.

John shoves himself between, staring the recruit down, all venom. "You're wanted elsewhere."

"Y—yes. Sir."

The recruit salutes and takes off, the primal jealousy purring softly with contentment.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is going to grind his teeth into dust if he doesn’t unclench his jaw.

What the fuck is this bloke doing over on this side of the complex anyway? He’s a goddamn new recruit. Freshly arrived and still green.

Do you even realize he’s flirting? Kyle can tell just be the way he stands far too close, or the subtle way he touches your arm. His smile is stupidly large. The man is completely struck by you. You appear completely oblivious, having a conversation with him like there’s nothing amiss.

Nope. Kyle is pissed. Furious. Which is fucking ridiculous. The two of you are not a couple, even though Kyle wishes otherwise.

“You look right scunnered.” Soap appears at Kyle’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“That,” he growls.

Soap frowns, following Kyle’s line of sight. Soap’s frown turns to a knowing smirk. He turns it on Kyle with a mischievous glint. “Want Ghost to scare the shit out of him?”

The rest of the team knows how Kyle feels about you even if they don’t comment on it.

“That would be great,” says Kyle flatly.

Soap lightly pats Kyle’s shoulder. Turning around, he cups his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Lt!”

John "Soap" MacTavish

"I could rig an explosive. Put it under his bunk. That’d be fucking brilliant,” murmurs Johnny.

"We're looking to scare him. Not to maim everyone in his immediate radius,” replies Kyle.

"What about a firework? Poppers? Oh! A stink bomb?"

"That’s fucking childish, Johnny,” mutters Simon.

Johnny isn't jealous. Really, he's not.

He's just...protective. That's what he tells himself anyway.

Kyle, Johnny, and Simon observe you from across the communal gym. A new recruit from the latest batch is hanging on the ropes of the boxing ring. His stance is casual, skin glistening with sweat as he gives you his best smile while he chats you up.

The lad is putting it on thick, and Johnny is having none of it.

You are not Johnny’s spouse. You are not dating. You are not his…anything.

But that hardly matters.

Because Johnny has stolen plenty of kisses from you. He’s put his hands on your body. He’s been far too close for the comfort of a coworker or friend. In that, there is a claim. Johnny can draw the line somewhere.

He is so close to making you his.

No one is getting in his way. Not even a charming new recruit.

Simon "Ghost" Riley (Female Reader)

"Don't do it, Simon. It's not worth it."

Johnny's words don't satiate the anger. Rage is boiling beneath Simon's skin. It is white hot—fierce. All of this emotion and yet Simon has no claim over you.

It still hurts. Still aches.

The two of you are not together—not dating. But it's Simon's name you scream with pleasure, and that counts for fucking something.

His fists clench, muscles coiled with wrought tension. Johnny places his hands on Simon's shoulders and shoves him back down in his seat. If Simon weren’t ready to flay his newest target alive, Johnny wouldn’t be so bold.

"Remove. Your. Hands," growls Simon, slowly.

Kyle grimaces, his gaze darting between Simon and Johnny. He looks ready to jump in if Johnny needs him.

"I'm doing this for you, Lt,” murmurs Johnny, even as his hands keep the pressure.

"She's mine."

"We know,” reply Johnny and Kyle in unison.

One of the new recruits is putting on his best performance, following you around like a lovesick puppy. Johnny is right. Simon can't go over there and knock the man to the ground, no matter how much he wants to.

"Take a deep breath, Lt."

"I'm trying."

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[wonderjanga]

Here's a stupid dumb crack idea you can't really die in Fawcett City like you can get hurt cartooningly but you can't die like getting hit in the head when it acts of like a mild inconvenience and gives you a headache and a scar but you won't die from it

If you leave faucet for a long time then you can die but everyone there is Immortal and kind of unaging unless you want to age

Captain marvel forgot to tell the Justice League this while fighting a villain who proceeded the flash when acts in the head

People in Fawcett don’t die. That was something the Justice League hadn’t known when Marvel had called them for help to fight some villain. Everything was going fine and dandy at first. They were winning, obviously, but then something just had to happen. A piece of the rubble somehow, you couldn’t ask any of them, fell on the fastest man alive who wasn’t able to dodge for whatever reason?Everyone, besides Marvel and the villain, who were still fighting by the way, went quiet as a mouse.

Supes: *looks horrified* “Oh my Rao! Flash!?” *flies over and lifts the rubble up*

Flash: *wobbly stands up, springing up and down like an accordion* (accordion squash)

Marvel and the villain didn’t even look their way, meanwhile, everyone is trying to get Flash to stop being a human accordion.

Supes: “Keep him still!”

GL: “I’m trying!” *using his ring to try and hold Wally still*

Batman: “Try harder.” *is trying to administer a sedative*

After that whole fiasco…

Marvel: “Hey, guys, I apprehended the villain. Where were you- why is Flash passed out on the floor.”

After they explained, seeing all their traumatized and scarred expressions, Marvel finally explained that in Fawcett, people couldn’t die. Not unless they wanted to anyways. When most Fawcitizens got hurt, they bounced back very similarly to Tom and Jerry. A wonderful demonstration of this conveniently happened when someone nearby just happened to run off a roof, hovered in the air for a solid fifteen seconds before looking down and then proceeding to fall. They then dug themselves out of the human shaped hole they left, dusted themselves off and walked off like nothing happened.

Safe to say, none of them wanted to come back to Fawcett after this. Though unfortunately, there are still times they have to visit.

Goon: *evil laughs and runs up to Batman and shoves a couple sticks of TNT into his hands*

Batman: *can’t safely throw it anywhere because of the civilians around so it blows up*

Goon: *pointing and laughing*

Batman: *standing there, somehow still alive and covered and soot. He blinks rapidly before grabbing his shark repellent and emptying the entire can on the goon’s face, eyes, and mouth*

As for why Bruce was so pressed to the point where he emptied an entire canister of shark repellent on the man? He could feel the soot everywhere. It somehow got under his mask so he feels it on every inch of skin near the upper part of his torso.

Don’t worry though, this chicanery happens to everyone else too. Like, every single Lantern that has entered Fawcett has taken a comically large hammer to head and has gotten a large bump as a result.

Marvel: *walking by when he does a double take seeing John* “Oh my Gods, what happened-”

GL(John Stewart): “I DON’T want to talk about it.”

Then there was the time Hawkgirl was chasing after a villain one time and they happened to get into Fawcett. She actually slipped on a conveniently placed banana peel. Then, the villain she was chasing stepped on a rake and got a good smack to the face.

Marvel: “Hawkgirl! What’re you doing here?” *flies down, happy to see his friend*

Hawkgirl: *gestures to the villain with a long red line down their face from the rake’s pole* “I was chasing them.”

Marvel: “Cool, cool, cool, uh… what happened to his face?”

Hawkgirl: “He stepped on a rake.”

*silence*

Hawkgirl: “Why do your people just have bananas and rakes laying around?”

Marvel: “What…?”

In conclusion, nobody besides the Fawcett heroes like being in Fawcett.

[deerainy]

I think that Dean is honestly one of the best eldest siblings ever written. I'm currently on season 9 and I'm still deeply affected by the ending of season 2. As an older sister myself who had to look after my little sister and fix up her wounds when my parents weren't around I know how it feels. It's so rare to see such a well portrayed parentified older sibling and I'm grateful for it. I particularly like how they are written, a lot of people hate Dean for his misogynistic view of women especially in the earlier seasons and honestly at first I was a little disturbed by it and then I realised it was actually so accurate, what I'm trying to say is that Dean never got to be a child, the way he jokes about literally everything and seems to be a 'womaniser' is because he wants to be noticed. I don't want anyone to start saying 'no it's because of his mommy issues' shut up it's not!!! He has to put on an act, a persona and he chose the persona of a womaniser who doesn't give a shit about anyone and doesn't care much about objectifying women in public because he wants to be seen that way. He wanted his little brother to look up to him and see a father figure. I know it doesn't make much sense really but I get it, it's hard because at the same time I'm very aware he's written by men and what I'm analysing is just my view on this but, to write a man who cries so often, who shows so often vulnerability that to men with a fragile masculinity see as 'pathetic' (aka John) seems to be opposing the other side of his character who is a douche bag, it seems to me that it was written purposely. Dean is nothing like his father, he isn't a douche with a fragile masculinity, he is vulnerable and he cares so deeply about everyone. He had to put up this persona in order to survive, because he needed to be seen as the tough guy with strength and who doesn't let women be his equal, he was playing the part of a misogynistic douche to survive. Again that's just how I see it, but his character development to me is honestly the biggest proof of that, he got tired over the years of playing this role and then Castiel arrived and I believe that he showed him that men are really nothing, that the world is much bigger than himself and I think Castiel's arrival gave him faith, it's a faith he had never had before, the proof that God exists no matter if he cares or not, he exists and that I think changed everything, he was saved by this angel who saw in him a great potential. For the first time in his life he was the first choice, he was seen as who he really is so he dropped his act and little by little became the good man he was always.

Again I'm pretty tired I should have been asleep hours ago and I'm just yapping but yeah I miss my sister and god he's so relatable, I wish an angel could save me like me when I'm tired

feel free to debate with me thehehe

i love to read too much into things like ik it's not that deep but leave me alone I like making things deep

[rayaswrittings]

One night, Every feeling

JJ Maybank x Fem!Cameron!Reader

Synopsis: On your birthday, surrounded by the Pogues’ love and chaos, the night takes an unexpected turn for you and JJ. After months of denying your feelings, an evening of dancing, teasing, and vulnerability becomes the tipping point. Caught in the haze of emotion and reckless abandon, you act on what you’ve always felt but were too afraid to admit. A night meant for celebration becomes the one where everything changes—one night filled with every unspoken feeling finally laid bare.

Warning(s): 18+ only! Minors DNI, Mature themes, Language, the whole nine. Also very long! Apologies for mistakes :/

The warm glow of string lights wrapped around Poguelandia, casting golden hues over the small haven as laughter and music echoed from inside. Tonight wasn’t about running from trouble or chasing treasure—it was your birthday, and for once, everything else could wait.

Pope stood in the middle of the Kildare island co, tying the finishing touches on a banner that read Happy Birthday, Trouble. The letters were uneven and slightly crooked, but he stepped back with a satisfied nod. “Perfect.”

“Perfectly lopsided,” Cleo teased from where she was setting up the speaker.

“Hey, it’s got character,” Pope defended, shooting her a mock glare.

“Yeah, yeah, good effort,” Kie chimed in, carrying a tray of mismatched cups to the table. “At least you’re trying.”

Meanwhile, Sarah was kneeling on a chair, carefully balancing as she added an oversized sparkler candle to the homemade cake. “This is gonna look amazing,” she declared.

“Or set the place on fire,” John B muttered, earning himself a swat on the arm.

“Relax,” Sarah said, grinning. “We’ve survived worse.”

JJ, leaning lazily against the doorway with a beer in hand, watched the commotion with a smirk. “You guys are really pulling out all the stops, huh?”

“You say that like you didn’t spend an hour arguing with Pope about the playlist,” Kie shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, music’s important,” JJ said, feigning offense. He held up his beer in a mock toast. “You’re welcome for the vibe, by the way.”

“Sure, JJ. Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Cleo said with a laugh, cranking up the music.

As the first notes of a familiar song filled the air, you stepped into the room, taking it all in—the decorations, the cake Cleo and Kie had made you, the way everyone was buzzing with energy.

“There she is!” Sarah cheered, hopping off the chair and rushing over to grab your arm. “Birthday girl, looking beautiful as ever!”

You laughed, letting her pull you further inside. “You guys didn’t have to do all this.”

“Of course we did,” Kie said, grinning. “It’s your day.”

“Yeah,” JJ added, his smirk widening. “And you only turn, what, thirty?”

“Ha-ha,” you deadpanned, shooting him a glare.

“Alright, alright, everyone shut up!” Sarah’s voice rose above the chatter, her hands cupped around her mouth. “It’s toast time!”

You groaned, sinking onto the couch. “Oh, God, no speeches.”

“Too late!” Sarah said, laughing as she grabbed a cup and raised it high.

“To my amazing, stubborn, sometimes infuriating sister, who somehow manages to keep us all in one piece while also causing at least half of the chaos we deal with,” Sarah began, her voice full of warmth and humor.

Everyone laughed, JJ the loudest. “She’s not wrong!”

Sarah rolled her eyes but smiled. “Shut up, JJ. Anyway, we love you, and we’re so glad you’re stuck with us. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” the group echoed, lifting their drinks before clinking cups and taking long sips.

JJ, still leaning against the doorway, tilted his cup toward you with a smirk. “To the only person who can give me a run for my money when it comes to trouble. I’m proud.”

“High praise coming from you, Maybank,” you teased, raising your drink.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he replied, his tone playful but his gaze lingering just a second longer than necessary.

The music shifted to a faster beat, and Sarah grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. “Nope, you’re not sitting this one out. Dance!”

Cleo was already swaying her hips to the rhythm, motioning for Kie to join her. “Come on, girl, birthday rule: you have to dance to at least three songs. Minimum.”

You laughed, letting them drag you to the middle of the room. As the music blared from the speaker, you lost yourself in the beat, spinning and laughing with your friends. Sarah twirled you around dramatically, while Cleo hyped you up with exaggerated cheers.

JJ watched from the edge of the room, a soft smile tugging at his lips as you danced. Pope nudged him. “You’re staring, man.”

“Shut up,” JJ muttered, taking another swig of his beer.

The music thumped through Poguelandia, and Cleo spun you around with a mischievous laugh. “Birthday girl’s got moves!”

Kie cheered, clapping along to the beat. “Yeahhh, I see you!”

Sarah leaned into John B on the couch, smirking as she watched the three of you take over the space near the speaker. “This is the most energy I’ve seen her have all day,” she joked, sipping from her cup.

“Alcohol does wonders,” John B teased back, earning a playful nudge from Sarah.

Meanwhile, JJ still leaned against the table, beer in hand, watching the scene unfold. His eyes lingered on you a beat too long, the way your hips swayed to the music and your head tipped back in laughter.

“Bro, you’re still staring?,” Pope said from beside him, smirking.

JJ didn’t even flinch. “Yeah? And?”

Pope raised his brows. “And maybe you should do something about it instead of looking like your about to combust”

JJ rolled his eyes and drained the rest of his beer. “Combust, my ass. I’m just appreciating the show.”

“Uh-huh,” Pope said, unconvinced. “What’s your excuse gonna be when I go out there and steal her for a dance?” He jokes, obviously knowing he would only ever choose Cleo.

JJ snorted. “Not happening, dude.”

Pope smirked. “Then prove it.”

JJ set his empty bottle on the table with a dramatic thud. “Fine. Watch and learn, Pope.”

Without hesitation, JJ sauntered toward the makeshift dance floor, his cocky grin in full effect. You caught sight of him as he approached, and the mischievous glint in his eyes made your heart skip.

“Finally decided to join the fun?” you teased as he stepped in front of you.

“Had to make sure you weren’t stealing the spotlight without me,” JJ shot back, his grin widening.

“Oh, I’m carrying this whole thing,” you joked, twirling in place. “Think you can keep up?”

“Please.” JJ grabbed your hand and spun you again, pulling you closer in one smooth motion. “I am the fun.”

The group cheered from the sidelines, John B letting out a loud whistle. “Yeah, J!”

Kie laughed, clapping. “Told you he’d cave eventually!”

Cleo leaned toward Pope, smirking. “That boy’s whipped.”

JJ ignored them all, his attention completely on you. The two of you fell into a rhythm effortlessly, his movements loose and confident as he guided you through the music.

“You’re not half bad,” you said, breathless from laughing and dancing.

JJ arched a brow. “Not half bad? Babe, I’m stealing the show.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Okay, keep telling yourself that.”

JJ twirled you again, catching you by the waist as you stumbled slightly. His grip lingered, and for a second, the teasing grin on his face softened.

“You’re killing it, though,” he said, his voice lower now, just loud enough for you to hear over the music.

The sudden sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, your breath hitching as his hands steadied you. But before the moment could stretch too long, he stepped back, smirking again. “But don’t let it go to your head.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart raced as you grabbed his hands and pulled him back toward you. “I don’t think you’re allowed to leave the dance floor yet.”

JJ laughed, spinning you one last time as the song ended. “Alright, birthday girl. What’s next? Shots or another dance?”

Before you could answer, Cleo stepped in, dragging you away playfully. “She’s mine now, Maybank. Go take five.”

JJ threw up his hands in mock defeat. “Fine, but don’t wear her out before the next song!”

As he retreated to grab another drink, he glanced back at you over his shoulder, his smirk lingering. Pope shook his head as JJ rejoined him. “You’re so obvious, man.”

JJ grinned, unbothered. “And you’re jealous you don’t have moves like me.”

Pope laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

But JJ wasn’t paying attention. His eyes drifted back to you, still dancing in the middle of the room, and for the first time all night, he let himself wonder if you had any idea what you were doing to him.

"You're gonna wear her out," Sarah teased from the couch, leaning into John B's shoulder.

"She's got this," Cleo said confidently, spinning you around.

JJ leaned back in his chair, watching as you danced with the girls. He tried to play it cool, his arms crossed over his chest, but the way his gaze lingered on you didn't go unnoticed.

"Sooo… are you just gonna sit there all night and stare?" Pope asked, nudging him.

JJ shrugged, not taking his eyes off the scene in front of him. "Someone's gotta make sure nobody gets too wild."

"Uh-huh," Pope said, clearly not buying it.

The song shifted again, this time to a bass-heavy beat that had Kie and Cleo moving with even more energy. You caught J's eye for a moment, your lips curving into a small smile, and his breath hitched before he quickly looked away, pretending to focus on his drink.

“I can’t watch this shit anymore, bro” Pope muttered under his breath, laughing to himself.

The game of Kings was in full swing after awhile, the table cluttered with empty bottles, cans, and half-finished cups that had somehow become part of the challenge. The air was thick with laughter, loud music, and the intoxicating scent of booze, and the more the night wore on, the more everyone seemed to loosen up.

JJ was sprawled across the floor, his legs tangled in a chair, and his voice already slurring as he cheered for whatever ridiculous thing someone had just done. “Yo, Pope! Keep that up and I’m gonna have to start calling you lazy!’”

Pope, already red-faced from a few too many rounds, laughed back, holding his drink up like a trophy. “Don’t start, Maybank! I’ll show you lazy!”

Meanwhile, Cleo was trying to maintain some semblance of composure, but it was clear the alcohol was doing its work. She’d attempted to take a shot when it was her turn, but it ended up splashing more on her than in her mouth. “Fuck, man! That’s a waste of good Vodka!” she laughed, wiping her chin.

You were sitting cross-legged on the floor, your laughter spilling freely with each passing round. JJ’s usual poker face had been replaced by a slightly tipsy, carefree version of himself, and he was absolutely loving it. You could feel the energy between you both shift as the alcohol mixed with the playful tension that had been simmering for days.

“Alright, alright,” Kie said, looking at the cards in her hand with a drunken frown. “I got a two. JJ, you know what that means, right?”

JJ raised his eyebrows, leaning forward with a wicked grin. “Oh, I know exactly what it means. You’re gonna do somethin’ crazy, aren’t you?”

You chuckled as Kie downed her drink in one go. “Your turn now!” she exclaimed, handing the bottle off to JJ with a sly grin.

As the night dragged on, the drinking games only seemed to get more ridiculous. There were shots, dares, and more rounds of Kings than anyone could count. But somehow, in the chaos, you and JJ became the focal point of the night. The two of you kept locking eyes across the room, the teasing glances and flirty remarks becoming a more regular occurrence.

JJ knocked back another drink, his eyes narrowing playfully as he leaned into you. “I think you’re tryin’ to make me jealous with how good you look tonight. Keep it up and you might get yourself in trouble,” he muttered, leaning so close his breath brushed your ear.

You felt the heat of his words, too drunk to care that the whole group could probably hear him. You looked at him with a drunken, teasing smile. “Oh yeah? You think I’m trying to make you jealous? Maybe I just wanna see you do something about it,” you shot back, not missing a beat.

JJ’s eyes widened, but then he laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, now, you’re not gonna get me to fall for that one. I know better.” He took another swig of his drink, leaning back with his arms crossed as if trying to play it cool—but the smile on his face betrayed him.

You scooted a little closer, the alcohol making you bold in ways you never usually were. “You sure? ‘Cause I don’t know if I’m buying it,” you purred, your voice low enough that only he could hear. The entire group was wrapped up in their own chaos, too drunk to notice anything between you and JJ.

Cleo, Kie and Pope were arguing over who could take the next shot the fastest, and John B and Sarah were wrapped up in their own world, holding hands while they giggled over something. The night had turned into one big blur, everyone losing themselves in the party.

But JJ, with his wild eyes, was only focused on you. “You better watch out, you’re gonna have me all over you, and I won’t let you live it down,” he teased, his voice low and confident—yet there was a slight slur to it.

You could feel the air between you both thicken as your proximity grew, and without thinking, you leaned in close enough to feel the warmth of his skin. “I can’t wait,” you whispered, your breath mingling with his.

JJ’s heart raced, and for a moment, he was frozen—his lips slightly parted, his breath shallow. He was too drunk to keep up the bravado. “You’re gonna be the death of me, Kook princess” he muttered with a half-laugh, before taking a long drink from his cup to steady himself.

A round of cheers erupted from the group as they realized it was JJ’s turn again. The game had gone on to become truth or dare, but mostly it was just dares flying around like crazy. Some kissed, some took shots they definitely had to pray on before taking, But he barely heard any of it. His focus was still locked on you.

“Okay, we’ve got a dare for you, JJ,” Pope suddenly interrupted, clearly not noticing the tension brewing between the two of you.

JJ snapped his head toward Pope, visibly trying to pull himself back together. “What’s the dare?”

Pope grinned mischievously. “Alright, I dare you to kiss her. Just a quick one, you know, to keep the night going.”

The entire group erupted in hoots of laughter and cheers, but you and JJ were suddenly hyper-aware of the quiet that had fallen around you two. The dare hung in the air like an undeniable challenge, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and JJ was staring at you, not backing away but not advancing either. The alcohol had loosened your usual restraint, and now it felt like the entire room was holding its breath.

“You sure about that, Pope?” JJ finally said, his voice low, his usual cocky grin replaced with something a little more vulnerable. He was trying to keep it casual, but his voice wavered slightly.

Pope’s grin only widened. “Come on, man. If you don’t do it, kie will.”

Kie and you laughed—The challenge was clear, and suddenly, everything felt too real. The room, the music, the group—everything seemed to disappear as JJ’s face was inches from yours.

You tried to keep your expression neutral, but the flush creeping up your neck and the way your stomach twisted gave you away. JJ turned his gaze back to you, his usual confidence faltering for a split second.

“Alright, alright,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck as he stepped closer to you. His grin returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Rules are rules, I guess.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as he stopped just in front of you, the world fading out once more. His hands hovered awkwardly at his sides for a moment before one settled lightly on your arm, grounding you.

“You okay with this?” he asked softly, his tone so uncharacteristically gentle that it made your chest tighten.

You nodded, trying to act like your heart wasn’t about to leap out of your chest. “It’s just a dare, right?”

JJ’s lips twitched into a lopsided smirk, though there was a nervous edge to it. "Just a dare," he echoed, though the way his voice dipped made it sound like he was convincing himself.

As he leaned in, the room seemed to hold its collective breath. You could feel the heat of his body as he got closer, his other hand reaching up to gently cup the side of your face. The touch was warm, grounding, but it only made your heart pound harder.

When his lips finally met yours, the teasing atmosphere in the room evaporated entirely. It was meant to be quick, simple, but the moment JJ kissed you, the world narrowed to just the two of you. His lips were soft but firm, his hand tightening slightly on your arm as he lingered, longer than necessary for a dare.

A muffled cheer erupted from somewhere in the background, but neither of you pulled away. The kiss deepened, slow and magnetic, like neither of you could stop. JJ’s free hand brushed against your waist, almost instinctively, and the heat of it made your stomach twist in ways you couldn’t explain.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. The room burst into shouts and laughter, but you and JJ stayed frozen for a beat too long, staring at each other. His lips were slightly parted, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes searched yours, as though trying to decipher what just happened.

Your chest tightened, your lips still tingling as you tried to collect yourself. JJ took a shaky breath and stepped back, his hand dropping from your arm and face. He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze for a moment before glancing back at you.

“Happy now, Pope?” JJ’s voice cracked slightly, and he covered it by grabbing his beer and chugging half of it.

“Oh, we’re thrilled,” Pope replied smugly, raising his drink.

“You two sure took your time with that one,” Kie teased, raising an eyebrow at you both.

“Yeah, definitely longer than the ‘quick one’ we had in mind,” Cleo added with a knowing smirk.

Your face burned, and you quickly grabbed your drink, hoping no one could see how shaken you felt. Across the table, JJ was no better, his ears red as he avoided looking directly at anyone. But every so often, your eyes met, and the tension between you sparked all over again.

“You gonna survive over there, JJ?” John B teased, tossing a bottle cap in his direction.

JJ rolled his eyes, though his smirk had returned, even if it was faint. “I—“

“Okay! Next dare,” Kie announced, clearly trying to keep the game going and cutting JJ off—to which he was very thankful for.

The game carried on, the laughter and teasing filling the space again. But for the rest of the night, you couldn’t stop glancing at JJ—and every time you did, you caught him looking back, his expression unreadable but heavy with something unspoken.

The night was far from over.

——-

The group had shifted to the couch area, most of them completely drunk and sprawled out, as the music continued to pulse in the background. The playful tension from the dare hung between you and JJ like an electric current, the air thick with unspoken words.

You and JJ hadn’t spoken much since the kiss, both of you trying to act as if it hadn’t just happened. But the way your eyes met every now and then, and the way your body seemed to gravitate towards him without thought, was enough to make everyone else notice.

John B, already tipsy and leaning into Sarah, was the first to break the silence. “Okay, okay, we need to start another round of something. Before I close my eyes and never open them” He looked between everyone, his eyes narrowing as he spotted the two of you. “But someone better keep an eye on JJ and the birthday girl. Looks like they’re gonna start their own game soon.” He winked, half-joking, but it didn’t land as lightly as he probably intended.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the blush creeping up your neck. “Shut up, John B,” you mumbled, shifting uncomfortably in your seat, pretending to find something interesting about your drink.

JJ, sitting across from you, caught the blush and grinned. “What, you embarrassed now?” His voice was light, teasing, but the heat in his gaze betrayed his casual tone. He knew exactly what was going on.

“No,” you shot back quickly, rolling your eyes dramatically. “Not embarrassed. Just… I don’t know, maybe your just a bad kisser.” You swirled the drink in your hand, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Yeah, maybe… but you know,” JJ started, leaning in closer, his voice low, “Your body says otherwise” He smirked, and there was something in his voice that was far too confident, even for him. “If you want another try, all you have to do is ask”

The words hit like a shot of tequila, and you felt the heat rising in your chest once again. For a moment, you just stared at him, your pulse quickening. “What makes you think I want that?” You were drunk enough to be bold, but the teasing in your tone didn’t match the rapid beat of your heart.

JJ’s smirk softened, his eyes flickering to your lips for the briefest moment before looking away. He leaned back in his seat, glancing at the group, and then back at you, his voice suddenly quieter. “I’m just saying, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, shrugging, like he was trying to act nonchalant. But there was something in the way he said it, the vulnerability in his voice, that made your breath hitch.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way he looked at you, but you were suddenly drawn to him in a way you hadn’t expected. The playful flirting had turned into something more, something deeper.

Before you could respond, Cleo stood up, raising her cup dramatically. “Okay, okay! Time for some more chaos! Who’s up for another round of… whatever we’re doing?”

The interruption snapped both of you back into the present, but the heat between you didn’t fade. The night was still young, and now, everyone was shouting for another round of drinks.

“Fine,” you muttered under your breath, standing up and turning to grab another drink. “But I’m keeping my distance from Maybank for the next round.”

JJ raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I bet you are,” he teased, but his smile faded as he noticed the slight shift in your attitude. The flirting had stopped, and there was something else there now, something neither of you were ready to deal with.

But before either of you could speak again, Pope and Cleo dragged everyone back into the living room, launching into another round of Kings, laughing and joking as they set everything up.

As the night wore on, the group’s energy shifted. People began winding down, some already half-asleep on the couches, others still caught up in the haze of drunken laughter. You and JJ remained in the same space but kept your distance, the unspoken tension between you both thickening with every passing second.

Eventually, the music died down, and the room grew quieter. John B and Sarah were wrapped up in each other, and Cleo had snuck off to sit by herself, letting the alcohol take its toll. Pope was sitting next to you, chatting about something, but your mind kept wandering back to JJ. You hadn’t realized how badly you’d wanted him until this moment—until that kiss and the lingering feeling it left in its wake.

“Hey,” Pope’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You good?”

You turned your head to look at him, trying to hide the conflicted look on your face. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… a little too drunk,” you laughed, but there was an edge to your voice that betrayed you.

Pope raised an eyebrow. “If you say so. But just know, JJ’s been acting weird since the kiss. He’s too drunk to admit it—and I’m too drunk to go in depth about it, but he cares about you.”

You blinked, surprised by his honesty. “What are you talking about?” you said quickly, trying to sound casual, but your heart was racing.

Pope shrugged, his eyes softening. “I know JJ. He’s not good at talking about his feelings. Especially when it comes to you.”

Before you could respond, you caught JJ glancing at you from across the room. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed him. It was as if he was trying to keep his distance, but the pull between you both was undeniable.

He quickly turned his attention back to his drink, avoiding eye contact. You could feel the weight of his gaze even from across the room, and for a moment, you wanted nothing more than to walk up to him and pull him close. But you also knew that whatever was happening between you two—this unspoken tension, this flirtation—wasn’t something you were ready to figure out just yet.

The group around you began to fade into the background as you and JJ shared a moment of quiet understanding from across the room. No words were exchanged, but the silence spoke volumes. And just like that, you knew whatever was to come—it wasn’t going to feel good in the morning.

——

As the night stretched on, the weight of the alcohol settled in, and the chaotic energy of the group began to wane. The music faded out, and the laughter that had filled the room softened into sleepy chuckles and half-hearted conversations. The sounds of glasses clinking together became less frequent, replaced by tired yawns and people stretching, making their way to the camp fire outside and blankets that had been carelessly tossed around the circle.

You were sitting closer to the fire, taking in the warmth again your skin, your legs tucked under you as you quietly observed the others. John B and Sarah were curled up together, already half-asleep, with his arm slung around her shoulders. Pope and Cleo, though still conscious, were drifting into a peaceful silence, their eyes barely open as they snuggled into the cushions. Kie had already went inside a few minutes prior, complaining about how she had to be up early tomorrow morning. The only ones still wide-eyed were you and JJ, and despite the heaviness of the night, neither of you seemed ready to let it end just yet.

JJ, sitting across from you, had his elbow resting on his knee, his eyes trained on the fire in front of him. He seemed distant, but his occasional glances toward you didn’t go unnoticed. You caught his eyes again, and this time, instead of looking away, he let them linger.

You let out a quiet breath, unsure how to proceed. “We should probably help clean up,” you murmured, breaking the silence, your words a little slurred from the alcohol.

JJ chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair with a slight tilt of his head. “Eh, we’ll get to it tomorrow. It’s too late for that now. Let them sleep it off. We’ve earned a break.” His voice had a playful tone, but there was something in it, a flicker of something deeper, that caught your attention.

“Yeah, I guess,” you said quietly, nodding, though your eyes were still locked with his.

A few more moments of silence passed, the fire crackling softly, the only sound besides the occasional rustling of blankets as everyone else settled in for the night.

Suddenly, Cleo stood up, stretching and yawning loudly. “Alright, guys,” she said with a teasing grin. “I think it’s time for me to pass out. You know where to find the blankets.” She glanced at you and JJ. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, alright?”

“Trust me, Cleo, we’re just gonna… just chill out,” JJ said, flashing her a grin.

“You two are trouble, you don’t fool me” Cleo called over her shoulder, not looking back as she walked toward the makeshift sleeping area. Pope was already settling beside her, clearly exhausted from the night’s events.

With a small wave, Sarah and John B followed suit. “Goodnight, guys,” Sarah called, already half-asleep as she leaned into John B’s side, and they made their way to the back rooms of the house.

A quiet hush fell over the fire, and the last of the group had all but drifted into the house, leaving you and JJ alone, just the two of you still sitting in the dim glow of the firelight.

JJ was sitting on the edge of a chair, his elbows resting on his knees as he twirled an empty beer bottle in his hands. His hair was messy, falling into his eyes, and there was something about the way he looked at you now—unguarded, raw, like all the walls he’d built around himself had crumbled under the weight of the night.

You sat only a few feet away, mind swaying from the alcohol coursing through your veins, watching him with a mix of amusement and apprehension. He hadn’t said much since the others left, and for once, you didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable; it was charged.

“You know,” you finally broke the quiet, your voice softer than usual, “you have a really bad poker face”

JJ glanced up at you, his brows lifting in amusement. “Yeah?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “And yours is any better, kook princess?”

You smirked at the nickname, taking a step closer. “You act like you don’t care about anything, but you do. A lot. You care about them”—you motioned toward the house—“you care about this place, and, whether you like it or not, you care about me.”

JJ’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, and you saw his jaw tighten as he glanced away, back at the bottle in his hands. “You’ve had too much to drink,” he muttered, his voice low.

“Maybe,” you admitted, taking another step closer. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Nope,” you said with a small smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not when it comes to you.”

That made him look up, his blue eyes locking onto yours in a way that made your breath hitch. The firelight danced in his gaze, but it wasn’t the flames you were focused on—it was the way he was looking at you, like he was trying to decide whether to keep pushing you away or finally let you in.

He stood, starting to diminish the fire in the pit, and for a moment you wondered if you should tell him you didn’t want to go back in the house, the drunken words hanging off your tongue in the moment. JJ on the other hand, had already been walking up to you, dumping his drink with one hand and holding the other one out to you.

“Want some company tonight?” His words make your stomach twist. Of course you did—hell, you’ve been staring at him all night. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or maybe just your overthinking, but the way he looked at you… it made you think so many things. Things you shouldn’t think about with your best friend.

You take your lip between your teeth, trying to hide the blush from your cheeks as you take his soft hand, nodding when you look up at him. You followed him into the shop, stopping to lean against the counter when he let go to put away some of the drinks back in the tiny fridge you had inside. You watched him, so many thoughts running through your head. You knew you wanted JJ… but for some reason—tonight was the night you were finally sick of waiting.

You watch as his muscle flex when he pushes the fridge door shut, making sure its broken latch actually stays. His messy hair is longer than usual, in need of a haircut but it clearly didn’t bother you in this light. Your mind ran wild with thoughts of your nails running across his arms, fingers intertwining with his blond locks. Fucking hell, why did you have to drink so much?

“You alright over there? Don’t tell me your day dreaming about me” his comment tunes you back in, your eyes averting to his and you notice how close he is to you now. Your eyelids were heavy, but your eyes said everything they needed to. You looked at him with passion, a clear and desperate need for him to just grab you and kiss you.

JJ’s smirk faltered slightly when he caught the way you were looking at him. His playful confidence wavered, and for a moment, it seemed like neither of you knew who would make the first move. The tension crackled like the remnants of the fire outside-intense and impossible to ignore.

"What?" he asked, his voice lower now, a nervous edge creeping in.

You shook your head, swallowing hard as you straightened against the counter. "You're just... annoying," you said, trying to say literally anything and sound casual, but your voice betrayed you, soft and breathless.

"Annoying?" he repeated, leaning a hand against the counter beside you, his eyes narrowing. "Funny, 'cause you're the one staring like I'm a damn trophy."

"I wasn't staring," you muttered, cheeks burning.

JJ tilted his head, his lips twitching into a lopsided grin. "Oh, you weren't? Could've fooled me."

You opened your mouth to reply, but he was already moving closer, his chest brushing against yours as his hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was so light, so deliberate, that it sent a shiver through you.

"Careful," he murmured, his eyes dipping to your lips. "You're starting to look at me like you want something."

Your breath hitched as his words sank in, the weight of them making your head spin even more than the alcohol already had.

He was so close now, his scent-salt, weed, and a faint trace of cologne-making your heart race.

"And if I do?" you whispered, barely recognizing your own voice.

JJ's jaw tightened, his playful demeanor slipping as his fingers hovered just above your cheek. His gaze flicked between your eyes and lips, and you could see the internal battle raging inside him.

"Don't do that," he muttered, shaking his head slightly.

"Do what?"

"Say things like that," he said, his voice rough. "You're gonna make me do something stupid."

You leaned into his touch, your lips parting as your hand moved to rest against his chest. His heart was pounding under your palm, and it gave you the courage to press on.

"Maybe I want you to," you said softly, your voice daring.

JJ let out a low, humorless laugh, his forehead coming to rest against yours. "You have no idea what you're asking for," he said, his voice strained.

"Then show me," you challenged, your lips brushing against his just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath.

“Fuck it” He huffs, and it was safe to say you couldn’t imagine the extent of what would happen next.

His restraint shattered in an instant. One of his hands gripped the counter beside you, the other cupping your face as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was fiery and desperate, his need for you pouring out in every movement. You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pressed you back against the counter.

It was messy, intoxicating, and everything you'd imagined it would be. His hands roamed your sides, pulling you closer as if he couldn't stand even a breath of space between you.

"Fuck," he whispered against your lips, his voice thick with desire. "You're gonna kill me."

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your forehead still resting against his.

"Maybe that's the point," you said, a small, teasing smile curving your lips.

JJ let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as he stared at you like you'd just turned his entire world upside down. His fingers brushed along your jawline, his gaze softening in a way that made your chest tighten.

"We’re so screwed," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, more deliberate.

"Shut up and kiss me, Maybank," you teased, your smile breaking against his lips.

He didn't answer, but the way his hands tightened around you told you everything you needed to know. The tension that had been building between you all night finally melted away, leaving just the two of you and the undeniable pull that neither of you could fight any longer.

JJ’s kisses turned deeper, hungrier, as his hands tightened their hold on your hips, fingers digging into your skin like he was afraid you might slip away. He had you backed up against the counter, the edge pressing into your lower back, but the slight discomfort didn't matter. All you could feel was him—his warmth, his need, and the way he was finally letting himself give in.

Your fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, brushing against his skin, and the sound he made against your lips sent a shiver down your spine. JJ broke the kiss, his lips moving to your jaw, then to your neck, leaving a trail of heat that made your head spin.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmured against your skin, his voice low and rough.

Your breath hitched, your hands roaming up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath your fingertips. "Jayj…" you whisper, your voice soft but slightly shaking from the new sensation.

JJ pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his pupils blown wide and his lips red and slightly swollen. "You're dangerous," he said, shaking his head with a crooked grin.

"Me? You're the one who can't keep his hands to himself," you teased, tugging at his shirt.

"Yeah, well, you make it impossible," he shot back, his grin softening into something more genuine.

He pulled you into another kiss, slower this time, but no less intense. His hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing the bare skin just beneath your shirt, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You arched into him, your hands finding their way into his messy blond hair, pulling him even closer.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, JJ lifted you onto the counter, his hands gripping your thighs as he stepped between them.

The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered, made your chest tighten.

"JJ," you whispered, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

His name coming from your lips had sounded like a prayer only he was meant to hear. It shifted every gear in his body when he heard it. That breathless, innocent tone of yours. "Fuck. Keep saying it” he mumbled against your skin, his voice thick with want, his forehead resting against yours.

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I want you, Jayj. You have me" you confessed, your voice barely audible.

JJ let out a soft laugh, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "That’s my girl" he said, his voice carrying an honesty that made your breath catch.

He kissed you again, and this time, it felt different. It wasn't just about the tension or the alcohol—it was about everything that had been building between you for so long.

"Tell me to stop," JJ murmured against your lips, his hands trembling slightly as they trailed up your thighs. "Tell me to stop before we change our friendship forever."

You shook your head, your hands cupping his face. "Don't stop," you whispered, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “Please… don’t stop, J” With a final laugh, JJ pulled you closer, smashing his lips against your own once again. At this point, you wasted no time in letting your hands explore each others body. Your fingers felt his perfectly chiseled chest under his shirt as he left sensual kisses and bites against your neck, quiet breaths leaving your lips as you let your head fall back in pleasure.

He was the first to slip off your shirt, tossing it to a random side of the shop as he admired the sight in front of him. You were perfectly tanned, the curves of your breast inside your bra made it even harder for him to focus. You whine as he kisses your collar, growing more and more desperate by the minute.

He smirks against your skin, his hand slipping underneath your bra until it came undone. “Impatient girl—I’ll take care of you” you let it fall, not caring even a little bit that you were almost fully exposed to him now. The shop had thin walls and makeshift windows—someone could see you if they wanted to, but you didn’t care as long as JJ’s arms were wrapped around you.

You make brief eye contact with him before he moves down your chest, his large hands kneading your breasts while his lips move over them. You were on cloud 9—so drunk and so incredibly horny for the boy in front of you that you didn’t care if anyone heard.

“You are so goddamn beautiful, Y/N” he mumbles against your skin, a moan slipping from your lips as his fingers dug firmer into your skin. It was so rough, such hungry movements against each other. It was perfect.

“Fuck, Jayj…” your fingers comb through his hair, the nails on your other hand digging into the wood countertop under you. As much as JJ was enjoying watching you fall apart, he knew he couldn’t do anything with you on the counter like this. At least not what he wanted.

You felt his hands tug you toward him, so harsh he’d moved you swiftly. Your legs wrapped around his waist like an order, and it was—an unspoken one to you. Your arms lay around his neck as he carries you upstairs, lips on your the entire time and your surprised he didn’t fall.

He laid you back against the couch, the two of you barely fitting as he followed you down. The heat from his body radiated your own—making the moment all too real. “J… not fair” you hum, tugging at his shirt that was still fully on while you lay fully exposed from the waist up. He chuckles, leaning back and pulling it over his head, throwing it to the other side of the room.

"We’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N" He tells you with a sharp tone, moving to place his hands against the couch fabric, closing you between him.

You smirk, looking him up and down once before looking back to his face. "Isn’t that what we’re all about?"

The two of you laid there, staring at the other for what felt like forever until He finally gave in, cursing himself under his breath before he grabbed your neck to pull you into a rough kiss. Your body is flush against his as he completely explores your body with his hands. You could feel his growing erection, you could feel his hunger for your body like he felt yours.

"JJ" You mumble in a breathless moan. His lips remove from yours and move to your jaw, hungrily peppering wet kisses down it, all the way to your neck.

"You are so fucking hot, Jesus" He groans against your ear, placing soft kisses on your sensitive skin.

Your moans are what encourage him the most.

Hearing your sweet whimpers in his ear as he sucked on your neck felt like a dream. Believe god, he'd had that dream many, many times before.

"I've waited so long for this" Your breathless under him, gripping his hair between your small fingers. You could feel his cock pressing against you, begging for your tongue. It was big-he was so fucking big. It should've scared you but you were more intrigued, grinding your hips against his to gain some friction with the little time you had before he stopped your bratty movements.

"I know you have" He teases and you only roll your eyes, grabbing his hand that held you steady against him. You could feel his lips brushing your skin, he wanted to mark you, and you wanted him to. You wanted JJ Maybank to let everyone know you were his.

"Having an attitude isn’t that attractive on you, Maybank. I know you’ve wanted me like this ever since I joined the pogues" You hum, holding his head and slightly pushing it down so his lips reattached to your neck. "But that’s okay, I'll find someone else—someone who hasn't played with me for years"

A grunt escapes his mouth as if he had been fighting with the feeling, shaking his head between your neck before meeting your eyes again; your bratty, untamed eyes.

"You've waited so long I thought? So long your body even reacts when I look at you" He's so obviously joking and you love every second of it. Every word of degradation is like music to your ears, like a forbidden kink you didn't know you had. Only for JJ. "This is what you wanted, huh? All those looks you'd give me after l'd make out with random kooks—you were so jealous, Sweetheart"

Your ears are perking at his every word but your eyes were filled with annoyance.

JJ knew now so why would you hide it? Hide your jealousy? "Fuck, Y/N. I’m so drunk but I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you if I was sober either"

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling you closer to his body then before with a smirk, shrugging your shoulders.

"That doesn't matter. You have me now" His eyes. Oh god, his eyes were so hungry. At first you didn't know what to think but it only took you a few seconds to realize once his large arms were wrapped around your thighs, pulling your body close to him.

His chin sat against your stomach, staring up at you like he had been waiting for you to say something.

But you didn't know what he was planning until his thumb was ghosting around your clothed clit, that same smirk pulling at his lips as he watched you.

He slips your shorts off with ease, along with your black lace underwear, tossing them both to the side.

"Fuck" You breath heavily, leaning your head back against the sheets, not even realizing the boy under you was now fully under you. "S-shit!" Your hand fell clasp over your mouth to silence your moan, eyes falling back on him under you. Except now, his face was pressed into your dripping wet cunt, and his fingers teased what his mouth didn't. "Fucking hell, J" You mumble under your unsteady breath, trying your hardest not to moan because he had just started and you didn't want to seem weak.

But holy shit, this boy knew how to use his tongue.

Your hand fell atop his head in hopes to gain some sort of stability but that quickly failed, given how badly he was attacking your clit. His mouth was warm against you and you already knew you'd come soon. It was like he knew your body inside and out.

"I know your not holding back on me, are you?" His words vibrate against your cunt making you jolt, thankful his arms held you down so you wouldn't squirm. JJ was in pure bliss under you, relishing in your sweet taste that so effortlessly painted his tongue. You were wet, your cunt was begging for more even if you were a crying mess above him, like it finally found what it had been longing for.

"Jayj…" He chuckles at your attempt at retaliation but still manages to one up you, slipping two of his fingers inside you. “J-JJ, let me-"

"No" He only uttered one word but it was enough to make you listen like a trained dog, allowing your legs to tremble against his face. You could've taken it had you been prepared, but it had been far too long before any guy had done this to you.

"You taste so fucking good, Y/N" His fingers curl against your spongy walls, pushing his tongue against your clit quickly as your moan's increased.

It was so clear you were already on edge, about to let go without it being over five minutes. You find your pride slipping from you in a matter of seconds, begging the man to let you come as your fingers tug his hair. You couldn't hold on, your legs were far too weak.

"Please, please-Jayj, please" His ears are perking as you moan his name, begging for him, moaning for him. Normally, he'd take his time with you but now?

He needed to release all that tension between the two of you from years ago, he knew he couldn't last much longer. He needed to be inside of you, and for that exact reason is why he only sped up under you.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your mind tried to come up with some sort of reason as to how you got yourself here, How you got your best friend between your legs, and definitely how you were about to fully submit yourself to this boy while your true feelings for each other were unknown. He was thinking the same thing; how did he get so lucky to have you above him?

"That’s it, just let go for me, Pretty girl" In only seconds, you're coming undone above him, legs almost falling weak as they shook from your release, sending shivers throughout your entire body. JJ’s still torturing your body, pumping his fingers into you at a faster pace. It was clear, he was trying to kill you.

"J!" You cry, gripping his hair with a begging tone. You couldn't take it much longer. You had to push him away. Finally, after what felt like forever, he removed his tongue from you, letting his fingers slip from inside you. His strong arms are the only thing that held your legs still, and you could see your release painted on his chin once he looked up at you.

"Holy shit" You curse under your breath, chest heaving as he stood to his feet. You look at the boy above you, noticing once again how he towers over you. “Dick” you push him before laying back against the couch in a huff, your body still shuddering and your heart coming down from the high he had given you.

He bites his lip, admiring your perfect body that had been on almost full display for him. He leans down when you notice how hard he is, lifting your chin with the hand he hadn't used on you.

You watch through your eyelashes as he sucks his finger clean from your release, biting his lip with a silent chuckle at how lovingly you looked at him. You grab his hand, pulling it closer to you until his other finger was pressed against your lips-to which you copied his action from before, staring into his eyes as you did.

"That’s my girl" He knew you liked that. It was so obvious—the way your legs clench together at his praise. He pulls his hand away and moves it to your neck, pressing a soft but sloppy kiss to your lips. You could taste yourself from him, and God... it was so fucking hot.

Your hand feels his body effortlessly until you reach his aching print, a small smile pulling at your lips against him.

"Let me" You mumble breathlessly, placing your hand over his cock. You could feel how desperate he had been for you, how badly he wanted you in that moment. His hand wraps around your throat firmly, pulling your lips to crash back into his own. He was so rough and impatient—you loved it.

"No. I need you. Right now" His voice is deep and makes your skin shiver, the way his hands touch you so delicately but with control. It was slightly dark around you, only lit by the string lights strung high up around the outsides of the shop.

"You have me, Jayj. You’ve… you’ve always had me" Your words make his and your own stomach twist into knots, he almost felt bad. He waited so long to make the move, afraid he misread the signs, but he'd never admit that. You allow your hands to travel down his bare abs, feeling every chisel between the pads of your fingertips. When you reach his belt, you're quick to help him tug his pants off, watching him with the most admiration.

"I won’t be able to look at you with anyone else after we do this" He looks at you once more, both of your hands laid on the waistband of his underwear. You lay your free hand on the side of his neck and use the other to touch him lower. Right where he wanted you the entire time.

His breath shutters at your bare touch, something he's wanted for so long was finally right in front of him. You were all he wanted and he prayed you ensue him just as much.

"You mean… everything to me, Jayj" You tell him truthfully, watching his eyes soften just before you pulled his face down to kiss his lips. Except this kiss had much more

meaning-the kiss after you'd admit your feelings for one another.

He leans you down, closing you between his large body and his bed, your hand is still pressed into his print, but he's already slipping his underwear off by the time you can notice.

Fuck. He was going to ruin you.

Your hands cup his face when his tip presses against your entrance, slick coating it by the second. You wanted him for so long, you didn't care if it hurt at first.

You just wanted him.

From the moment he pushed inside of you, the only feeling you could endure was love. He was slow, gentle to help you get used to his size. The boy peppers kisses to your neck as he pushed further, comforting your slightly pained moans that slip from your lips without warning.

"Mmm" You let out a soft moan once his tip is past your entrance, the hard part was now over. You look at him with your lips parted, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. He pushes your hair out of your face before kissing you, and you weren't prepared for when he pushed into you fully with one snap of his hips.

Your toes curled and your nails dug into his skin desperately, the feeling was almost indescribable. You just felt... full.

"Oh my god" You moan against his lips, throwing your head back as he strokes you slowly, massaging your thigh. You looked so perfect like this, so pretty in this light. Your body was almost bare for him, and your body was welcoming him with open arms—he couldn't get enough of you. "J... JJ" one of your hands release his shoulder to grip the sheet underneath you, teeth catching your bottom lip between them.

"Fuck, Y/N. I can’t…" He bites his lip, moving his head down to your neck, placing sloppy kisses against it. His hips find a steady pace at first and gradually work their way up, starting deep, then fast to your skin. "God, you feel so good" one of his hands travels up your body until it reaches the curve of your breasts, his large hands teasing your nipples.

"Such a tease, J…" Your breathless words are too late when he's already looking over your now fully bare body, completely discarding your words. Jesus, you were so perfect.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N" He presses a kiss to your lips before moving down your body, trailing his wet tongue down until he reached your nipple. He couldn't take his eyes off you, the curves of your body... you were practically made for him. A shuddered moan escapes your lips when he swirls his tongue around your hardened nipple, kneading the other with his free hand.

"Mmm!" Between the stokes of his hips and the sensations he brought to your skin, you couldn't hold much in. You were sure you were being too loud but the two of you didn't care. It was just you and him, nobody else.

His strong arms capture your thighs, pulling one of your legs to rest against his shoulder. "JJ! I can't... oh my gosh" Your little voice is projecting off the walls of the empty room but you don't care, only worried about the boy above you. Your head was still slightly spinning from the drinks you endured earlier that night and it only mixed with your horny mess of a body, begging Colby for more. "It's so good... fuck! You're so fucking good!"

"Look at you. Such a fucking mess under me. You needed me just as much as I needed you" He grabs the back of your head, pulling you up slightly so you were at an angle you couldn't look away from him.

His big eyes were burning holes into your own, hips rutting into you like he had something to prove.

Which he did.

"Gonna come..! J, I'm gonna come!" You’re a whining mess under him and he loves every second of it, pushing his hips into you faster then before.

Your small body was like a toy in his hand and you were at his every command, doing everything he said.

"Come for me. Want you to scream my name so all of those no good kooks hear how much of a slut you are for a ‘worthless’ pogue like me” You knew it was a bad idea but who were you to decline that request? You were already screaming as it was. "My dirty girl, Your so fucking hot like this”

"I'm coming! I'm-oh my god I-" Your voice is cut off by your loud moan, leg shuttering against his shoulder as you felt your release threatening to push over. His tip was kissing your cervix repeatedly, and you knew you couldn't last much longer. "J..!" You cry out, pressing your hand to his chest as if that was going to do anything. Your orgasm finally tipped, and you felt it hit you like a truck.

"That's it, Baby. That’s my fuckin’ girl" His thumb rubs circles against your clit as he ruts into your harder, watching your liquid spurt from between the two of you. "My god, Y/N. So fucking good for me"

"Jayj... please—Jesus—“

"Your body is calling mine for more. You want more" You grip his large arms until your knuckles turn white, scratching along his tanned skin. You curse at him, not wanting to hear his teasing any longer. "Fuck me? I'm only giving you what you want" You look at him with an angry look for a second before completely switching, a smirk pulling at your lips.

He pulls out of you all at once making you whine, not able to protest before he's already flipping you over onto your stomach and pushing your ass in the air.

You giggle, stretching your arms in front of you as you arch your back against him, begging him to forgive you. "I was only joking, Pretty boy" You hum, looking back at his face.

He doesn't say anything and grabs your hips roughly, pulling you back onto his length that so easily slipped inside of you. Your eyes roll back almost instantly as he bottoms you out, pushing his cock as deep as he could reach inside you. "This is what you wanted? Never knew you were such a brat" He growls against your ear, slamming himself into your harder than he had been before. You couldn't even think straight, you were already so fucked out you didn't even remember what it felt like to not be fucked.

"fuck! Right there! Please, J—Mmph!" Your begging voice is music to his ears, your hands reaching back to hold onto his warm body as he pushed himself against you. "You're so deep... so fucking good to me, J" He hums, leaning against your body so you were entirely pressing against him, his tongue running along your skin. Once again, you could feel his sloppy kisses against your shoulder and your neck.

"Nobody can have you like I can, Y/N. Your mine. You're all fucking mine, you hear me?" You cry out a yes, the sound of your skin slapping against each others being the only thing that could be heard. "That's it, just like that, my love" He praises against your ear, holding your hips to press into his.

"JJ, I'm gonna come ag... oh my god" You whine into your hand, feeling the pressure building up fast inside you. He's a grunting mess above you so you knew he was close as well, he was only holding out for you.

"Come with me. Please, don't hold out on me"

The snap of his hips slow down the closer he gets, and now your body is flush against his own, rocking back and forth to his pace with his face buried in your neck.

"That’s it—that’s my pretty girl. My fuckin’ girl, come for me and only me, yeah?" You moan at his words, throwing your head back against his chest as his fingers circle your sensitive clit. you couldn't hold it anymore, and neither could he. "I'm right behind you"

Drunk sex always felt way too good but usually it was faster and much sweatier, this felt far too different.

Even if your hips moved fast against his, it still felt like everything had been in slow motion. The way his hands held your delicate body in his embrace as he thrust his hips up to meet your own, how his lips parted in anticipation to kiss yours, JJ was so hungry for you—his body, was hungry for you.

"J... JJ!" His name rolls off your tongue in a beautiful moan. You can feel his slight hesitance but the eyes you give him are enough to tell him exactly what you wanted. You were on birth control—and you wanted all of him, just as you said.

"Fuck...!" He curses under his breath, your moans filling his ears as you clenched down onto him. He continues to coach you to it, and with one last snap of his hips and circle to your clit, you felt your body release it's everything onto his. He shushes your loud scream while silencing his own grunts, fingers digging into your hips to pull you close, painting your walls with his white, hot release.

For awhile, All that was heard was your heavy breathing and the sounds of the tv in the other room, and you soon found yourself collapsed on top of him against the couch. Your chests were heaving horribly, and the sweat that dripped from your foreheads were now everywhere. You look over at the boy next to you, only to find he had already been looking at you, both of you breathing heavy-lips parted.

It only took a second for one of you to start laughing, and JJ leaned over to kiss you again, this time staying there for the longest he could.

You hum as he pulls away just a tiny bit, still close to your face. Your eyes are shut, relishing in the feeling you had. How do you go on from this? Clearly you two loved each other, but you prayed it wouldn't be weird...

"Come here" He lays his arm out, pulling your body closer to his so you could lay your head against his chest. The room was hot, despite that fact it was basically without windows, and smelled of pure sex but neither of you complained. You were just happy.

"Jayj..." You mumble after awhile in silence, tracing lines on his chest for the 2nd time. He hums in response, the tips of his fingers brushing through your soft hair. You almost feel bad, as it you're about to ruin the amazing night you had —but you had to say it. "Where do we go from here..?"

Your voice is low and nervous, so focused on the negative that you couldn't even see the obvious answer. JJ made it clear what he wanted. He couldn't go back to normal with you—not after this night.

“Don’t worry about that right now, Alright? We’re both still drunk as shit, let’s enjoy the quiet night we have and face the music tomorrow, yeah?” He pushes strands of your hair from your face, and a slight tug at your heart subsides but you know it’s okay. You knew this could never be casual to either of you.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Captain Maybank” He chuckled, leaning his head down to press a kiss to your forehead. You smile, interlocking your fingers with his own against your shoulder. You couldn’t believe it—you were actually here with him.

After all this time.

“Only the best for my girl”

I literally haven’t written in so long. Sorry if this was rushed, the ORIGINAL VERSION was super long so I had to cut it down 🥲

[lunarflux]

x: Thomas Shelby found his match in an information bookie who has eluded the grasp of the Peaky Blinders long enough to crumble their power over Birmingham. But at last, he found you. The ghost he'd been chasing was finally in front of him, but you were trickier than he expected. Dangerous, cunning - and a bit too much like himself. To buy your loyalty, he would have to sell his in equal measure. Loyalty for loyalty - blood for blood - how much were either of you willing to spill before the game changed entirely?

part 12: world on fire

word count: 2,256

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Days would pass since Tommy's near brush with death and your ascent from the dark. At first, no one asked where you were, but as the week progressed, Arthur and John were the first to talk to Tommy about it. He could tell—not that his brothers were particularly good at hiding their emotions—that they wondered if you were alright. Finn, who still held onto the little stories you shared, resisted entering the bookshop because, in time, you had nothing to say. He voiced his concern to Tommy, but it would take him another few days to find himself outside the shop, wondering if you were inside.

He reached for the knob, and it jammed. The front door was locked, but Tommy wasn’t one to be deterred by locked doors. He rapped his knuckles against the wood, the sound sharp and commanding.

After a long pause, the door creaked open just enough for you to peer out, your expression immediately hardening.

“What do you want?”

Funny. Those were the first words he spoke to you when he sat across your desk so long ago, and now here he was again. Only this time, you were the one demanding an answer.

Tommy stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, his presence filling the small space. He looked around the place that you always hid away in, and in some part of his mind—the part that also craved solitude among the chaos—understood, and he wished that he had a sanctuary like this of his own.

When he finally looked at you, you avoided his eyes.

“You haven't been back to the betting house. Or the Garrison.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back against the counter. You kept your demeanor cold, posture guarded, but he caught the flicker of something in your eyes—sadness, maybe, or frustration. Most likely with him.

“Well, now you know I'm alive,” you said. "Is that all?"

There it was—the uncomfortable silence. But now, you couldn't wait. The longer you waited, the longer he'd be standing in front of you.

Your jaw tightened. “Then I guess, you're just here to take up time.”

Tommy removed his hat and placed it on the counter, hoping to take up as much time to put together a delicate answer for you. “We have unfinished business.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting.

He took a step closer, his hands tucked into his pockets. “You said gave me my life for my tragedy.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, but, still, you said nothing.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Tommy continued, his voice low. “And I realized something.”

Your breath hitched, though you masked it well. “Enlighten me.”

He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He hated this—hated the vulnerability, the uncertainty—but he forced himself to push through.

“You’ve already walked away from me more than once,” he said finally. “And, every time, I let you because of the debt I owe you. I'd rather not make that mistake again—debt or no debt.”

Your posture stiffened, but you couldn't bring yourself to respond.

“You’ve got a choice,” he replied, his voice turning sharp. “You can keep weighing everything I do—everything you do—by value. By exchange. A debt for a debt, only giving what is equally worth the other, hiding behind that cold front of yours. Or you can look at me. And tell me, at last, what the fuck it is you really want.”

Silence hung between you, heavy and charged.

You opened your mouth to speak but faltered again, your usual sharp wit replaced by something softer, more uncertain.

Tommy stepped closer, his gaze boring into yours. “I’m not asking for answers tonight. But think about it, y/n. Because one way or another, it will come out—with or without your willingness to say it out loud.”

He turned and walked toward the door, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. As he stepped into the cool night air, Tommy allowed himself the faintest of smiles.

The chessboard had shifted.

Now, it was your move.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

The door shut behind him with a soft click, but the sound felt deafening in the silence that followed. You stood frozen, your back still against the counter, arms crossed as though holding yourself together.

You hated how much you hung onto his words until they crept under your skin. You hated that he could say so little and still unravel your carefully constructed defenses.

Your hands clenched into fists. Even as you thought through it all, doubt crept in. You had seen something in his eyes tonight—the same look of fragility—something he probably didn’t even realize he’d let slip. Vulnerability. Maybe even fear.

Your breathing caught at the base of your throat as another thought surfaced, unbidden. It was true. Every time, you were the one who walked away, and next time, he wouldn't let you. The thought alone was daunting, and you spent the next minute convincing yourself that he meant it as a threat. It wasn't though, it was a precarious decision he made on his own. He wouldn't let you walk away again to leave him alone.

The realization sent a chill down your spine. Tommy Shelby wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean. If he’d decided you were worth chasing, worth fighting for, he wouldn’t stop. And if he did stop, that meant he was wrong—you weren't worth it. Both concepts raged on in your head. You wanted to be worth it, but was all of this worth it to you?

Your grip on control slipped for just a moment, and you slammed your hand against the counter in frustration.

Needing someone—it was a terrible feeling, to the point where, long ago, you decided you'd never let yourself need someone again. The anger you felt towards yourself was sharp, but it was nothing compared to the frustration you felt towards Tommy. He was pushing you for an answer you didn't have, or perhaps, it was one he knew you would keep denying.

Wanting someone—there was no line of logic that would make it any better.

Your thoughts spiraled, but you forced yourself to take a deep breath. This wasn’t the time to fall apart. There were bigger things at play.

Why did I save him, you kept asking yourself, what possessed me to go there?

The tip about Tommy replayed in your mind. Something about it hadn’t sat right with you from the beginning, but there was no time to think it through. Why would someone risk passing on information like that? Why to you, specifically? That could have gone to anyone—any of the Blinders would have readily gone to help Tommy if he needed it. So, why did that information fall into your lap?

Kennedy—a wiry fellow with shifty eyes and a devious demeanor. He’d seemed so eager, almost too eager, to help. Back when he was Bedlam's bookie, he was much more naïve, but you offered him a way out, a way to stay out of the line of fire by giving information when Arthur sought it out. So, why would he come back—willingly come back to you?

Bingham.

The name hit you like a lightning bolt. It was suddenly so obvious, too obvious. Bingham set you up. The tip wasn’t to help Tommy. It was to bait you into action, to make you reveal yourself—to show that, now, you had something you couldn't afford to lose. It didn't matter that you told yourself this agreement with Tommy was transactional. A lost investment would stay lost. But to lose Tommy was something else entirely, and you never would have allowed that to way on your conscience if he'd been killed.

You walked straight into it. Bingham knew, once again, that you allowed yourself to care enough to risk your security.

You pushed away from the counter, your heart pounding so violently it sent aches through your veins. If Bingham was watching, if this was all part of some plan, then Tommy’s visit tonight might not have gone unnoticed.

Your jaw clenched as the anger burned through your skin. You’d been a fool to think you could outmaneuver someone like Bingham without consequences. All at once, it was crumbling down at your feet. You could blame Tommy all you wanted, but all of this came down to the decision you made.

You ran to your office, hastily pulling one of the drawers, and reloaded your pistol. If someone was going to act tonight, let them. All you knew was that this wouldn't end well.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

Arthur and John Shelby lingered in the shadows, the bookshop just within view. Tommy told them to follow him there, his expression unreadable as he gave the order. Others remained in the car, each more confused than the next.

“She won’t like it,” Arthur muttered, lighting a cigarette. "If she swings a bottle at my head—"

“She doesn’t have to like it,” Tommy replied, his voice cold. “Just make sure she’s not alone. Finn and I will be at the Garrison.”

"You really think something's going to happen?" John asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Tommy didn't explained himself further, but Arthur and John didn’t really need an answer. They’d seen the way Tommy looked at you, even if he refused to admit it. He’d do what he always did—protect what mattered to him, whether or not he said it out loud.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

You stayed behind the counter, eyes darting back and forth between the passing shadows on the street. When the burden finally felt too heavy, you pressed your palms against your eyes, suddenly feeling so foolish at your paranoia. Bingham was too smart, and he already knew where you were. Why wouldn't he show himself? What would turning you mad do for him in the end?

You paced between the shelves of books, revolver at your side. You had to do something to keep your mind preoccupied, or else you really would go crazy. The maddening effects of staying awake for so long would get you first, and the mania would hit later. You were no good to anyone without your mind, but dying was so much more terrifying.

You looked down to the floor just as a shadow passed over the window, cloaking your legs in darkness.

The shot rang loud, piercing the window and into your shoulder. The burn came quickly, the force of the bullet sending you back into one of the shelves. You fired towards the shadow, and the window shattered completely.

The crack of your gun echoed down the street, but the damage was already done. The scent of petrol filled your lungs as it cascaded into your shop through the open window.

The flicker of flames caught your eye, and you turned to see fire licking at the edges of the bookshop’s doorway. Before you could move, a sharp pain erupted in your side. Amidst all of it, you never felt the second shot—the bullet still deep inside.

Your vision blurred, but you held yourself steady against the shelves. Your arm ran cold with the dampness of blood soaking your sleeve.

✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒✒

“Bloody hell,” Arthur muttered, tossing his cigarette aside when he saw the flames.

John moved quickly, his hand on his gun. He screamed your name, the sound desperately fighting the din of crackling paper and splintering wood.

The car emptied as the two of them rushed toward the bookshop, Arthur cursing under his breath. They reached you just as you stumbled out of the doorway, nearly collapsing on the street.

“Find Tommy—” John commanded to the others as he grabbed your arm to steady you. They scattered in the direction of the Garrison.

“Get her out of here,” Arthur barked, his voice rough with urgency.

You tried to protest, but the pain was overwhelming. You wanted to tell them that your things were on the second floor, but the smoke overtook the street. Before long, everything would be lost.

“We’ll handle it,” Arthur said firmly, shoving you toward John. “Go!”

John half-carried you to the relative safety of an alleyway, his grip firm but careful. “Stay here,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You leaned against the wall, breaths shallow. You watched as Arthur disappeared into the chaos, his gun raised, his silhouette outlined by the glow of the flames.

The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning paper and charred wood. The night was lit up with the flames of the bookshop, a chaotic dance of fire and shadows that seemed to mirror your own inner turmoil. Blood soaked through your coat, warm and sticky. You staggered, leaning heavily on the side of the car as you watched everything be swallowed by light.

Arthur appeared from the smoke, his eyes narrowed and calculating as he took in the sight of your injuries. “Did they shoot you or try to gut you with a pitchfork?”

You managed a weak smile, the pain radiating through you like a live wire. “Gentleman’s choice, I suppose.”

“We need to get her to the Garrison now,” John muttered, his eyes dark with something that wasn’t just irritation.

You didn’t respond, too caught up in trying to stay upright. The effort left you feeling dizzy, the edges of your vision tinged with gray. By now the pain was blinding. John lifted you into the car, and the last you remember feeling before the burn took over again was the feeling of cold air blowing against your cheeks.

[karasbroken]

Is it wrong that this is actually my favorite D'Argo ship? I wish so much they'd gone with this rather than the weird thing they did with Jool kissing John in Peacekeeper Wars.

It's not that I don't enjoy certain aspects of D'Argo/Chiana! I never really found them problematic despite their relative age/maturity differences. I think their relationship actually made them both better. But I also enjoyed the completely frelled way they broke up and the difficult aftermath, and the way they just had to deal with each other because they couldn't go their separate ways. It all worked for me, every messy bit, and I think it was good to show from early on that they weren't endgame, and I don't think they needed to be together to have the power of D'Argo's death at the end.

By contrast I think Jool and D'Argo actually make a lot of sense. Still very different people, but he could have calmed her down and she could have pushed him to be more, and I really could see them settling down on an archaeological digsite, her mostly doing science, him mostly doing farming, but fighting about artifact interpretations and soil science, and having a few kids with very weirdly natural defenses from predators. Aunty Chi could come by periodically to lay low when she was in trouble, and teach the brats how to torment their parents and enjoy being terrible and hilarious and a warm sad memory in between adventures and other partners. (I wouldn't even object to them as a very loose, very occasional triad if you forced me.)

But that was probably every kind of too daring, even for Farscape. Would anyone like to write me some fanfiction?

[zeb-z]

jrwi riptide 115

So the elephant in the room. Grandberry traitor. It’s Caspian or John right? Those are the two we know, the two we are attached to, it’s not just gonna be random new recruit #7 out of the unnamed folks they’ve picked up. It’s not that one healer from Joaldo who joined them that I can’t remember his name right now.

John has made it clear since he revolted from the Navy that he’s kept up with the Grandberry pirates, that all he wants is to join them. That could be a flag. The fact that he was part of his own “special unit” or something along those lines before going outlaw. There’s the journal of his they found back at Zero that they never truly read through and tossed after reading the first poem, which might have had definite answers. And this is small, but he was really protective over keeping the pin from Jayson Ferin.

But the block throws a wrench in it, because why would they throw him in their highest security prison and let him freeze? Unless somehow John was sure without a shadow of a doubt they would have come back for him, and they weighed the risk and reward. The Ferin family drama could have thrown a wrench in their plans enough to have thrown away any plans on easier escape. It’s plausible, but it just is too much of a discrepancy. And John wears his heart on his sleeve, since episode zero he has, it’s hard to think of him as the traitor.

Then there’s Caspian, who has been with Lizzie since almost the beginning, from Shadowbeard’s crew. It’s where they met, and they both survived and escaped Shatter Skull massacre together. But that means he was there for the fall of Shadowbeard, and Ava Ferin’s death. And while it’s pretty much said by Lizzie she thinks it’s Ava who betrayed her, with everything else said, and with what Jay remembers and loves of her sister, it just doesn’t quite track. There was an ulterior motive to kill Ava in the same fight, ordered by someone higher up, playing into the propaganda and fear mongering against pirates and pro Raft agenda. And he knows Edyn Tidestrider, he was the one to reunite her and Gillion. He has her number. And she is gills deep in double-triple agent Raft bullshit.

But could he have been such a double agent all this time, since Shatter Skull? After all his blood sweat and tears, all the weight he’s lifted for Lizzie? All the Edyn stuff could easily be a coincidence, considering their Undersea connection. And he’s not quite heart on his sleeve honest as John has been, but he’s chill like that, he’s kindhearted and patient. And after everything, and I mean everything, he’s done - for Gillion especially - giving him his sword, reuniting him with his sister, daily phone calls, teaching him spells and moves, being the first friend especially from the undersea and reconnecting him with their culture - it’s so hard to think of him as the traitor.

There’s proof enough for both of them. But everything considered, with how undercover and long term the black book missions are, how even Jay had been a spy at one point - Caspian makes the most sense, doesn’t he.

[stevethehairington]

okay but i need ALL of the fics that take place during crozier getting sober. like i feel like there is SO much potential here bc it is THEE biggest turning point for him! esp with regards to fitzjames and their relationship. like fitzjames seeing crozier's choice to sober up as this huge defining moment, one that ultimately and unequivocally earns his respect (back, really, because he DID have respect for crozier at first, before he met him. and now he sees that that respect wasnt misgiven, not really). and like the way this choice is what causes the first crack in james' mask around crozier! ugh it's just DELICIOUS.

[good-to-drive]

The thing is that none of the beatles could be trusted to water your house plant for a week. They'd all accidentally kill it, the difference among them lies in whether they would a) admit what they did and apologize, b) replace it with a near-identical plant and try to gaslight you into thinking it's the same one, c) try to convince you the plant died of natural causes and it wasn't their fault, or d) skip town and start a new life in a new country and never speak to you or anyone else from their old life ever again.

[winterdaphne2]

Thank you so much for answering this! There's no need to apologize for a delay at all :) I know I'm late in responding myself, so I'm going to tag you here as well @asherlockstudy in the hopes you'll see this.

You've made some great points, so thank you for giving me the chance to think about all this again. I still think I have more thoughts and unanswered questions, though, so I tried to respond...and then wrote the below, which is basically an excessively long meta of my own thoughts on when John may or may not have realized. I'd be happy to hear what you think if you'd like to reply again, but there's no pressure :)

First, thank you for linking to your meta about "John's choices." It's been a while since I've read it, but I read through it again and I'm really glad you explained the scene between Sherlock and John in the entryway to 221B at the end of TEH. I'm intrigued by your point about how John tries to get Sherlock to open up in this scene. Relatedly, I agree with your comments on this meta about the train car scene. In that scene, Sherlock deliberately led John to believe that they were both about to die in the hopes that if John thought those were his last moments, he would finally open up about his feelings for Sherlock, admit that he was in love with Sherlock and not with Mary, and agree to leave Mary for Sherlock. But Sherlock misjudged the situation. John still wasn't prepared to face his feelings at that point. For John, the confrontation in the train car came too soon after Sherlock's return and before he'd had enough time to process how he truly felt about Sherlock being back. Sherlock was heartbroken when he realized that John wasn't prepared to open up and say more than he did at the graveyard, but when he saw this was the case, he revealed that he'd already turned off the bomb and used humor to diffuse the situation (which is a strategy Sherlock uses several times in S3 when he and John get themselves into emotional situations that he thinks they're unprepared to handle).

I especially appreciate your point about the entryway scene because your reading of this scene suggests that John might have only needed another day or two after that tense moment in the train car before he actually would be prepared to talk to Sherlock about his feelings. This fits so well with John's earlier behavior in TEH! When Sherlock first revealed himself to John at the Landmark, John was furious with him, and they clearly didn't part on good terms that evening. But the next day, less than 24 hours later, John had already cooled off and was counting down the hours until he could visit Sherlock after work. So perhaps John felt very similarly during and after the train car scene. At first everything happens too quickly for him, and he isn't prepared to reveal how he feels. But a day later, he's had time to process and he's ready to have a more honest conversation with Sherlock, if Sherlock seems receptive.

But of course, Sherlock doesn't understand this. Sherlock thinks that John gave him his answer in the train car and that John still isn't prepared to face his feelings for him and leave Mary. Part of the problem, I think, is that Sherlock never seems to have realized that John tried to visit him at 221B the day after he returned to London. John tried to visit Sherlock that day after his shift at the surgery, but he was kidnapped by Magnussen's men before he got up to the flat. And when John came to visit Sherlock after he rescued him from the bonfire, John didn't make any references to his earlier attempt to come to 221B. It seems like Sherlock was away from the flat and out with Molly when John came by anyway, so he couldn't have observed John on the pavement. So Sherlock never seems to know about this. He never realizes that all John needed was just one day to cool off. As a result, Sherlock closes himself off from John in the entryway scene, trying to mask how he feels as an act of self-preservation.

I am less convinced that John already knows about Sherlock's feelings by this point, though. After all, Moriarty kidnapped John to get to Sherlock back in TGG, and that didn't seem to prompt any epiphanies for John. John didn't seem to realize what Sherlock and Moriarty both had by the end of the pool scene—that Sherlock was in love with John, and that Moriarty could destroy Sherlock by either hurting John or damaging Sherlock and John's relationship.

I agree that by the time the stag night rolls around in TSOT, John has started to feel desperate and would be fully willing to cheat on Mary with Sherlock (or perhaps even leave her for him) if he felt that Sherlock gave him the go-ahead. During the stag night, Sherlock carefully tracks their alcohol intake because he believes that John truly wants to be with Mary and he's determined not to mess this up for John by allowing the two of them to cross their carefully-maintained boundaries with each other. John, however, has other ideas. John purposely spikes Sherlock's drink and takes extra shots himself in a deliberate effort to get them both drunk so that he can make a move on Sherlock. When they're back at 221B and playing the "forehead detectives" game, John does exactly that. But even though Sherlock seems relaxed and comfortable, John doesn't think Sherlock gives him enthusiastic encouragement, and he backs down. (LIST explains this in their meta here.)

To me, all of this indicates that John thinks there's hope that Sherlock might return his feelings, but he still has a lot of doubts. John has never gotten what he sees as a clear answer from Sherlock, so the fact that he thinks they both need to be drunk before he can try to make a move reveals that John doesn't feel completely confident about this. I think this likely demonstrates both that John isn't completely sure how Sherlock feels about him, and that John still isn't comfortable with what his love for Sherlock means for his own sexuality. John seems to have a lot of internalized biphobia in S3 (which is a whole other topic). And even though John knows that he isn't in love with Mary the way he is with Sherlock, and even though he might feel conflicted about settling down with her, he also seems reluctant to let go of his chance at a heteronormative lifestyle with Mary unless Sherlock is completely clear with him.

I've seen a few other people also point to that moment at the wedding reception, after Sherlock reveals that Mary is pregnant, as the moment when John finally realizes that Sherlock is in love with him. I think that's possible, but there's one thing that happens after this that really, really throws me off.

It's the scene between John and Lestrade at 221B in HLV after Sherlock escapes from the hospital. John says to Lestrade, "But why would he care? He’s Sherlock. Who would he bother protecting?" as he sits down in his own chair. And John looks genuinely confused when he say this. John!! In that moment, John still doesn't seem to realize that he is the most important person in the world to Sherlock and that Sherlock would do anything to protect him. Perhaps giving us even more evidence of this, Sherlock calls John's phone a few moments later, and John doesn't immediately answer. If we're following the phone = heart metaphor, then Sherlock is trying to reach out to John's heart, but John still doesn't get it and isn't immediately receptive. ("Answer your phone, I've been calling you!")

I agree that the scene between Sherlock, John, and Mary at 221B after they return from Leinster Gardens is an incredibly important Johnlock scene, but I read John's actions in this scene a little differently from how you do. It seems to me that John still doesn't realize that Sherlock is in love with him, and in this scene John feels furious at himself for being so in love with Sherlock when he believes that Sherlock will never feel the same way about him. John is angry at himself for never being able to let Sherlock go, no matter how hard he tries. Making things even worse, John thinks, when he tried to move on from Sherlock and find someone who wasn't like Sherlock, someone who could give him the safe, heteronormative lifestyle that he thinks he's supposed to want, the whole thing blew up in his face and led to this awful situation. So when John grits out "Always your way," to Sherlock, I think he's expressing his frustration that no matter what happens, he will always do things Sherlock's way. John is disgusted and angry at himself for being so hopelessly in love with Sherlock and unable to move on when he thinks that Sherlock will never love him back.

I do think it's possible that John finally figures things out at some point in HLV, though, and that's because of the waterfall scene in TAB. In that scene, we get this exchange:

Sherlock: Thank you, John. John: Since when do you call me “John”? Sherlock: (smiling tenderly) You’d be surprised. John: (smiling back at him) No, I wouldn’t.

As you and @ivyblossom said here, this is the moment when John reveals that he knows Sherlock is in love with him. And I also think that the way John delivers this dialogue and the tender shared smiles between him and Sherlock indicate that John is completely at peace with this. So if we read this scene as one of the many scenes in TAB that tell us something about the parts of the show that we've already seen, then this seems to give us proof that by the time Sherlock got on the plane in HLV, John had already realized that Sherlock was in love with him—and had perhaps even made peace with that.

If that's the case, but John still didn't know by the time of the scene between him and Greg in 221B, then I think it's most likely that John figured it out after Sherlock shot Magnussen. That was an incredible act of love and self-sacrifice on Sherlock's part, and even though John doesn't seem to immediately realize this in the moment, his behavior during the tarmac scene suggests that he might have figured it out afterwards. During the tarmac scene, John clearly telegraphs through his body language that he isn't prepared for an emotional goodbye with Sherlock. Sherlock picks up on this, and because Sherlock is so incredibly selfless and loves John so much, he backs down from his initial plan of finally telling John that he loves him. Sherlock realizes that John can't handle hearing that, so he once again switches to humor to try to diffuse the situation and to make John more comfortable. So, I think it's possible that John realized Sherlock was in love with him after he shot Magnussen, and that's part of why he's so upset and so unprepared for an emotional goodbye on the tarmac.

But...I say this mostly because of the waterfall scene in TAB, and I don't think the tarmac scene alone gives us definitive proof. It would still be entirely reasonable for John to feel and act the way he does on the tarmac because of his own feelings for Sherlock, without knowing that Sherlock is in love with him.

Ultimately, I think TAB still leaves things murky. There are two other possible readings of the waterfall scene, as I see it. First, all of this happens in Sherlock's head, so it's possible that this is simply what Sherlock wants desperately. Sherlock longs for John to realize that he's in love with him, to finally overcome his internalized biphobia, and to accept both his feelings for Sherlock and Sherlock's feelings for him wholeheartedly. So this could all be Sherlock's dream, but not his and John's reality at this point in the show. Alternatively, I also think the waterfall scene was initially intended to foreshadow a different ending to the show (one where Moriarty was actually still alive) that the creators abandoned for some unknown reason when they made S4. I know you've written about this scene as foreshadowing in your TAB metas! So perhaps we could also read the dialogue between John and Sherlock here as foreshadowing, indicating that John would eventually come to realize that Sherlock was in love with him and accept this. But he hadn't yet.

So in the end, I'm not sure that we have an answer as to whether or not John ever realizes that Sherlock is in love with him. The big thing that really throws things off for me is that one scene between John and Greg in HLV, because it really seems to indicate that John hadn't figured things out before that point. (If you or anyone else reading this has another explanation for that scene, though, I'd love to hear it!) If it weren't for John's dialogue in that scene, I could definitely see a lot of the other scenes in HLV as evidence that Sherlock and John both know about each other's feelings. And I also totally agree with you that something seems to have gone terribly wrong behind the scenes after S3, and the creators scrapped their original plans for the show's ending. To me, that's a big reason why TAB leaves things feeling so ambiguous. Since we'll never know exactly what the creators were planning for the rest of the show when they made TAB, it's hard to know if the waterfall scene was meant to provide commentary on events that had already happened, to reflect Sherlock's desires and nothing more, or foreshadow what was yet to come. And if it was intended to do some mixture of all three, then we don't know what that means for the Johnlock moment in that scene.

Anyway, thanks again for replying to my ask! I'm sorry I wrote something so long right back at you, but this post just got longer and longer the more I thought about everything! A big thank you to anyone else who might have stumbled upon this and read it 😊

Hi! If you're still open to answering Sherlock-related asks, I was wondering when you think John realized Sherlock was in love with him? I know you've said you think they both know about each other's feelings, and I'm with you on when Sherlock figures out about John. But I've never been able to quite figure out when John recognizes Sherlock's feelings. I think the waterfall scene in TAB implies that John knows, and I think he might know by the time of the tarmac scene. But I'm not sure. Thanks!

Hello! I am so sorry for this huge delay. I was busy IRL and at the same time a lot of stuff was happening in another fandom which is very active rn, so the ask was kinda staying behind. I know answered asks get a notification however I will tag you here too @winterdaphne2 to make sure you see this after all this time.

Yes, I strongly believe John knows by HLV. I talk about it a little in the meta "Why did Sherlock push John and Mary back together?" . The key phrase "Your way. Always your way" and the context within which it was uttered, John's confession that Mary was never supposed to be someone he would truly fall in love with (as opposed to Sherlock who was ticking all John's boxes, adventurous people living in danger etc) and Sherlock understanding it but pretending he didn’t and thus failing John and provoking more anger in him ("Why is everything...always... MY FAULT?!"), all those things make me conclude John knew by that point that Sherlock loved him and yet he was insisting on doing nothing about it. In other words, John knew the truth.

As to when he first realised, well we should keep in mind that John suspects Sherlock is gay from the very first day they moved in together because everybody who knows Sherlock insinuates it, Mycroft, Mrs Hudson, Donovan... The fact that from the Blind Banker onwards John suddenly becomes very heteronormative and defensive shows he feels a "threat" in the atmosphere, both due to his own impulses but also due to Sherlock's flamboyant demeanour, his habits, including casually walking around him naked (see John’s blog). In fact, when John starts suspecting Sherlock might be into the Woman, he's equal parts angry and startled. I suppose there was no way to know before the third season because Sherlock was so emotionally guarded, however he did hope, given his suspicions that Sherlock was gay and that their bond was unique and he was visibly an exception in how Sherlock treated people in his life.

At the wedding night John sees the sorrow on Sherlock's face and nearly has a heart attack. I think everything was confirmed there for him. However, I think the time he started landing on the conclusion for good was in TEH. This is the episode in which, after John is kidnapped and thrown into the fire, John keeps pressing Sherlock for an answer regarding why one would choose to harm him if it's Sherlock they are after. He is not truly wondering though. He lingers in the pavement (always a romantic affair, Sherlock tells us in the next episode) and then goes up and asks this with a very knowing look. Then again towards the end of the episode, in the staircase. His face screams suspicion, it screams tease, it screams expectation to finally hear Sherlock say it. Alas, Sherlock doesn't. Met with Sherlock's stubborness and with a wedding proposal looming over his head, John has no choice but to open up himself so he starts telling Sherlock that he went to his grave and "spoke" to him. Sherlock acknowelges this but again chooses to avoid the conversation John tries to start multiple times. John gives up and resumes his proposal to Mary. I think at this episode John finally knew for sure but he also realised that Sherlock was determined to not act on his feelings. I have made a more detailed analysis of this with pictures in the meta "John's Choices (from TEH to TLD)".

Besides, the next episode, TSOT, is the only time John actually makes a physical advance on Sherlock. Sure he was inebriated but I think John had SO many inhibitions anyway that even when drunk he would not be so bold if he wasn’t getting all the green lights of the world from Sherlock at that moment. So, he knew. He knew that if Sherlock dropped his fascade, he would want this.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

though i eventually got to read some, in earlier years goosebumps books would be the kind of series where i'd just ponder the cover art, and i always liked the drama of the monster blood illustration (the lighting/colors....sure nothing's happening in it but i felt it evoked the drama of "what if you're downstairs and something's upstairs" much like "what if you're upstairs and something's downstairs") like well too bad i guess i never got around to reading i at the time. but as of a recap yesterday i'm surprised to now be at least 90% sure i read part if not all of it, and thinking i hadn't may be due to how kind of nothing happens in it

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, Bruce gentle parenting the fuck out of the Justice League is literally such a funny concept. Like, the only reason it works so well is because of the overwhelming amount JL Daddy Issues; they’re all secretly desperate for some parental affection and Bruce is so naturally a Dad that he can’t help himself.

That gold star thing he used to do with Dick? Where he gave him a little star every time he kept himself safe during a patrol? Same thing works perfectly for Clark. He’s literally indestructible (but Bruce worries) so whenever he comes out unscathed from a battle (which is most of the time) he’ll hand Clark a little golden star sticker. Clark collects those things like they’re priceless artifacts and sticks them on his laptop.

The anger management therapy he did with Jason? Where he’d run through katas (a series of choreographed martial arts movements) whilst doing breathing exercises? Works like a charm on Diana and Dinah. They’re both super powered, so anything Bruce puts in front of her they’ll destroy, so going through a good old fashioned kata before a big mission will help them both focus without risking the destruction of the Watchtower.

The mindful meditation he did with Tim? When they’d sit in silence until Tim’s brain finally trained itself to know rest? It’s the perfect thing for Barry. He’s a speedster so his brain moves at about the same pace as Bruce and Tim’s (though maybe not quite as analytically); the post-mission meditation sessions are the perfect thing to help him calm down.

The art therapy he did with Damian? Where they’d paint memories that brought them pain/loneliness/loss/sadness because talking about it was too hard? Surprisingly, both John and Hal are into it. (Must be a Lantern thing.) Neither of them are great artists, but John paints about his time in the army and Hal about his time in the Air Force. They’ve both lost friends and comrades, have seen the worst of humanity up close, and just can’t always verbalize that feelingly of powerlessness even though their the galaxy’s greatest warriors—but they can paint it.

The silent chess games he’d play with Cassandra? Where’d they’d sit there and pick each others brains without having to say a word, could communicate an immense amount of emotion with the slide of a pawn? Great for Jon. He can’t talk into Bruce’s mind (not without considerable effort) and he can’t really talk to Bruce about everything that happened to him on Mars, but they can sit and play chess until they both have a mutual understanding of one another’s trauma.

All the crocheting he’s done with Steph? Where they’d sit in front of a fireplace in Wayne Manor and discuss their similarly complex relationships with their parents? Loved to do this with Arthur, of all people. They have to get waterproof Atlantean yarn, but the efforts worth the creations they make during Monitor duty, and it’s one of those rare time when Arthur can really vent about all of his troubles leading a life above and below sea, being a king, his love life—anything. Bruce will always listen.

And then, all of the soccer that he’s played with Duke? Where they’d let loose and just be competitive? Cyborg similarly appreciates this, but prefers football, naturally. Now, Bruce is too old to tackle a Mother-Box-Enhanced human, but that doesn’t stop him from covertly setting up pick-up football games on the front lawn of the Hall of Justice every other week.

So yeah. Bruce and his gentle parenting.

[hom3land3r]

Mirrorlander would’ve warned James not to touch the cage had he any strength to do so. His brows furrowed in concern hearing his lover hiss and seeing the smoke rise from his palm. He wanted to tell James to get back, to keep his distance. He wanted to say a lot of things, but his energy was too drained to even utter a sound. It was like he was frozen there, melded with the cage itself, not moving. The only sign of life being his ragged heartbeat working overtime.

He couldn’t even react to James’ voice, the softer tone when speaking with him. All that mattered was that he was here now, and that the demon’s time within the cage was coming to an end. Hazy eyes watched as James turned to Angela once more and ordered her to turn off the heat. It was useless for her to resist. She was cornered now, stuck in a room with a very pissed off vampire who had the ability to make her do whatever he wanted. She’d lost. And she’d soon pay the price for it.

The air finally began to settle, no longer as thick with heat. But it was still there, still trapped within the cage. However, Mirrorlander slowly regained his strength now that he wasn’t cooking alive any more. As air ventilated, he gasped deeply, inhaling it quickly. So quickly he caused himself to cough from it, but it felt so good to be able to breathe again. He could put up with the lingering warmth. He used the wall as support as he slowly rose to his feet. He was shaky, unbalanced, but his energy was returning. He could focus now on what was going on around him, his gaze instantly locking with James as if to ensure himself the leech really was here. That this wasn’t just his mind playing tricks. He gave a small nod as thanks, but also reassurance that he was alright. He felt their bond again, loud, strong and unbreakable. If there was anything James wanted to know, it would be open for him to read through their connection. Mirrorlander was now an open book, guard well and truly gone when it came to the vampire.

Their attention then shifted to Angela who still had to be dealt with. The demon was glad he was more awake and alert for this as he didn’t want to miss a single second of his lover in action. He smirked as James grabbed her and held her against him in a very primal vampiric hold. His gaze shifted to Angela as she stared at him in fear, yet the blonde only tilted his head slightly as he looked at her, almost as if saying i told you so. Now that she was in that unbreakable grasp, this truly was the end for her. Mirrorlander witnessing her final moments. And he felt nothing but joy.

His hateful gaze softened as he looked at James, loving the mischief in those gorgeous green eyes. “Sounds like a perfect idea.” There would be no mercy from either of them. The demon focused, staring Angela down as she screamed when fangs pierced flesh. He was right there, flooding her mind with the pain, the suffocating warmth that he felt trapped in that cage. Every nerve set on fire, the woman burning from the inside. Oh yes, her last moments would be full of nothing but agony as the two beasts devoured on her pain and suffering. Mirrorlander’s eyes began to glow. While he was still unable to use his lasers, it didn’t stop the sheer rage he felt shining through. “I warned you, Angela. You sealed your fate the moment you thought I was yours to take. You have no one to blame for this but yourself. I never was nor ever will be yours. You can tell that to Madelyn, Edgar and Vogelbaum when you see them in hell.” The demon spat the words, viscous and sharp as any blade. Though he’d said all he wanted to say. The rest was up to James. This was his moment and one that Mirrorlander would always remember. The moment when everything changed for him, his outlook on the vampire. He’d been so used to people causing John pain that he didn’t trust anyone, wouldn’t let anyone in.

Except for James. It would always be James.

Mirrorlander drifted in and out of consciousness, fighting to stay awake. The room had fallen quiet save for the hum and sound of the cage radiating heat. His eyes tried to focus and take in the room, noting that Angela had disappeared. He was alone, left cooking in the cage. At least he had some peace and quiet, no more of her blabbering. He appreciated not having an audience either. Something Vought never gave him: privacy.

His mind drifted as memories played back in blurred visions, echos of the past. He saw him and James together, all those nights when the demon simply wanted to devour and claim his mate, stubborn to allow it to be seen as anything more. He saw himself helping John to save James from his own memories, with Commodore calling for his aid. Saw himself smiling as his eyes caught his brat from across a crowded room. Saw James’ face light up when being called leech shifted from a cruel taunt to the demon’s way of showing affection.

Each thought was filled with the vampire. Memories weaving into one another, blending together as they did. There was no him and John anymore. It was them and always would be them. His mind drifted as far back as to when they first met. James pettiness over a stolen meal being the stepping stone into what would entwine their lives forever. Their first scuffle on the beach, how Homelander had branded the vampire, at the time out of hate, unbeknownst that he had claimed the leech right then and there. Despite all the hate Mirrorlander claimed to have, he couldn’t…and wouldn’t kill James. Not then and certainly not now. He’s gone from someone the demon tolerated for John’s benefit to someone he couldn’t live without either. If he was to burn in this cage, he would do so with the memories that burned hotter than any oven. It’s what would keep him going until the end.

Mirrorlander had no clue what was going on between James and Angela. He was dazed, exhausted. Drained. So much so he had no idea how much time had passed. The heat was suffocating, skin glistening with sweat. His costume however continued to endure, able to withstand almost anything. Even though John was safely tucked away in the depths of the demon’s mind, he still held on and kept strong. For John’s sake. He did all he could to block out the pain, the trauma, and spare his other half. He just hoped it would be enough, that he could hold on enough until James got them out of here.

At some point Mirrorlander passed out without even knowing he had. The loud sound of a door being kicked open startled him as his eyes snapped open. He tried to focus on the shapes that appeared in his vision, though he already knew who it was. Of course he did. He felt it. Even before that familiar voice boomed through the room, he knew. An exhausted smile crossed his features. “B…out t…time, l-leech…” He choked out, voice barely above a whisper. It was impossible for the demon to tell whether this was real or part of his imagination. Either way, he found comfort in it. That against all odds, against everything, no matter what, James would always be there. His loyalty and love knew no bounds.

He did his best to keep his eyes opened, not wanting to miss any chance of seeing his brat. It was the distraction and focus he needed while being cooked alive, not wanting to give in to the pain. Not wanting to let Angela win. Whatever happened next would give Mirrorlander his answer as to whether this was real or imaginary. Though, nothing would change the fact that through it all, through the worst times, the only thought in the demon’s mind was of James. The only one who was braver and stronger than the world’s greatest superhero. Homelander might have that title when it comes to the public. But in his eyes, James will always have that title.

Perhaps now Angela would understand that Mirrorlander had only spoken the truth. That there were no threats, just promises. Perhaps now she would understand what he and James had went far beyond love. It was something else entirely. Something that couldn’t be explained nor shared. Nor severed. For she would bear witness to the wrath of an elder vampire, one that could be just as cold and cruel as he could be. She would learn the hard way that both men weren’t all that different from one another, especially when their mate was concerned.

Love always wins.

[amandabbbbb]

summary: rafe who protects maybank!reader from luke bc jj is too busy finding gold to protect his sister

tw: parental abuse, mention of drugs, rafes sweet but kinda demanding

word count: 526

you covered a shift working at the wreck because kie could never be bothered to take a shift at her dad’s restaurant, too busy running around the island trying to find whatever gold bullshit that john b has got your brother’s friends and him hung up on. you call jj, overwhelmed from the morning of dealing with your father luke’s fit of rage.

“are you gonna be home tonight? dad just bought a bunch of drugs from barry’s and i don’t want to be alone. i’m scared.”

“sis, you know i love ya, but do you want our lives to get better or not? i’m tryna get us out of this hell, alright? so just stay in your room and don’t come out. love ya, bye.”

he hung up before you could squeeze in another cry for help. just as your salty tears fall, rafe cameron motions you over to give him his bill. you wipe your tears away and give him the fakest smile. he orders you to sit in the opposite empty chair.

“are you alright, sweetheart? i heard that. you know, i know your dad’s a druggie dick. i’ve seen him at barry’s. I gotta get you out of that house. i see your bruises. you know all that makeup doesn’t cover it.” he grabs your arm and rolls up your sleeve, showing your bruise from your father. you, flustered, pull away as his tone was demanding.

before you could even respond, kie’s words ring in your ears: “rafe cameron wouldn’t be caught dead eating here, especially alone. he usually spends his time at the country club. to a kook like him, the wreck is a dump. but ever since you started working there, he always sits at the same table almost every day, staring at you your whole shift, and if you aren’t his waitress, he makes a huge fuss. he’s so sweet to you, always.”

“rafe, really, i’m alright. don’t worry about me.”

“stay at mine tonight, y/n. i’ll take care of you.” he sets 1000 dollars down on the table. he usually gives you a 100 or 200 dollar tip but never this much. you barely know rafe.

“rafe, no. i can’t take this. i don’t even know… uh, uh, rafe, i can’t.”

“stop mumbling and take it. your dad spends all his money on drugs and your brother’s too goddamn worried about god knows what to even be home to take care of you. so i’m going to man up and protect you, okay? so shut up.”

that night after your shift, you stay at rafe’s house. he lets you stay in sarah’s room since the camerons are away. for the first time in ages, you finally relax, safe from your abusive father. you fall asleep almost instantly, exhausted from the stress. rafe makes sure you’re comfortable, checking on you throughout the night. when you wake up in the morning, you find a note and breakfast waiting for you. the note reads:

“good morning, sweetheart. had to run some errands. i know we’re very different but i know what you’re going through. stay as long as you need. you’re safe here. - rafe.”

[manapeer]

I'll call my dad

The justice league was in disaray. They had failed to stop the summoning, and already the demon was stepping out of the portal. The last standing heros didn't have the manpower to stop a whole thrall army and the magic users certainly hadn't the power to deal with the demon himself. They needed a plan, or a miracle, or the earth was doomed.

Suddenly, Constantine braced himself, and strode right to the beast.

"Don't step further, or I'll have to call my dad."

The heros were baffled. The demon too.

"Your... dad ?"

"That's right," he was sweating bullets but he continued "I'm John Constantine and Phantom is my dad. He cares a lot about Earth. He will not take kindly your little invading stunt."

"Who is Phantom ?" wispered Flash to Zatana.

"I don't know."

The league didn't know if he was bluffing or not. Zatana had recently heard rumors about Constantine's father, but it was all vague, shrouded in secrecy.

The surprised past, the demon laught.

"Alright," he mocked, "Let see what your 'dad' think of that."

Constantine took a deep breath and reluctantly put out a piece of paper form his inner pocket. As he put it in fire with a spell, the cave they were in was breifly plunged in freezing cold and supernatural darkness. A thunderous ice crack resoned, that they could feel in their chest as much as they heard. The shadows sleethed into the form of a titanesque being, and suddenly big, bright, lazarus green eyes opened. And they didn't look happy.

"John."

He gulped.

"Hi dad."

"It's a school night."

"I know," the magician cringed, "I swear I have a good reason."

Now the being looked downright pissed.

"Damn, I would hope so ! Do you have any idea what time it is ?"

"He wants to destroy the Earth !" defended Constantine almost petulantly, waving at the confused demon.

The green eyes looked at the demonic being, then the leaguers in various states of injuries, then the demon again. The demon didn't seem like he wanted to be here anymore. He was proved right when he received a monstruous fist in the face.

The entity grabbed him by an ankle, threw him back to hell, then slammed the portal shut as if it was a door. Constantine visibly relaxed.

"Thanks a lot."

"Don't mention it," grumbled the being. "Anything else you need ?"

"No. And I'm really sorry, I know it's late."

"Just don't make it an habit. See you on sunday."

And just like that, he was gone. Wally had to sit down.

"What the fuck."

---

Hi everyone ! I was reminded of that post a while ago where Danny inherited of Connie's soul and decided it counts as adoption (can't find it now) and this is what came to my brain.

[phantomrose96]

I could say more if I did a proper character analysis here but, for now, I’m just musing on how John Gaius absolutely captures a very specific kind of It’s Never My Fault guy.

And John is SMART and he’s good at talking and so he weaves it in so smoothly and like. His uninterrupted monologues in NtN absolutely make you want to be frustrated for him! That dude got put through the wringer!

And these parts are so Good to me because like, if you pay just a little bit of extra attention the patterns emerge. Everyone external to him and his group is an idiot, and can only be cast as such. And they’re stupid and scared and they Wrongly demonize John when he was only trying to help and wait John what was that part in the middle. Repeat that part in the middle. You did WHAT to the cops exactly.

HE never wants to be the Guy Who Says It. He wants to be liked too much. So he relies on people like P— and G— and A— and M— to say it for him. Negotiating for a nuclear warhead but HE John didn’t really wanna be a jerk about it you know? That was everyone else. The cows the cops the people who die on his compound are all brushed over or mocked. His sleepless mad actions, his raising of the dead, his setting off the nuke these are all just, actions. Unfortunate. Necessary. Of a guy who’s been having a REALLY hard time and has been victimized by EVERYONE and he really just wants to save the world, guys, if you’ll just LISTEN.

He’s gotta be the Funny Guy. Everything’s gotta be a Joke because, oh, was that bad? No, I was just joking, you’re taking it too seriously man chill out. He needs to be Liked he needs everyone to Like him and the biggest injustices he faces, in light of nuclear warfare and the eradication of humanity, is that people are being so mean to him.

And the closest he gets to letting flashes of his wrongdoing through are when it challenges his ego to deny it otherwise. Because he’s Smart and he’s Competent and you need to know and recognize and worship this. He didn’t kill all those cops by accident. “Come on, love. Guys as careful as me don’t have accidents.”

He’s just! He’s so! He’s entirely This Guy and he’s GOD. He’s bisexual he’s depressed he’s an obsessive Funnyman he’s blinded by his own ego he’s immortal he’s never to blame he’s more tormented than Jesus if you ask him and don’t ask the people he’s victimized in ways so much worse and he’s. LITERALLY. MADE HIMSELF GOD. I’m obsessed with him.