#plus john's teeny smirk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lex-munro · 2 years

Text

[Suicide Squad Scrap] Princess pt. 14

self-indulgent batjokes-flavored SS/BvS/JL, snippet #14.

references to past Constantine/King Shark (lol).

the piece as a whole is rated Mature for pervasive language, varying degrees of violence, use of controlled substances, sexual references, questionable ethics, and themes of mental illness. set from Flag’s POV, with references to Birds of Prey, but not compliant with The Suicide Squad.

***

Savant keeps his eyes on Joker for the whole flight.

For his part, Joker has been drawing on himself with an eyeliner marker. Flag recognizes some magic runes in the scribbles.

“Constantine teach you that?” Flag asks.

Joker smirks. “Ah, John… It’s not what you’re thinking, you know.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’ve known my darling all my life, remember? I only met John eight years ago, buying a lot of booze at my club. Just broke up with his boyfriend. Got the whole sad story, plus a parade of other sad exes the more wasted he got. I was intrigued—have you seen King Shark?”

Flag grimaces. “Yup.”

“You know he eats people whole, right? Just…om-nom-nom, like the fuckin’ Cookie Monster.”

“Yup.”

“So yeah, I was fucking fascinated. What kinda guy sees that and thinks, ‘I wanna get wrecked by that dick’? Or is it ‘dicks’? Sharks have two, right?”

“Oh my God, Jay…”

Joker shrugs. “Apparently the guy’s as dumb as a really heavy brick but weirdly sweet. Anyway, John couldn’t pay his tab after that sob-fest, so I was gonna get me an ear, or maybe some teeth, and he tells me he knows magic. Ha-fucking-ha, magic, sure. He makes fire by snapping his fingers. Yeah, whatever, I can do that too, with the right chemicals. He draws on the table with fire, and out pops an imp. Y’know, teeny little demon from hell?”

“What the fuck?” says Savant.

“Right? Sitting there on a table in my club! And then the little fucker steals my drink. ‘See?’ says John. ‘I can pay in spells!’ So I say to him, ‘You can walk outta here in one piece right this second if you can give me a way to write just one message in the clouds that lasts for thirty minutes.’”

“What’d you write to the Bat?” Flag asks (while Savant says, “Bullshit!”).

A shrug rolls its way across Joker’s shoulders. “‘Our special place, 8pm,’ and then I signed it with a J in a heart. May or may not have encouraged John to run up more tabs for more little tricks. Nothing major—don’t need demon invasions or portals to hell cramping my style. But it made it pretty easy to set up dates.”

“Waller was pretty adamant I take you along. Thoughts?”

Joker puts the eyeliner away. “Maybe she just wants Daddy to visit again?”

“Why would she want that? She can’t stand him.”

“Well, then maybe I’m just Satan’s special girl.”

The pilot gets on comms to tell Flag they’re almost there.

~“And, uh…I dunno if you’re one for scenery, but this place takes the taco.”~

Frowning, Flag gets up and looks through the front porthole into the cabin. “Oh, you gotta be kiddin’ me.”

It’s a volcanic island. If this Shin guy has a shark tank in his lab, or a white cat, or an absurdly-named henchman, Flag will resign on the spot.

~“Man, shoulda listened when my pops said to go civilian. Nobody said shit about James Bond villains when I took this transfer.”~

“I hear ya, man.”

They land and get escorted inside by a little robot that reminds Flag of a shrunk-down Gonk Droid (according to Junie, the unsung heroes of the Star Wars universe). In an obvious lab area, a guy in a labcoat is poking around at some kind of flying (or swimming?) drone under a magnifier. Twenty feet off, their target is carefully performing a set of physical therapy exercises.

The labcoat looks at them and scurries over. “Oh!” he says. “The—the ones from Ms. Walder—”

“Waller,” Flag corrects him.

“Waller? Waller. Right. From ARGUS. Um. Sh-she didn’t say much about the nature of—”

“We’re here to see Mr. Kane.”

Kane settles into a chair and towels the sweat off his brow and neck. “What for?”

“Job offer,” says Flag. He’s distantly aware of Joker poking around in his usual catlike fashion. “ARGUS is interested in being able to combat potential oceanic threats to the United States. You have experience, knowledge, and technology that we find extremely desireable to that end.”

“Well, for a contractor like me, governments do pay best, when they finally pay. I hear ARGUS is a pretty ruthless outfit—no-holds-barred, get-shit-done, hide-the-dirty-laundry kind of thing.”

“Typically, yes. High risk, high reward.” Something clatters behind him, and he turns to see Joker on the table, crouching to watch Shin work. “And we keep tabs on folks with meta-human abilities, like that unhinged surfer guy calling himself the King of Atlantis.”

That gets Kane’s attention. “Curry?”

“We have a vested interest in being able to knock him cold—or potentially dead—should he become a threat. Sounds like your wheelhouse.”

“Ooh, they use magic!” Joker announces.

Kane gets up. “Hey, don’t touch that!”

Joker grins. “I’m shaking in my boots,” he says as he defiantly pokes the drone with one finger.

“I am an inch away from—”

“From getting a bullet in your knee, if you don’t mind your manners,” Joker says cheerfully. “I recognize some of these runes. Water is the biggie. So these guys from Atlantis use magic that at least a few landlubbers could understand and replicate. Good news for ARGUS.”

“Man, who the hell are you?”

Joker jumps off the table and takes a little bow. “The Joker.”

Flag watches the immediate change in Kane’s tone with deep amusement.

“The Bat’s little boytoy,” Kane says warily. “I hear you know everyone and everything that goes through Gotham or Blüdhaven.”

“You hear right. And who the hell are *you*?”

“Name’s David Kane. I’m not looking to make any enemies, here.”

“Great news! Mmmmizz Waller is looking to make *friends* with you. Between you ‘n me, she needs all the friends she can get, ‘cause she’s kind of a dick.”

Flag holds out the tablet with the contract Waller greenlit. “You’d be monetarily compensated for any missions you choose to complete with us, as well as for any technology we examine. You get all your gear back intact after thorough examination. Interested?”

Kane gestures to the scientist. “Dr. Shin understands it a little more thoroughly than I do, at this point. He’s had time to dismantle and repair while I recuperate.”

“And the offer extends to him, as well.”

“Do iiiiiit,” Joker urges. “It’s so much fun. Travel the world, steal shit, shoot people, get called a hero. Non-stop laugh-riot.”

After a tense moment, Kane takes the tablet and starts reading. He nods, he signs, he hands it back.

“Doctor?” Flag asks, offering the tablet.

Shin looks from the Atlantean tech to Joker to Kane. “Well,” he says, setting his tools aside. “I really couldn’t commit to anything—I’m sponsored now, you see, and in order to keep this amazing facility, I have certain obligations to fulfill. I mean, I—I didn’t sign a non-compete or anything, but…well, I wouldn’t want to risk making my sponsor angry when it was so hard to get any serious attention on my work in the first place.”

Flag nods. “Fair enough. Mr. Kane, we’ll be in touch. Let’s go, gentlemen.”

~*~*~

This time, Flag tries to show up early.

It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference; they’ve already drugged Joker when he arrives.

Slouched on his cot, looking half-dead, half-hungover. Glassy-eyed with sweat making his hair stick to his temples.

The Bat’s gloves creak audibly when he walks past Flag.

The gates open and close with stark, echoing sounds. A startled heron flaps awkwardly overhead.

“You can’t keep coming,” Joker says listlessly. “Who’ll save Gotham?”

“Who’ll save you if I don’t come?” Batman counters.

“I’m making you weaker. I’m not supposed to make you weaker.”

“Don’t say that, Jay.”

“You shouldn’t be coming here. It’s my fault. Take me back to Arkham instead.”

“I thought you were having fun. They let you be bad. There’s Killer Croc, and Deadshot, and Flag…”

“They’re not you. I miss you. And you look worse every time you come. And it’s my fault.”

Batman gestures sharply. “Stop saying that.”

Joker smacks his fists against his cot and screams his frustration at the floor. Then he starts to cry. And then he starts to laugh. He says something too quiet for Flag to hear.

“I know,” Batman says softly.

Another muted whisper, longer this time.

“That’s why I can’t just leave you here. But I can’t get you out, either. Not yet. There’s something wrong at Arkham that makes what Waller’s doing to you look like a damn picnic. It won’t be safe for you there. I have to leave you here, where Flag and the others can help watch your back, but it’s not forever. I’m not—I’m not abandoning you, Jay.”

“Promise you’ll be careful. You’re not getting any younger.”

“That hurts my feelings.”

“Promise!”

“I promise. I’ll even ask for help.”

They lean together, and it’s not really a hug, but it feels twice as intimate. It’s the kind of thing two people get used to when there’s glass or chain-link between them.

NO PHYSICAL CONTACT WHILE CONSCIOUS

Flag feels like an intruder.

When Batman leaves the cage, he stops right beside Flag. “You need to find a way to keep an eye on him when you’re not here. I can’t get here fast enough to make a difference when he needs help.”

Flag nods. “Look, uh…I’m sorry I didn’t trust you at first. It just kept flashing through my mind—every headline, every video clip where you beat the shit outta somebody, and all the times it was him.”

“He gives as good as he gets. I’ve got six major scars caused by him, and three of his tattoos commemorate devastating attacks on my family.”

“I just didn’t think you’d…” Flag trails off. “His file talks a lot about narcissistic delusive fits, and obsessive tendencies, and a certain overriding fixation. I guess I just thought he was imagining that you care. But you do. So.”

Batman gives him a long, weary look.

Oh.

“Oh, shit,” Flag says aloud, but stops himself from saying anything else.

It’s not just heroic compassion or whatever; it’s love, and it’s mutual.

Batman just nods. “Oh, shit,” he agrees. “I know you know what it’s like.”

He thinks of Enchantress and Junie, stuck with each other in the same body, one of them dangerous and borderline-evil, the other sweet as peach tea. He thinks of Joker crouched with the little girl chained up next to the bomb, covered in blood but showing a soft half-smile of reassurance. “I do know what it’s like.”

“There’s a new director at Arkham. Hugo Strange. He’s decided to call himself a ‘warden,’ like it’s a damn prison. Within the first week, the number of lobotomized patients went from two to twenty-seven with no consent forms signed, no next-of-kin to notify. Vulnerable people shuffled away into the fog. When I think of them doing that to him, snuffing out all that fire and parading a dead-eyed vegetable as some kind of success story…”

Shit. Seeing the guy on downers must be like a nightmare come true.

“That’s not gonna happen,” Flag says firmly. “I’d bust him out myself before I let a member of my team suffer something like that. When I say I’m gonna keep a real eye on him now, I mean it. He’s not some lab rat, and whatever Waller’s doing is fucking him up.”

“Thanks. The League…they’re not very sympathetic. I’m used to working alone, but this is too much, and it makes a nice change, getting help from an unexpected corner.”

“Unexpected, huh?”

“I didn’t exactly believe you gave a damn about him, either.”

“That’s fair. We are called ‘the Suicide Squad.’”

Batman takes a long breath. “You have his phone from his confiscated effects?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m gonna send you the footage Waller sent me last night.”

.End.

#fanfic #scraps #Suicide Squad #CANON DIVERGENCE #universe alteration #fic series: princess

5 notes · View notes

ghostiewriter · 3 years

Text

prologue | tale of a slightly unstable teen hero

Summary: JJ’s life is thrown upside down after a school trip. Now he just decide what to do about his newly found powers and discover just how much his life has changed.

Warnings: contains strong language, a teeny sliver of sexual references, just the three boys being dumbasses? a small smidge of angst (it barely counts) and some fighting, kinda amateur but he’ll learn eventually

Word Count: 8.2K (I’m so sorry)

A/N: ahhh so here’s the prologue! Hope you guys enjoy, it’s a bit of a mess and it wasn’t meant to be this long but oh well! This is just to kinda set up the world, I promise the chapters won’t be this messy! There will be way more Kiara in the next chapter as well, don’t worry! Like I said, this is just a filler chapter! Also this is unedited and I am kinda unwell so lets hope this makes sense :) feel free to leave any feedback!!

masterlist // taglist // ao3

JJ prided himself in always loving an adventure. A random trip at 3am when one of his buds felt down? Hell yeah! An exploration through the streets of New York when he decided to ditch his Spanish final? Let’s go, dude! A spontaneous road trip with his boys during summer? JJ was down! But this? This just felt like some sick joke.

Admittedly, JJ wasn’t listening in class when the trip was announced. And as Pope liked to remind him every couple of minutes, this whole situation could have been avoided if he had listened in class. But can you blame the guy? A whole day off school to visit some big corporation uptown where he was getting a free lunch—JJ would be stupid to reject that. Yet, JJ should’ve known there would’ve been some catch, some flaw in this trip. And that flaw was that he had to spend the day walking around Cameron Industries, the biggest nerd fest on the East coast.

JJ was bored out of his mind.

Pope was ecstatic beyond belief.

John B was ready to punch JJ in the face if opened his mouth to complain one more time.

“Why call it a trip when all we do is listen to these dudes in lab coats droning on about some weird gene thing? Like c’mon! A trip is meant for relaxing. Where the fuck am I gonna relax around here, huh? The fucking gift shop—“

“Shut up,” John B hissed at the blonde, smacking JJ’s arm for good measure, to which the blond dramatically whined at. “Just please…shut up. You’ve got one more hour until lunch, alright? Don’t ruin this for him.”

JJ huffed as he glanced over at Pope, who was eagerly questioning every scientist they came across. As much as it pained him to agree with John B, he did have a point. There weren’t enough fingers in the world to count the amount of times JJ had dragged Pope into some anxiety-provoking, impulsive situation. The least he could do is suck it up a little and mope silently as they walk through countless fancy labs that probably each cost more than his apartment complex altogether.

“I don’t know why you’re acting so chuff,” JJ huffed, his fingers twisting the rings that adorned his hands—a force of habit when he was uncomfortable and bored. “You usually back me up on this kinda stuff—“ But JJ didn’t need to finish his question. Oh no, because the answer was right there.

JJ smirked as he turned to John B, one eyebrow raised in question. However, his friend seemed much more content staring at Sarah Cameron from where she stood near the front of the group, smiling towards the tour guide like they were close friends. Which they probably were considering they were standing in the building her father owned.

Ward Cameron. Renowned scientist, billionaire and founder of Cameron Industries. A true inspiration. What started as a hopeless experiment in his high school chemistry lab ended up forging Ward Cameron’s path to success in the biggest multibillion-dollar multinational corporation that held the future for chemical engineering. JJ just thought he was some lucky rich kid that had daddy’s money to support his dream.

And it was for that reason that JJ rolled his eyes, nudging his friend out of his daze. “You do know you don’t stand a chance, right?” JJ commented.

Harsh but true. JJ and the rest of the kids that attended this trip went to Midtown High School. True to its name, it was smack bang in the middle of two very different livelihoods. Uptown Queens: home to the kids who live of old money, designer clothes and trust funds. And Downtown Queens: home to working-middle class who would spend the rest of their lives making a sliver of the uptown folks’ wages.

Take a wild guess which area JJ is from.

However, some old dude in the 60s decided to try and bridge the gap between the classes and thus, the school was born. All it did was let each know how much they resented the other. Yet, John B had fallen into the alluded mind-set of that old geezer and set his eyes on Sarah Cameron, the most uptown chick you’ll get. And of course, JJ was there to remind him of that very fact and push him off that imaginary bridge. It was a fool’s hope to combine the uptown and downtown folk; it was a fool’s hope to try and make them get along. It won’t happen now nor ever.

John B flipped him off. JJ only grinned in response.

Nonetheless, that ended up being the most exciting part of the hour. JJ shuffled along at the back of the group, his eyes constantly wandering around the labs. Did he have any clue what any of it was? Hell no, but he was naturally curious and couldn’t help his hands from wandering. Sue him, he was a teenage boy with ADHD and a knack for getting into trouble—he was bound to do something stupid.

His interest in science perked up a bit when he noticed a small enclosure of what looked like completely normal spiders, yet as their tour guide spoke, they were anything but normal.

“Our team have been working on taking the genetic code of three separate species of arachnids and combining them to form a super-spider. One which can survive and reproduce and live as any other would. It is the first step in the future of genetic engineering and modification. With this technology, we could find cures to diseases that were deemed impossible to cure. We could form a stronger, better human race—“

“Isn’t that unethical?” A voice interrupted. Everyone’s head snapped towards the curly-haired girl that stood by Sarah Cameron’s side. JJ knew very little about her—considering this was honestly the first time he had seen her—and he wasn’t complaining…nor was he actually listening to what she was saying. “I mean, won’t this just introduce a future of designer babies and a superiority of the genetically modified over the natural?”

“I understand your concerns,” The tour guide—a young redhead who honestly didn’t look a day over twenty-two but then again, JJ guessed everyone around here was some sort of genius. “But I can assure you there are a number of protocols behind this research that would prevent such a thing from happening.”

“Can you really stop the rich from getting what they want?” Ironic considering she was a rich, uptown chick.

An awkward silence washed over the group before the teacher quickly cleared their throat and directed the tour guide to continue.

JJ—being the foolishly bored teenager he was—made his way over to the unknown girl, standing next to her as they looked at the spiders in the enclosure.

“Poor things.” She sighed sadly. JJ only raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it.

“You know,” He began, his voice smooth and suave—the usual JJ charm he used on girls. “I totally agree with you on all those…ethic…things…” He trailed off, risking a glance towards the girl who only narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really?” She questioned, nodding her head for him to continue.

“Yeah, I mean, save the animals, am I right?” He grinned, nervously scratching the nape of his neck. The girl seemed unamused.

“Uh huh, sure thing, buddy.” She stated before turning to catch up with the group. But JJ’s voice stopped her once again.

“How about I take you out some time? And then you can tell me all about all this ethic stuff.” He proposed, his usual charming smirk on his lips. He was a lady’s man, he knew he was gorgeous and JJ would be a fool if he didn’t use it to his advantage. One small date to charm her before JJ wiggled his way into her bed, then boom—they never have to speak to each other again. Plus, this girl may be one of Sarah Cameron’s wee minions, but JJ didn’t let class get in the way of his ‘love’ life. He just resents the lot of those uptown kids in every other aspect of his life. No harm in fraternizing with the enemy, right? What other people didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. It’s just a little bit of fun.

“Do you even know my name?” She asked him, her arms crossed over her chest. It took a lot of self-control for JJ not to follow the movement. He cleared his throat, leaning one hand against the enclosure.

“Uh…Samantha?”

“Nice try, asshole.” And with that, she turned around to join the group.

JJ stood there, a little dumbfounded by the encounter. He was taken aback not only by the fact she had just rejected him, but with the sass in which she did so. He would be lying if he didn’t say it was a little hot, but he expected it. Uptown kids always thought there were better, superior to the downtown kids.

But JJ didn’t wallow in his rejection for long when he felt a sharp, stinging pain on his hand. He glanced down, seeing a spider on the back of his hand and his instant reaction was to shake it off. “Little shit!” He hissed, looking down at the small bite mark on his skin.

“Hey, dude, you comin’?” He heard John B call out. He glanced around, unable to spot the spider. He shrugged, JJ has had worse than a small spider bite. He’ll survive.

“Yeah, I’m starving, let’s go!”

Little did JJ know that was his last day as a normal, hyperactive teen.

**********

“I’m telling you something is fucking wrong with me!”

Both boys looked at their blond friend with sceptic looks. It was Saturday morning and far too early to deal with JJ nonsense. Especially when they could barely understand what he was going on about. It was around 6am when John B and Pope received a very distressed call from JJ. Neither one was very sure for what reason, all they heard was ‘freaky’ and ‘fuck’ multiple times during the call. But he sounded like he was really going through something so they eventually went over—arriving at JJ’s place at 7:30am. JJ was too on edge to even try and call them out on it.

“Dude, breathe,” Pope muttered, watching JJ run holes in his carpet from how much he was pacing. “Calm down a little—“

“I can’t calm down, Pope!” JJ snapped, looking at his friends who seemed far too calm. “Like I don’t know if I am freaked out or pumped but just—“ He paused, seeing the look of confusion on his friends’ faces. He huffed and pulled his shirt off, looking at them expectedly. They didn’t react.

“JJ, did you really call us down here on SATURDAY MORNING because you have another birthmark that looks like George Clooney because I will literally murder you—“

“No, no!” JJ hissed before pointing down to his abs, and then his arms. Then he began flexing, yet he was met with blank expressions again.

“Dude, as much as I love staring at your abs, what the fuck are we meant to be looking at?” Pope asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“They are different!”

“They are?”

“They are!”

“Uh…how?”

JJ scoffed, as if it were obvious. “They are more defined!”

“…more defined?”

“Clearly!”

John B let out an unattractive snort, pushing his hair back as he leaned back against the wall, all his worry for his friend now gone. He was honestly concerned it was something important. “What’s next? Is your hair too perfect, J? Need a bag to cover how gorgeous you are?” Pope snickered along with him.

“I mean, I am having a good hair day…” JJ trailed off before shaking his head and turning to the two of them again. “But that isn’t all, okay? It gets freakier!”

Both boys looked at JJ with amusement from their spots on his bed.

JJ rolled his eyes before he stretched his hand out, his palm facing the ceiling with his two middle fingers pressed into his palm. Not even seconds later, a THWAP echoed through the now-silent bedroom.

Both teenagers looked down at the string of substance that just existed their friend’s wrist, completely shell-shocked. It was John B who spoke first, looking away from the white substance on JJ’s bed.

“Is that like…the same as…did you just—“ John B points down to his groin area, only for JJ to grimace.

“Dude, no! EW! I didn’t just jizz from my wrist!”

“It looks like you just did.”

Pope quickly kneeled down next to the bed, hesitantly reaching to touch the stuff, ignoring John B’s comments on how disgusting it was. “It feels like…silk,” He murmured in confusion before pulling his hand away, noticing how it stuck to his skin. “And it’s sticky.”

John B gagged in the back, but JJ ignored him. “It’s like glue, a really strong glue! And then after like twenty minutes, it disappears!” He told Pope as he reached for the scissors to help his sticky situation.

“How did you do that though?” Pope’s mind was reeling with the possibilities, the science behind the completely inhumane thing JJ had just done and he had witnessed with his very own eyes.

“I don’t fucking know!”

“Does it have anything to do with that weird-ass bump on your hand?” John B perked up, nodding towards JJ. All three boys’ gazes shifted to his left hand, where in fact there was a small red bump, no bigger than a grape at most.

“Nah, dude, that’s just from the spider bite yesterday.” JJ answered with a shrug. Pope chocked on the air, looking at JJ like he had three heads.

“I—you mean the fucking GENETICALLY MODIFIED SPIDERS FROM THE LAB?!” JJ winced, trying to shush Pope but there was no avail, this boy was going off on a rant. “Are you stupid? Why didn’t you tell anyone yesterday? JJ, those could’ve been poisonous or had long term effects or—“

“Made you some weird mutant with cool powers.” John B added. He quickly shut up when he received the ‘look’ from Pope.

“We have to tell someone at Cameron Industries.” Pope concluded. JJ was quick to pipe up, taking a few steps away from Pope on instinct.

“What, no way! They are gonna stick me under some fancy microscope or inject me with needles full of…stuff! I’m not going back into that geek galore!” JJ stated. Pope looked like he was ready to open his mouth, and start spouting out arguments as to why JJ should head over to the professional scientists over his weird, overnight mutation. But it was actually John B who came to a more mutual conclusion.

“Or we just do our own tests,” John B shrugged, both boys turning to look at him with fairly discombobulated expressions. “C’mon, Pope is basically a scientist and he is smart enough to figure out whatever the hell is going on with you!”

“I don’t have half the equipment they would have—“ Pope tried to argue.

“Look, we aren’t going to find out anything through a microscope. The best way is just go out there and test what he can do. How hard can it be?” John B grinned.

Pope wanted to argue that it was very hard. Though he had read countless papers on the genetically modified spiders, even he didn’t know enough to do a full conclusive examination on JJ and his new state. He didn’t have half the things he needed, but when he looked over at JJ and saw a much more relaxed—and hopeful—expression on his face from when he had suggested returning to the lab, Pope sighed and shook his head a little.

“Just so you both know, I am going to say, ‘I told you so’ when this goes downhill.”

**********

That is how JJ, Pope and John B found themselves standing on the roof of JJ’s apartment complex, the busy streets of New York oblivious to the scientific discovery that is happening above them. JJ couldn’t tear his eyes off the skyline, finding something about it much more relaxing that the potential of just what his new body could do. He was scared—no, scratch that—he was nervous, anxious if you will. JJ couldn’t lie that a part of him was excited. It felt surreal, like something out of one of those comics he used to nick from the uptown kids. Then again, JJ wasn’t very fond of the idea of being some new scientific discovery. It made him feel like he would end up like one of those poor frogs they had to dissect in biology—poor fuckers.

“Okay, so the spiders were made from three separate species to optimize their physical properties—being able to adapt to new environments, heightened senses to avoid predators, enhanced strength and speed, stronger material to create webs for larger prey—all that jazz. No research has been done on the psychological properties though.” Pope rambled, his hands moving wildly whilst both boys stared at him with clueless expressions.

“Which means?”

“JJ could have some really cool powers but could also be going totally insane,” Pope said with a sheepish shrug. “Like I’m talking full Tasmanian devil mode here—“

“Very reassuring, dude.” JJ stated bluntly. He took it all back, he wasn’t excited. He was terrified now. He glanced down at the small bite on his hand, which was slowly deflating as time passed. JJ wasn’t sure if he was relieved or worried that the second the bite disappeared, it could mean something really bad—like him turning into some massive humanoid arachnid that attacks the city. He shivered at the thought. “Right, let’s just get on with this.”

John B clapped a hand on his back, a small smile on his lips. “You’ll be fine, dude, alright? You’re in good hands.” He tried to reassure JJ. And JJ knew that everything Pope was saying was just to help him understand what was going on too, but he couldn’t help but think there was a small part of Pope that enjoyed using JJ as a lab rat. He was a scientist, could you really blame him?

“Yeah, I know.” He said with a curt nod.

“Let’s try the web again, see how far you can shoot it.” Pope piped up, moving to stand on the other side of JJ. “The average spider can shoot a web to about four feet, but these spiders have the DNA of the Darwin Bark Spiders which can shoot webs up to eighty-two feet. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say you could reach the same, maybe more.” He then gestured for JJ to try it out, pointing towards the building opposite then, which was only around eight feet away, at most.

JJ took a deep breath before extending his hand out, the THWAP sounding clear despite the ongoing traffic down below. Yet, the web barely shot out a couple of inches before landing on the edge of the roof with a disappointing splat.

“Well then…” John B trailed off, all three boys staring at the failed web shot.

“You clearly weren’t trying, just concentrate!” Pope said with a clap of his hands. He only received a blank stare from JJ.

“I was trying, dumbass! It’s harder than it looks. It…feels weird, man. Like a sneeze…from my wrist!” He huffed, but Pope only nudged his shoulder to try again.

JJ sighed and turned to face the opposite building again. He raised his arm, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tried to imagine the web shooting out and reaching the opposing roof. He tried to imagine more web fluid being shot out his wrist, he tried to imagine like he actually knew what he was doing. Not even a second later, the THWAP sound was heard and suddenly there was a white rope of silk extending from JJ’s hand onto the next roof over.

“Holy shit!”

JJ grabbed the web, giving the web a light tug. He was expecting for the web to break, for his hand to be covered in web fluid. But instead the web remained, strong and sturdy as though it was bolted onto the roof.

“This is crazy, dude.”

He snapped his hand back, watching the web breakaway from his palm and flop, hanging from the brick wall like a pathetic piece of string. “That was cool as fuck,” He murmured as he glanced down at his wrists in shock. He gently ran his thumb over his wrist, a delightful shiver running down his back. It caused him to smile a little, thinking about just how far he could shoot these webs.

“Dude, you could swing around like Tarzan now.” John B snickered. JJ gave him a deadpan look but he couldn’t help himself from glancing down at his wrists again.

“You think?”

“Only one way to find out.” John B grinned.

Pope’s eyes widened slightly as he quickly began to shake his head. “You don’t know if the web is strong enough to hold his weight, he could hurt himself or—“

“You calling me fat?” JJ gasped with a pout, a hand placed over his heart. “You offend me, Pope. Thought you were better than this.”

“If calling you fat will stop you from swinging off a building like an idiot then yes, I am calling you fat.” He hissed.

JJ grinned, his eyes quickly searching around before he noticed a large satellite pole sticking out from one of the nearby buildings. It was a bit further away, but JJ let the pride of his last success get to his head. “I can do it, bud, don’t worry about it.”

“That’s my boy!”

“Don’t encourage him!”

“He can do it!”

“How the fuck do you know that!?”

“Sixth sense, my dude.”

JJ blocked out the bickering, taking a couple of steps back from the edge of the roof. A running start never hurt anyone, right? He rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck from left to right. Never once did he let his gaze shift away from the satellite pole. He crouched down a little, already feeling the adrenaline build up in him. “Diver down, boys.” He grinned before he began sprinting to the edge of the building. As he reached the edge, he pushed himself off and extended his arm out, imagining the web wrapping around the pole and seconds later it did. He held the web tightly in his grip as he felt himself swinging towards the building. Whoops and cheers could be heard, though JJ wasn’t sure if they were coming from him or the boys back on the roof.

“JJ, THE WALL! LOOK OUT!”

But JJ was a little too pumped up to even comprehend what Pope was screaming until he noticed the brick wall getting closer. ‘Shit, shit, shit.’ The words echoed in his head and he tried to think of a way to slow himself down. But it was useless as he found himself colliding with the wall, his eyes clenched shut on impact.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned, his limbs sprawled out like a starfish. A part of him thought he was dead, that maybe he hit the wall way too hard, he had a lot of momentum after all. But the muffled screams coming from his friends was enough to tell him that he was very much alive. “I’m alive!” He yelled out, slowly beginning to blink his eyes open, finding himself face to face with a brick wall. “What the…” He trailed off when he glanced at his hands, finding them attached to the brick wall.

His heart was pounding when he looked down, seeing that he was attached to the wall, very far up from the ground, with nothing suspending him. His mind was reeling, almost as though he was waiting for himself to fall and his body to meet the ground. But it never happened.

“You’re like an actual fucking spider, dude!” He heard John B yell, as though he was right beside him, which caused him to wince a little. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing them still very far away on that roof.

JJ shook his head and glanced up, seeing the edge of the roof a couple of feet from where he was stuck on the wall. He took a deep breath before slowly removing one hand, and when he was sure he wasn’t going to fall, he moved it up higher. Slowly, JJ found himself scaling the side of the building, his heart beating wildly even as he pulled himself over the edge, both feet finding the solid ground of the roof. He turned back to look at his friends, both of whom looked shocked beyond belief.

“What the hell…” He could hear Pope whisper, which only caused JJ’s eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

“This is a lot more complicated than I thought.” He muttered to himself, only now realising that the bite mark on his hand was long gone.

**********

JJ winced a little as he heard the bell ring, indicating the end of this period and the start of lunch—his favourite subject. Yet, JJ wasn’t exactly jumping out of his seat as usual. It was now Monday and everyone was back at school. JJ, Pope and John B had spent the better use of the whole weekend to run around, using JJ like some lab rat and seeing just what he could and couldn’t do. And JJ was fucking exhausted. The amount of times he had face-planted into a wall was beyond funny and he had learnt the hard way that the more on edge he was, the more sensitive he was…well, to everything. The sound of the chairs screeching against the floor made him cringe, the bright LED lights made him want to cry and the feeling of his sweater against his skin was scratchy and uncomfortable. JJ sure as hell wasn’t hyped for his newly found powers if this is what the rest of his life is going to be like.

The blond sighed to himself as he shoved his stuff into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder and heading towards the cafeteria once he left the class. He kept his head down, finding the small shuffles of his vans against the floor were helping him from cussing out every single student that bumped into him, making him honestly want to scream and stay six feet away from everyone. He tried to reassure himself that he was half way through the day, that he only had a couple of hours left and then he could preferably go hide in a hole somewhere for the rest of his life. Okay, that is a little dramatic but a dark hole sounded great to JJ right now.

But here’s the thing, JJ is a Maybank. He has the good ol’ Maybank luck, which means even when he feels shit, the universe is out to make his life worse. And the universe sent that in the form of Rafe Cameron and his loyal little minions, Topper Thornton and Kelce Smith. Midtown High’s own version of the Plastics, some may say.

By some, I mean JJ. But hey, don’t judge. He was forced into watch Mean Girls by one of his flings awhile back and he won’t lie, the movie slaps. But that is besides the point.

“Oi, Maybank!”

JJ inwardly groaned at the sound of Rafe’s voice. He would much rather hear nails on a chalkboard than whatever Rafe had to say. JJ wouldn’t consider them bullies, they were simply the top tier of the uptown kids who had some sort of superiority complex. And JJ had no issue on challenging them, it was far too easy to wind up a bunch of rich kids who weren’t used to being called out on their bullshit. And it just stuck. They would say something stupid to try and provoke him, and most of the time JJ’s words were enough for them to leave him alone. He had the satisfaction of punching Rafe in the face a few times, but usually Pope and John B were quick to hold him back. After all, it would backfire on JJ if he got into trouble with an uptown kid.

“What do you want?” JJ huffed out, glancing up at the trio. The sight of the three of them almost brought a smile to his lips. Uptown kids and their need to follow trends, they wore the same outfit in different variations and it honestly made JJ want to laugh. The classic preppy look with their pastel sweaters and tennis shoes, it made JJ want to gag. But he contained his vomit as Rafe spoke up.

“Aw, c’mon, Maybank. That all you got today? A bit pathetic.” Rafe snickered, the other two laughing along with their leader. JJ rolled his eyes. The funniest thing about them was their outfits.

“As much as I’d love to talk to you little pastel powerpuff girls, I have much better things to do in my life,” JJ said with a sarcastic smile on his lips as he side-stepped the trio, attempting to make his way past them. He really didn’t have the patience to deal with them today. He had happily planned to steal food from Pope and take a nap for the hour. But the second he felt Rafe’s hand on his shoulder, he knew that wasn’t going to be happening.

“Watch your mouth, Maybank.” Rafe spat, his hand tightening on JJ’s shoulder. The act made him want to cringe away and rip off his skin. The feeling of his hand on his shoulder, his thumb brushing that little bit of skin near the neckline of his sweater, it made JJ want to gag. It felt horrible. He wanted that feeling gone.

“Piss off, Cameron.” He scoffed, harshly jerking his shoulder so Rafe’s hand would lose its grip but it only tightened. In an act of desperation, JJ did the only thing that seemed reasonable. He shoved Rafe away. Now normally, it would be enough to have Rafe stumble a few steps so JJ can make a quick exit. But JJ just so happened to have forgotten that this wasn’t like every other normal time. He wasn’t normal anymore. So, his shove was much more than a wee push, it was more like completely winding Rafe. JJ couldn’t help but cringe when he heard the sound of Rafe’s body colliding with the lockers before he slumped to the ground, a dent now evident in the lockers from the collision. Topper and Kelce looked at JJ with mixed looks of confusion and fear before rushing to their friend’s aid.

“Oh my god, Rafe!”

JJ’s head snapped to the end of the hallway where he could see Sarah Cameron, but she wasn’t alone. Beside her was the curly haired girl from the trip. His eyes widened a little when his gaze met hers, but he was only met with a glare from the mysterious beauty.

“What’s your problem?” She hissed at JJ as the two girls got closer, now seeing the full effect of what JJ had done. JJ gulped a little, his fingers tapping the side of his legs as he tried to think this through. What could he say, ‘oh sorry, kinda lost control of my new powers, I’ll be a little more careful next time’. Yeah, that wasn’t going to work.

“He started it!” JJ blurted out, only to mentally smack himself at how childish he sounded. “I barely touched him, he was being dramatic!” He added but the looks of uncertainty didn’t reassure him that they bought it. He was in the lion’s den here, a downtown kid surrounded by the privileged. He was never going to win. So, he did the only sane thing any downtown kid would do. He got out of there as quick as he could.

“He could be concussed!” Sarah Cameron spoke up for the first time, a frown on her face as she met JJ’s gaze. He could almost feel the judgement oozing from her.

“Maybe he will finally have some brain cells knocked into him!” And with that, JJ ran out of that hallway and didn’t stop running until he was far away from the school.

**********

“I’m sorry what?”

Following the fiasco on Monday, JJ’s week hadn’t been much better. Most of it was spent avoiding the uptown crew whilst simultaneously keeping a low profile, which is very hard for someone like JJ. He was used to being the class clown, milking any attention he got. Now he felt like he was under house arrest or something, trapped to keep to himself and work out what the hell was happening to him. But true to their commitment of being his best friends, John B and Pope were right there beside him. It had been a long and stressful week but they made it through. It was a little exhausting on them but they had each other to lean on. JJ was just glad he wasn’t alone.

But now, sat in Pope’s bedroom on the Saturday night, looking between the two boys with a very concerned look, JJ wasn’t sure his weekend was going to be any more relaxing. He knew the three of them combined weren’t the best combinations. They probably shared a brain cell between them and even then, it mostly resided with Pope and his weird, random facts. They had come up with some really strange, out-there ideas before—like the time they tried to give John B a perm with household products or when they convinced themselves they could do a road trip in John B’s crappy van. But this was the icing on the cake. This was enough for JJ to confirm that his friends had completely lost their mind.

“Think about it!” John B continued, practically rolling on the balls of his feet in excitement. JJ raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt him. To be honest, JJ wasn’t even sure where to start with how bad of an idea this was. “You have these super cool powers that are totally useless to everyday life, so why not put them to use? You could be like—the next Batman or something!”

“Batman was a rich dude who made gadgets. He doesn’t even have any powers. How the hell would I be like Batman?”

“Okay, bad example,” Pope piped up. “But just think about it. You could make a difference, be a hero!”

“A really badass superhero!” John B added.

JJ looked at them with a frown on his face. This now just seemed like a deranged joke. He was waiting for them to laugh, to say it was just a silly joke and move on with their usual weekend plans. But they didn’t. They continued.

“I mean, we could be a team! The three of us! You’ll go out and do all the crime fighting, Pope can make crazy gadgets and do all the…tech stuff and I can be your guy in the chair, you know?”

“My guy in the chair?”

“Yeah, you know, the guy in the headset…surrounded by screens…telling you where to go when you need extra help and stuff.”

“What?”

“Like Pope would set it up, but I would be the mastermind behind it! Like you’re stuck in a building and can’t find a way out, I would help you find a route. Your guy in the chair!”

JJ only shook his head, pressing his fingers to his temples to try and not completely lose his temper.

“And like every superhero ever, you’ll need a suit. So, I went looking through some stuff and I found my mum’s sewing machine,” Pope fumbled around in his pocket before he pulled out a small bunch of red fabric. He threw it to JJ, which he easily caught. JJ then realised it was like a ski mask, with two small holes for his eyes. “It’s not much but we can work on it, keep your identity secret and everything.”

“Oh, and you’ll need a badass name! I was thinking like Night Monkey, or—“

“—Spiderling!” Pope interrupted with a grin, clearly proud of it. But JJ had enough.

“Can the both of you just shut up!” He snapped, both boys instantly quieting down, looking at JJ with concerned looks. “Okay, are you out of your mind? Me? A superhero? Hate to fucking break it to you but I am not the superhero type guy, alright? I’m not your friendly neighbourhood nice guy helping old ladies cross the street or getting cats out of the tree! I could give zero fucks about the law cause all its there for is rich idiots to manipulate and use to ruin lives of people like us!” JJ cried out to them, letting go of any hope he had on trying to keep his cool.

“People like us don’t become heroes, alright? We are usually the ones that get locked up. And knowing my luck, I will be thrown straight into some loony house, in a straitjacket because of these powers! You guys have to be absolute fools if you think any of this would work.” JJ huffed as he stood up, shoving the mask into his pocket before making his way to the door. “I don’t care about other people, alright? I care about you guys, my mum and most importantly, myself. Why the hell should I risk my life for a world that won’t appreciate it anyways.” Both boys stood there stunned, looking at JJ with wide eyes and parted lips.

“JJ—“

“No, okay? Superheroes are meant for comic books and movies, not real life, alright? Grow up.” And with that, JJ slammed the door as he left the apartment.

JJ scoffed, muttering to himself as he walked through the dark streets of New York, deciding to take the longer route back home. He needed the time to clear his head, grasp his thoughts. He didn’t know what the boys were thinking, he was definitely not fit to be a hero. Were they out of their minds? Give a guy some abnormal powers and suddenly he should be putting on a cape and preaching morals. That wasn’t JJ, that would never be JJ. He was selfish, arrogant at times and beyond prideful. But he was aware. He knew what he was and he knew he didn’t have what it took to be a hero. Pope and John B needed to stop being ignorant and see that.

He rolled his eyes at the thought and continued his way back to his building complex, hands shoved in his pockets with his right-hand clenching around the fabric of the mask. Small puffs escaped his lips as JJ started regretting taking the long way home. It was October and winter was promising to come early, JJ could tell that much by the stinging cold against his cheeks. The cold was just the cherry on top of his bitter mood.

Yet, as JJ continued to make his way home, he could hear the sound of people talking, causing a frown to form on his face. JJ had walked this way many times, especially during the night, and the chance of passing someone down these streets were fairly rare. Maybe the odd one here or there, but a group of people? Definitely not common.

At first, he ignored it. He had gotten used to the heightened senses over the week, being able to hear things from a distance even when he didn’t try. For all he knew, he could be hearing the muttering of some people a few blocks over. So, he ignored it and carried on walking. But then it started getting louder and clearer. JJ felt his whole body go on alert, the hair on his arm standing up, like his body knew something was off. He could feel it in his gut, a horrible realisation that this wasn’t going to be his usual walk home.

It wasn’t until when JJ turned the corner that he realised just what he had walked into. There stood around five men, all wearing masks that covered the lower half of their faces. They were dressed in all black, probably to draw less attention to themselves, but JJ could see the glint of guns in the light of the lampposts shining down on the street. They stood outside a building, three of them seeming to try and block the view of the other two. It was then when JJ’s brain actually caught up with what he was seeing and realised what the building was. A bank. These guys were trying to rob a bank.

Well shit.

The way JJ saw it, he had two options here. He could turn around, pretend he didn’t see anything and let them get on with what they were doing. Chances were they would either get caught by the police or he would see that the bank had been successfully robbed tomorrow morning on the news. Or JJ could do something about it. He quickly grabbed his phone from his pocket, only to see that it was dead. Of course, it was the good ol’ Maybank luck. He shoved it back into his pocket and looked towards the five men.

Then an idea popped into his head. A stupid, insane idea that was nothing short of self-deprecating and downright dumb. It was short of one of the worst ideas he had ever had. JJ had done a lot of weird stuff in his life but this definitely tops it all. And the worst part was that he was going through with it, because as much as he hated it, it was his only choice right now.

“I’m gonna regret this.” JJ huffed to himself as he snatched the mask out of his pocket and pulled it down over his face, adjusting it so he could see through the small holes Pope had made. He let out a breath, shaking his shoulders a little as he tried to pump himself up, get his adrenaline going.

“You got this, it’s not like they have guns or anything,” JJ muttered to himself as he placed his hands on the wall of the building across from the bank, the one he was currently hiding around so the bank robbers wouldn’t see him, before he began to scale the building. I mean, who would expect the enemy coming from above, right?

He stopped around half way up the building, thanks to the heightened senses he was able to still see the criminals clearly. He watched them closely, seeing only the three men that were on lookout where the one with guns. “Oh, let’s hope this works.” He whispered to himself before extending his arm out.

“What the fuck!” One of them called out as his gun was snatched from his hands in the blink of an eye, his two friends following a similar reaction. JJ wasn’t even thinking about where he was throwing the guns, just as long as they were nowhere near these dudes when he confronted them.

He watched them freak out, yelling at each other as they looked around for the culprit to their missing guns. He heard the half-ass threats they used and tried not to snort before he shot a web to one of the lampposts nearby and swung down, landing gracefully at the top of the lamppost.

“Guys, I hate to break it to you but someone lied, bank doesn’t open until tomorrow morning.” JJ called out to them, giving a small shrug. All five heads snapped up to look at him, and the glares he was receiving was enough to tell him that these guys weren’t big jokesters.

“Piss off, kid, this is none of your business.” One of them replied in a blunt, scruffy voice. It honestly made JJ cringe a little.

“You see,” JJ sighed. “I’ve made it my business so…” He trailed off before snapping his wrist, a web shooting out to stick to the head of the closest criminal and with a firm tug, his head hit the pole before he slumped to the ground.

One of the men growled at JJ, clearly not happy about some weird kid interrupting their wee heist. “You had your warning, kid. Come down and play with the adults.” He taunted before JJ noticed the glimmer of something in the light. A knife. Of-fucking-course the gun wasn’t the only weapon they had on them.

“That’s a bit unfair, isn’t it?” He commented, shooting a web to wrap around the criminal’s wrist, prepared to pull it out of his grasp, only for the robber to tug the web instead, sending JJ flying off the lamppost and falling on his ass to the ground. “Fuck!” He hissed as he quickly jumped to his feet.

“Life is unfair,” The criminal muttered before reaching to punch JJ but he easily dodged it. The speed and agility with which he moved with clearly distracting the criminal long enough for JJ to kick him hard enough that sent him stumbling back into the wall. JJ barely had time to process it before he snapped his hand to the left, stopping a fist that was inches away from his face.

“Nice try, asshole.” He huffed before twisting the criminal’s arm before sending a swift punch to his jaw. There was a satisfying pop sound that told JJ he would be preoccupied for at least a couple of minutes.

He then noticed two of the criminals trying to corner him, and he couldn’t help but smirk a little under the mask at just how cliché it seemed. In seconds, JJ has webs shooting out each wrist, attaching to the chests of each men, before yanking the two towards each other. Groans echoed through the empty street as both men collided with each other.

JJ’s head snapped to the side when he heard an angry battle call as he saw the man with the now dislocated jaw running towards him. JJ crouched down a little before he began running towards the criminal, his arms hooking around his knees. He kept running forwards until JJ felt glass smash around him and the two of them fell through. He quickly got up, wincing at the window he had just broken before turning to the criminal and giving him a good smack in the face—he definitely wasn’t holding back with his strength on that one.

JJ began to work fast, not knowing how long each of the criminals would stay dazed and unconscious for. In no time, he had them piled together, a healthy amount of web fluid keeping them tied together. They wouldn’t be going anywhere—at least for twenty minutes. But it was just JJ’s luck that he didn’t have to worry about that time limit because not even seconds after he finished, he heard the sirens and saw the blue lights flashing down the streets.

Police cars began to surround the bank, creating a semi-circle to prevent any possible escape. Officers began to exit their vehicles, guns set and loaded and now aimed towards JJ. “This is NYPD, keep your hands where we can see them!” One officer called out.

“Shit,” JJ muttered to himself as he raised his hands in the air, watching as officers slowly approached the crime scene.

He watched as a look of confusion washed over their faces as they took in the scene: the smashed window, the five tied up men, the weird silky rope that was binding them together and of course, JJ in his crappy mask.

He watched as they evaluated the situation. Watched as they tried to piece it all together before one officer—the badge telling JJ her name was Captain Peterkin—stopped in front of JJ with raised eyebrows. “Did you do this?”

“Sure did, ma’am.”

“Why?” Another officer perked up, JJ could see his badge said Officer Shoupe.

“They were robbing a bank, what did you want me to do? Sit around making daisy chains until you showed up?” JJ immediately defended, glaring as best as he could with the mask on his face.

Peterkin smiled a little before she cleared her throat, JJ’s attention shifting to her. “Then I guess we owe you a great deal of thanks for your work.”

“All in a day’s work, can I leave now? I’m sure the security cameras will give you all the answers you need.” JJ stated as he already began to take a few steps away from the crime scene, walking backwards.

“Can we at least know your name?” Peterkin asked.

JJ looked down at his wrists before he snapped them up, watching as the web attached to nearby building. He looked at Peterkin and couldn’t help grin under his mask as he answered her question before tugging on the web and swinging away into the night.

“Call me Spider-Man.”

Taglist: @alphinias @popcornhook @loveyatopluto @teamnick @peanutbelley @iccyyyybitch @jiara-maybank @donkey-is-my-spirit-animal @carissarose16 @unspokenfaith @largedenominationsplease @jiaaras @homebody-nobody @smileymikey @hvitstark @shaymq7 @hmspogue @falseungodlyhours @aarchiess @rcsales @raeoffuckingsunshine @jjskiaras @parker-holland-osterfield @thesadprose

#jiara #outer banks #obx #jj maybank #kiara carrera #jj maybank x kiara carrera #outer banks fanfiction #jiara fanfiction #obx fic #my fic #spiderman au #marvel #tale of a slightly unstable teen hero

47 notes · View notes

maria-scribbles · 4 years

Text

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part three

summary: while mother nature isn’t very kind to the obx, jj’s dad is even worse to him. sailor sees the aftermath, relives a day that changed her life forever, and realizes she’d be down with murder if she could get away with it. between nutella sandwiches, story time, and a shared bed, an unspoken thing slowly starts to become a little more real.

word count: 6.9k+ (oops 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings: abuse/neglect, blood, mentions of parental abandonment/gambling addiction, swearing, whump, hurt/comfort, fluff, blatant references to hocus pocus, the little mermaid, percy jackson and the olympians, and mean girls (and a teeny, subtle reference to stranger things, see if y’all can catch it! 😉)

a/n: i was so excited to write this part, not gonna lie (if you couldn’t tell, just look at that word count). hurt/comfort is my shittt and i’m a pretty big slut for physical comfort/touches so i kinda went ham with it lol. i’m also very happy to finally introduce everyone to peyton, who’s a character i really love and enjoy writing, especially her relationship with her gf alison. both of them will get some time to shine in this part, peyton in the present and alison in the past! as usual, this is unbetaed so all mistakes belong to me. enjoy!

gif credit to @sci-fi

~Masterlist~

part one | part two | part four | playlist

part three: storm surge

It rains the entire week. Scratch that -it storms: the whole island buffeted by howling winds and blanketed by a thick layer of dark and angry clouds that make life just shy of miserable. For someone who spends 99% of her time outside like Sailor, miserable doesn’t begin to cover it. And to think, it’s only the beginning of hurricane season.

The redhead props her chin in one tan hand as she leans against the cool marble counter of The Butterscotch Bonnet Ice Cream Parlor, watching the rain pound against the shop’s bay windows. Across the street she can just make out the rough, gray surf of the Atlantic through a tiny gap in between two buildings and she sighs wistfully, thinking about all the beautiful shells getting tossed onto the beach by the waves. She’s half tempted to just throw off her apron, hop the counter, and make a break for the sand, storm be damned.

She’s almost positive she wouldn’t even be missed. There isn’t a customer in sight and there hasn’t been one since she started her shift three hours ago. Peyton was still in the back kitchen, messing around with whatever convoluted ice cream flavor she thought up for this week; her boss definitely has a knack for concocting weird combinations that somehow work together, at least most of the time. Sailor thinks back to a few weeks ago when they debuted that delicious blackberry balsamic that sold out every day without fail, then followed it with a cilantro lime that was hit-or-miss (a definite miss in her opinion, as cilantro just tastes like soap to her; Peyton had just smiled her infectious smile, shrugged her tiny shoulders, and said, “Can’t win ‘em all, I guess.”) This week’s flavor involves mascarpone and peaches and she can’t wait to steal a sample because if the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen is any indication, it’s gonna be bomb, even though it probably won’t upset the shop’s namesake flavor from the top of her list.

Thinking about ice cream makes her kind of hungry, on top of the fact that she has a terrible habit of eating when she’s bored, so she dishes out a small scoop of Butterscotch Bonnet and grabs a spoon before leaning back against the counter, digging through the cup to find the best part: salted caramel-filled chocolate sea shells, made in house. The days Sailor gets to help make them are her favorite days to come to work, when she and Peyton commandeer the kitchen and have the time of their lives, blasting music and dancing as they slave away. Of course, the little bag of chocolates she gets to take home is a pretty big plus, too.

“That’s coming out of your paycheck, Sail.”

Spoon halfway to her mouth, she sheepishly glances up from her snack as Peyton emerges from the kitchen, fondly shaking her head and sending her inky black braids dancing across her shoulders.

“What am I gonna do with you?” She continues with a wink before starting to make herself a milkshake, dropping two scoops of their tiramisu flavor into a malt cup.

“Sorry, you know I can’t help myself!” Sailor knows the other girl was joking but she apologizes anyway and opens the cabinet to grab a cup and straw for her, setting them on the counter beside the old-fashioned milkshake machine. As far as bosses go, Peyton is one of the all-around best to have and the redhead loves working at her shop. While the Buckleys are rich as shit and total kooks, the family’s youngest daughter is down to earth, kind, and prefers to work hard for what she wants instead of flaunting her parents’ wealth and The Butterscotch Bonnet is proof that, despite her last name and penchant for the finer things, she’s a pogue at heart. It’s no wonder Alison’s head over heels for her.

“I also know you’re bored as shit.” Peyton calls over the sound of the blender, sending a knowing smirk toward the younger girl, who rolls her eyes and shovels another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth as she replies, “Obviously. This weather fucking sucks.”

A loud clap of thunder seems to shake the very glass in the windows and she gestures toward the storm outside, her point proven. Peyton glances around the deserted shop, still bright and cheery despite its lack of movement and life, then back to the relentless downpour, before shrugging and turning back to finish blending her milkshake. “Wanna go home early?”

“Seriously?”

“Why not? You’ve already cleaned this whole place from top to bottom and I don’t think we’re gonna be getting customers any time soon.” Ignoring the paper cup, she plops the straw straight into her drink and takes a big sip, then nods in satisfaction before adding a huge swirl of whipped cream on top.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?” Sailor asks, smiling excitedly as she grabs her bag from under the counter and tosses her empty cup into the trash.

“Only every day,” the older girl replies cheekily, smiling as she’s pulled into a one-armed hug of thanks by her employee.

“Well, you’re gonna hear it again: you’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peyton pats the redhead’s shoulder with one deep brown hand and then gently pushes her toward the kitchen. “Now get out of here, brat. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sailor throws a peace sign over her shoulder as she heads out the door, cackling at her boss’s offended call of “don’t call me ma’am!” After clocking out, she fishes her keys out of her bag and dashes through the downpour to her beat-up clunker of a truck. A hand-me-down from Alison, Flounder’s nothing to look at with all the dents and chips in his blue paint, but he gets her where she needs to go and has room for surfboards in the back and two other pogues up front on the bench seat -and the other two unlucky ones riding in the bed, hiding under the boards- so she’s not complaining, even though she wishes his radio worked more than half the time.

(Two reasons why John B’s almost always the group chauffeur: the fact that he can legally drive all five of them around without breaking the law -not that they’ve ever gotten caught in Sailor’s truck but anyone with a brain knows that where one pogue goes, the other four aren’t far behind- and good music flowing from a perfectly working stereo.)

Unfortunately, it’s on the fritz today so her drive home is spent listening to the sounds of Flounder’s windshield wipers and the pounding of rain against his roof. She heads inland from the beach, away from Peyton’s shop in the outskirts of affluent Figure 8 and its kook mansions to the more homey, laid-back Cut, passing by the turnoff to the Chateau and through the woods before pulling into the empty driveway of her tiny house. The fact that her mother’s car is no where to be found doesn’t surprise her in the slightest. Waiting for her on the porch is Binx, the stray black cat she’s taken to feeding and more or less adopted, stretching on the blanket she left out for him.

“Hey, handsome,” The redhead says, kneeling down to give him a loving scratch behind the ears; he meows in response and rubs his fuzzy face against her ankles, weaving between her legs as she slides her key into the lock. “Come on in.”

The front door closes behind them with a hollow bang that echoes through the empty house like the thunder outside. Sailor hangs up her keys and follows Binx down the hall toward her room, ignoring the closed door that leads to her mom’s room and a bed that she assumes hasn’t been slept in in months. Not that she would know: she’s made it a habit to spend as few nights as possible alone in the house, instead crashing at the Chateau or Kiara’s place and hoping her mom’s comfortable in her makeshift room at The Sandbar where Carmen doesn’t have to deal with the teenager she’s supposed to be caring for (Sailor’s always been an independent girl and has no trouble getting by alone but fuck, that doesn’t mean she wants to.).

Her father’s green eyes, the same color as her own, stare back at her from a picture hanging on the wall of a better time, when everything was alright and her family wasn’t so broken; the three of them on the beach with a twelve year old Sailor in the middle and surfboards in hand. Carmen looks like the mother she remembers and misses so bad it hurts, and while Ryan wasn’t always the most caring of fathers and only acted like a dad when it was convenient, she’d still do anything to have him back, terrible parenting skills and all. She turns away from the picture and the complicated mess her heart becomes when she thinks about him, continuing down the hall to her room.

Complicated doesn’t even begin to cover her feelings about her dad, though. She’s always believed she was an afterthought to him, never first on his list but still good enough to tag along for company when he was doing something he wanted to do. He was a man who liked the idea of having a kid but never wanted to actually step up and parent when things weren’t all fun and games, instead deciding to take off to Atlantic City for a month or two at a time to gamble away whatever money they earned at the surf shop.

She wants to hate him. She should loathe him and in a way, she does. She hates the way he still makes her feel like everything’s her fault, even when he’s not around. She hates the person her mother becomes when he disappears, someone distant and cold and so unlike the good, caring mother Sailor remembers. She hates that home doesn’t feel like home anymore and it’s all his fault, and she hates that despite everything he’s put her through, all the hurt he’s caused, she still can’t find it in her big, bleeding heart to truly detest her father. After all, he could’ve been worse. So, so much worse.

The only place she can get away from everything is her room, her own little sanctuary from the cold emptiness of the rest of the house and constant reminders of Ryan’s absence. It’s warm and bright, the walls painted a sunny yellow that reminds her of lazy days relaxing on the beach. Her first surfboard hangs on the wall above her bed, tucked away in a corner, doubling as a shelf for her massive shell collection while pictures of her and her friends dangle underneath, pinned to a long piece of twine. Her current boards stand propped in another corner, leaning against a wall plastered with all types of movie and music posters. Through the windows covered with curtains as light as sea foam, the rain steadily pours but in here, she’s safe. In here, she can breathe.

Sailor strips off her uniform, tossing it along with her bag onto the chair by the door and slips out of her worn red high-tops before pulling on a pair of sleep shorts and the first long-sleeve shirt her fingers find in the closet, then flops onto her bed and pulls the soft blue blanket around her shoulders, reading glasses and well-loved copy of The Lightning Thief in hand while Binx curls up at her feet. Every summer without fail she rereads the series (why, she’s not exactly sure: maybe its nostalgia, maybe its because she lowkey relates to water-loving, steadfastly loyal Percy) and she’s fallen behind this year, so she fully intends on reading as much as she can tonight before bed. The storm provides perfect background noise and soon she’s five chapters in before a sudden loud knock on her window causes her head to snap up in alarm.

Oh no. Without bothering to save her place, she tosses the book and her glasses aside and scrambles from the bed to the window, tearing open the curtains to reveal a sight she always dreads seeing. Her best friend stands outside in the rain, soaked to the bone, hand pressed against his side, and the sight of bright red blood trailing down his face and staining the collar of his gray shirt makes her heart drop to her stomach. Wordlessly, she opens the window and helps him climb inside before closing it firmly and drawing the curtains, once again blocking the world from her -now their- sanctuary, then grabs her blanket from the bed and wraps it tightly around JJ’s shaking shoulders after he kicks off his sodden boots.

Her hand slowly moves to cup his face and her heart breaks a little more when he tenses, blue eyes carefully tracking its movement until he seems to remember who it belongs to and lets himself lean into her touch, cheek resting against her palm. Sailor runs her thumb under his split lip and and wipes at the crimson staining his tan skin, her mouth curving into a small frown when she only succeeds in smearing it further.

“Come on,” She breaks the silence with her gentle voice, barely above a whisper, and reaches her other hand out to take his, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

His fingers hold so, so tight as she leads him down the hall to the bathroom and she’s so laser-focused on the way they tremble against hers that she doesn’t notice the blood left behind on the handle when she opens the door. After flicking on the light she turns to face him and gently pushes the blanket from his shoulders with her free hand, letting it fall to the floor in a damp heap, then blindly reaches behind her to turn on the shower, cranking the heat as high as it’ll go.

“Sorry about your blanket.” JJ says at last, his voice quiet, and Sailor shakes her head, running her thumb in circles on the back of his cold hand.

“I don’t care about that, J.” She replies just as quiet and before she can stop herself, before she can think about what exactly she’s about to admit, she adds, “I care about you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a barely-there smile and while it may be tiny, it’s a smile nonetheless and she feels the tight knot in her chest begin to loosen as she lets go of his hand, reaching for the hem of his shirt. “Can you lift your arms for me?”

He does as she asks but his pained wince doesn’t go unnoticed by the redhead when she pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on top of the discarded blanket, and her jaw clenches at the sight of deep purple bruises in the shape of his father’s fists marring the skin over his ribs.

“Let me know if this hurts.” Oh so carefully she reaches out with one hand and gently touches the darkest mark, where she’d seen him clutching at outside her window, her fingers delicately feeling for any damages.

“A little.” He admits, shaky breath warm against her forehead and she does her best to keep her hand steady as she checks over the rest of him, then feathers her fingers back over that first bruise.

“It doesn’t feel like anything’s broken or cracked, so that’s good.” She says, allowing her hand to linger for a second before letting it fall from his side. “A rib or two might be a little bruised, though, so we’ll put some ice on them later, just in case. Sound good?”

JJ nods and watches her with those ocean blue eyes as she pulls her own shirt over her head, leaving her in a plain black cami and shorts, before grabbing his hand once again and pulling him into the shower with her. The water’s just a tad too hot and it instantly starts turning her skin red but Sailor doesn��t mind, instead choosing to embrace the heat and the way it burns everything away, leaving behind brand new skin that’s ready for a new day, new adventures. She reaches up and gingerly wipes the blood from her best friend’s face; in a mirror of earlier, he leans his cheek into her palm, eyes slowly closing while both arms wrap around her waist and pull her close.

“Sail,” He whispers her nickname into the humid air between them and she barely registers the tremble in his voice before his knees buckle, sinking them both to the shower floor until they’re face to face, sitting in between each other’s legs. He clings to her, arms even tighter around her waist and face buried against her neck, and she feels the shake of his shoulders when she winds her own arms around them. One hand moves to steadily run through wet blond hair, over and over, comforting in the best way she knows how, the fingers of her other hand tracing circles on the bare skin of his back as water continues to rain down on them like the downpour outside.

She’s eerily reminded of another time they sat like this, sobbing in each other’s arms five years ago, the first time she saw just how cruel his father could be, the first time she realized she’d do absolutely everything and anything to keep him safe, and it was both one of the best and worst days of her life.

Eleven year old Sailor shoved her math textbook into her cluttered locker and kicked it shut with a scowl. She hated math, her math teacher, and especially whoever made her schedule- who in their right mind would put math in eighth-period? She swung her backpack onto her shoulder and grunted softly at the extra weight it carried. JJ hadn’t come to school that day and Sailor had volunteered to take his missed work to him; it made sense, considering she lived closest out of the pogues and it’d make her feel better if she got to check on him herself -there was a reason the rest of the group called her the mom friend, after all.

She’d already collected assignments from the classes he shared with Pope and Kiara as well as herself, so now she was just waiting for John B to drop off his own. As if summoned by her thoughts, the brunet boy rounded the corner and waved, weaving his way to her through their fellow middle-schoolers. “Sorry, you know how Mr. Jefferson likes to go on and on and on...” He said, pulling some papers from his backpack and handing them to the redhead. “Do you remember where J’s house is?”

Sailor rolled her eyes and carefully slid the homework into her own bag. “Considering I live, like, five streets away, I sure hope so.” She fired back, ignoring his cackle of laughter as they joined the rush of students, excited for the weekend, flooding out through the double doors of Kildare County Middle School. She lingered by her friend as he unlocked his bike from the rack and then climbed on, asking, “You’re helping out at the shop on Saturday, right?”

She nodded, scanning the sea of waiting cars and waving when she spotted her ride. “Yeah, why?”

“My dad and I are gonna hang out at the beach that day so we’ll stop by and say hi.” With a casual salute in her direction he slowly started pedaling down the road, calling back over his shoulder, “Tell JJ he can come too if he’s feeling better!”

“Tell him yourself!” She yelled after his retreating back, not surprised in the slightest when he didn’t turn around and disappeared into the trees. Alison’s beat up blue truck pulled up to the curb seconds later and the older redhead leaned out the open window, a shit-eating grin on her face as she joked, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Sailor laughed and climbed into the passenger seat, dropping her backpack on the floor with a loud thump. Alison winced at the sound, raising her eyebrow as she waited for the younger girl to put her seatbelt on. “What the hell do you have in there, rocks?”

“One of my friends missed school today so I have his homework. Do you mind driving by so I can drop it off? He only lives a few streets away.”

“Sure,” Alison replied, flicking on her turn signal and merging into the stream of cars leaving the school’s parking lot. “So who skipped: Smarty Pants, Bandana Boy, or Surfer Bro?”

The eleven year old giggled at the nicknames -she’d never admit it, but they were honestly pretty accurate- and replied, “Surfer Bro. And his name is JJ, Ali.”

“Rightttt, JJ. What do you think it stands for, huh? Jesse James? John Jacob?”

“Oh my Godddddd!”

The high school senior continued to come up with names, each more ridiculous than the last until Sailor exclaimed “There!” and directed her to park near a small, run-down house on a quiet road. She pulled a folder from her backpack and was out the door before the older girl could blink, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be right back!”

The redhead slammed the truck door behind her and made her way toward the porch and what she assumed was the front door; she’d never been inside JJ’s house but he always came out to meet them through there so she figured it was a safe bet. The smile fell from her face, ears registering the sound of horrible, angry yelling just as she brought her fist down to knock and she anxiously fidgeted back and forth on the step, her heart starting to beat fast in her chest. What the hell was going on?

"Fucking hell!” An enraged shout came clear as day from inside and as she heard the person’s stomping approach, something in her, a feeling, urged her to hide the folder in her hand behind her back. She jumped in surprise when the door was suddenly ripped open, revealing a fuming, red-faced man who glared down at her with heavily lidded eyes and one hand clenched in a fist at his side, the other holding the threshold in a white-knuckled grip. “What the hell do you want?”

“H-hi, I’m Sailor, one of JJ’s friends? He wasn’t at school today so I came by to check on him.” She said, proud of herself for keeping most of the tremble out of her voice while she studiously avoided his cruel gaze, instead subtly trying to peer behind him and hopefully catch a glimpse of her friend. The man, who she realized with sheer horror had to be JJ’s dad, was absolutely terrifying, with breath reeking of booze and mouth curled into a vicious snarl as he moved to block her view into the house and snapped, “Kid’s fine. Now get the fuck outta here.”

“Can I just see-”

She was cut off when he slammed the door in her face with the hand that had been by his side and her eyes widened, stomach sinking with dread as she caught sight of the splotch of bright crimson left behind on the wood. Oh, God. This could not be happening. She remembered John B’s warning about JJ’s dad, saying he wasn’t a very nice man when she became friends with them last year but she didn’t recall him ever saying anything about this and it hits her like a freight train: he probably didn’t know. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. If JB didn’t know then Pope and Kiara definitely didn’t and a sickening feeling started to churn her belly, both at the thought of JJ facing all of this by himself and the fact that she alone had the power to help.

Inside the house, she heard his dad resume his screaming, every other word accompanied by a sickening thumping noise she’d only heard in person once before, a few years ago on the beach with her parents when two drunk tourons started wailing on each other over a spilled beer: the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Sailor started to panic, both hands flying to cover her mouth in terror. Underneath the screaming and punching, she couldn’t hear anything, any cry or yelp or whimper from her friend and, mind racing with million terrible, awful thoughts, she turned and ran back to the truck, flinging open the door and scrambling inside to grab Alison’s arm, folder in her hands falling to the floor.

“Ali, please, we’ve got to help him-”

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” The older girl joked as she looked up from her phone, smile falling from her lips when she caught sight of the eleven year old’s pale face and wide eyes. She reached over and placed her hands on Sailor’s slight, trembling shoulders. “What’s going on?”

Her lip quivered terribly as she told Alison everything she saw and heard, watching her expression slowly twist into outright dismay, the fingers on her shoulders tightening their grip when she finished, “Ali, what’re we gonna do? We have to help him right now!”

“Fuck, okay, first off let’s calm down- don’t give me that look, kid! We can’t just burst in there like Wonder Woman or something, let me- oh, look!” Alison pointed through windshield, where JJ’s dad furiously stalked from the house to his truck, climbing inside and violently slamming the door before taking off in a cloud of dust. Sailor quickly ducked when he drove by and stayed down until the older redhead gave her the all clear, “He’s gone. That was perfect timing, huh?”

She didn’t reply or even wait for her to unbuckle her seatbelt, taking off at a sprint and bounding onto the porch in no time, furiously knocking against the door. “Hey, J, are you there? It’s Sailor.”

There was no reply and her heart dropped to her stomach. Alison joined her on the front step, her face blanching when her eyes landed on the blood stain on the corner of the door. One of her hands reached out to grab the handle while the other found Sailor’s smaller one and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” With no hesitation and the bravery Sailor wished she had, the eighteen year old pushed the door open and pulled them both into the dusky house. The younger redhead wrinkled her nose at the sight of beer cans and pill bottles littering a circle around the couch but she pressed on, calling his name as the girls moved room to room.

“Sail?” The sound of JJ’s pained voice coming from the room at the end of the hall made her heart skip a beat and she dropped Alison’s hand, running forward and bursting through the door in a rush, not even thinking about what state her friend might’ve been in. Feeling like she’d just been sucker punched right in the gut at the sight of him lying face down on the floor with a small puddle of blood forming under his mouth, she dropped to her knees beside him and delicately took his hand in both of hers, nearly crying in relief when his fingers gripped tight to her palm. Behind her, she heard Alison’s sharp intake of breath as she entered the room, darting over to kneel on JJ’s other side and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, and together they carefully helped him roll onto his back, then up into a sitting position with the older girl’s arm behind him as a brace.

Her jaw trembled as she tried and tried to say something, anything; her head was filled with so many questions -what happened, how could he do this, when did this start?- but the only thing she managed to ask was a simple, “Why?”

“It’s just what he does.” He replied with a shrug, wincing at the movement, “I’m sorry, Sail.”

“What the hell are you apologizing for?” She asked incredulously, then followed his finger as he pointed at a pile of jagged yellowish-brown pieces on the floor by his bed.

“He broke the shell you gave me.” He looked so upset, so distraught over the broken whelk and she felt her heart swell with waves of affection for her friend, who was more concerned about her broken gift than he was about himself.

“Hey,” She said softly, turning away from the mess to look him in the eye with a small smile, her hand reaching out on its own accord to brush a lock of fine blond hair away from a cut near his temple. “It’s just a shell, okay? I’ll find you another one.”

The sight of blood on his teeth when he returned her smile reminded her of the task at hand and she shook her head, wrapping her thin arm around his waist. “Let’s get you out of here. Think you can stand?” At his nod, both girls put one of his arms around their shoulders and slowly stood, shuffling out the door with all the grace and speed of an old man with two bad knees, but hey, they were moving and getting JJ out of that terrible place, so she’d go as slow as they needed to, even if her anxiety was getting worse and worse with each passing second they spent in the house.

After loading the kids onto the bench seat of the truck, Alison quickly drove them to the empty Flynn residence -Carmen and Ryan still working at the shop- and helped Sailor move JJ into the bathroom. “I’ll go grab you some towels and dry clothes, okay? I think some of your dad’s old stuff might fit him.” She said, watching as the young girl kneeled beside her friend and started untying his shoes.

The eleven year old nodded at her older friend and sent her a small smile. “Thanks, Ali.”

“No problem, kiddos.” With a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes she was gone, heading down the hall toward the laundry room.

Sailor reached over and turned the shower on as hot as possible. “Okay, um, take as long as you need, I guess. I’ll wait outside.” She jerked her thumb toward the hall but before she could even take a step, his hand darted out and grabbed her wrist.

“Stay.” It was more of a demand than a question and JJ seemed embarrassed to even be saying it, the uninjured parts of his face turning an endearing shade of pink. “Please?”

She just nodded and reached a leg out to gently kick the door shut, her mind racing. She stayed but what the hell should she do now, keep her back turned? Get in the shower with him? From the way he was fidgeting back and forth and avoiding her eyes, he was probably thinking the same thing.

“Oh, come on.” She finally said after a minute or two of decidedly not looking at each other and kicked off her sandals, darting forward on impulse to grab his hand and pull them both under the spray. The water uncomfortably soaked into their clothes and made their movements sluggish as they clumsily shuffled around -stepping on each other’s toes and mumbling identical apologies- before finding a position that was only a little bit awkward in the confined space, his arms on either side of her waist and bracing against the wall, her hands tentatively resting on his shoulders.

“This okay?” She asked, feeling her cheeks reddening from more than just the steam curling around them and frizzing her hair, and JJ nodded, swallowing thickly and blinking away a droplet of red-tinged condensation that slid down his forehead. Her hand, moving on its own accord, slowly reached for his face until her palm gently came to rest against his flushed cheek, the tip of her pointer finger just brushing a small cut that sliced through one eyebrow.

“How...” Sailor shook her head, taking a deep breath before finally asking the question that’d been on her mind since this whole thing started, “How long has this been happening?”

Once again he avoided her wide-eyed gaze, eyelids fluttering shut as he answered hesitantly, quietly, “I...I don’t remember a time when it didn’t.”

His answer chipped away the last brick in the dam and the floodgates broke. She flung herself into his chest, arms wrapping around his shoulders and fingers twisting in the sodden fabric of his shirt, sobbing into the warm skin of his neck. He froze in her embrace, whole body stock-still until something in him seemed to break too, and his own arms encircled her waist, bit by bit, pulling her close as he buried his face into her shoulder and two sixth graders slowly slumped to the shower floor in a tangled mess of limbs.

“J, why didn’t you say anything?”

His body trembled in her arms and she inhaled sharply at his reply of, “Because I’m not worth it.”

Pulling away from his neck to rest her forehead against his, she cupped his face in both hands and forced him to look her in the eyes, her voice quiet but adamant, insistent as she said, “Don’t you dare say that again, got it? You are worth it. So, so worth it.”

The look behind his red-rimmed, ocean blue gaze was made of pure, unadulterated disbelief and Sailor, at a loss, wracked her brain for something, anything she could do to make him see himself the way she did: loyal, adventurous, funny, and oh so brave, already a beloved, dear friend to her in the short time she’d known him. How could she help him realize he was so much more than his father’s abuse?

‘What can I do to make you believe me?’

An epiphany came to her like a bolt of lightning straight to the heart. It was more than a little crazy and the thought of actually doing it was lowkey terrifying but she’d seen it work beautifully for Alison and her girlfriend Peyton that one time and hell, she was so desperate to help her friend that she’d do just about anything. And so before her anxious mind could start to overthink she surged forward, both hands still holding his face in a gentle grip, and firmly pressed her lips to his.

JJ’s eyes were almost comically wide while he stared, frozen still at her touch, and her own eyes were just as huge as she held the kiss for a few seconds and then abruptly pulled back, her face slowly changing into a shade very similar to her hair.

“Y-you, I-” He stuttered, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as a deep pink flush started to color the tan skin of his neck. “Wh-why-”

“Because you are worthy, J. Promise me you won’t forget that.” Her words were as fierce as the hug she pulled him into, only letting the tension bleed out of her when she felt him gradually return her embrace and nod against her shoulder.

“I promise, Sail.”

“Good.”

And with that they fell silent, holding each other tight until the shower ran cold.

Sailor didn’t know it at the time but that hadn’t been just her first kiss but JJ’s too, as they never talked about it until two years later, during a game of truth or dare with the rest of the pogues. Neither actually told the truth, both giving a vague answer about a bet that seemed to placate their friends enough to let the matter drop, never to be brought up again.

The only kiss that happens today is the light brush of her lips against his forehead as she holds him close, even as the water slowly begins to lose its warmth. His embrace is tight, their limbs intertwined so fully that it’s hard to discern where one ends and the other begins and when he speaks, she has to strain to hear the words mumbled against her neck over the pounding spray of the shower.

“I don’t know how much more I can take.”

His confession cuts her deep. Hearing him admit something so utterly heartbreaking and vulnerable, coming from the side of him Sailor alone gets to see, ignites a fury that simmers under her skin and burns her from the inside out, thoughts turning venomous and, dare she say, downright homicidal. Fuck his dad. Fuck his dad and everything he’s ever done to hurt her best friend, both with and without fists.

“If I could get away with murder, I would.”

It’s true. For JJ, she’d do anything and everything to keep him safe without hesitation, up to and including maiming his dad so he could never touch him again (and if she happened to take it a little too far and straight up kill the bastard, she’d most definitely be fine with it.). He laughs, but it’s empty, hollow, and sorely lacking the joy, the carefreeness, the pure life that it normally radiates.

“You’re not the only one.”

Some time later, after the water raining down on them turns ice cold and their tears have dried, they reluctantly disentangle themselves from each other and towel off before making a quick detour to the kitchen to grab an ice pack for his ribs and have a meager dinner of sandwiches made with the last of her bread and a near empty jar of Nutella. He laughs, for real this time, when he reads the note she writes herself on the fridge future sailor, as much as you want to, you can’t live off just nutella and sheer spite, okay? please go shopping. love, past sailor <3 and grabs the marker out of her hand, adding +past jj and a little smiley face that makes her smile brightly.

They return to her room where they change, back to back, into dry clothes -one of her dresser drawers is full of his things she’s stolen acquired over the years- and, after throwing everything wet, including their discarded shirts and blanket retrieved from the bathroom, into the washing machine to be dealt with some other time, they lie on her bed side by side, shoulder to shoulder, wrapped up together in a spare throw stashed at the bottom of her closet. Binx slinks up from his spot at their feet and lazily drapes himself across their laps, purring like a motorboat when Sailor starts running her hand along his back.

“I almost sat on those,” JJ says, handing over her glasses, “and this.” He holds her forgotten book in his hands, casually flipping through the pages before turning it over and scanning the back cover.

“Have you read it before?”

He shrugs, a barely-there grimace briefly twisting his features as the motion jostles his sore ribs. “Started it, never finished.”

“Well,” She starts, slipping her glasses on and snatching the book out of his grasp, “how about we fix that? I’ll read, you pet the cat.”

Sailor’s voice is soft and steady as she starts to read aloud, a content smile on her face that’s echoed by the boy lying beside her when she settles against his side, head pillowed on the arm he curls around her shoulders without a thought. JJ’s the near perfect listener, only snickering once or twice at her total butchering of some of the more difficult Greek names (how come she can say Hephaestus just fine but gets tripped up on Dionysus?) but otherwise hanging off her every word and the relaxed ease with which he runs his hand through the ends of her damp hair fills her with a warmth, a happiness that she can’t describe but never wants to stop.

Hidden away from the rest of the world, curled up together on her bed, they forget the day’s past horrors and replace them with bright hopes for the future, exchanging comforting touches, deliberate yet played off as unintentional, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp -a caress of knuckles here, a brush of a palm there- as she reads into the night, until the cloudy sky darkens to black and they’re both fighting off the languid pull of sleep.

“I think that’s enough for today.” He plucks the book from her hands without waiting for a response and marks their place with a gas station receipt she was using as a makeshift placeholder, and setting it on the beside drawer.

“It’s your turn to read tomorrow,” He takes her glasses off with gentle fingers as she speaks into what little space still exists between them (that’s not otherwise occupied by Binx), smiling at the slow graze of his thumb along her cheek and nestles further against his side. “I’m done botching the names of deities for a while.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Damn it, Sailor kind of hates it when he says that cause it makes her feel things that she’s not quite ready to think about yet. Thankfully, her blush is swallowed by the darkness as he turns off the light and settles down beside her, arm slung low over her waist; her hand carefully brushes against his bruised ribs over the old shirt he wears, ice pack long ago thawed and thrown somewhere onto the hardwood floor.

“How do these feel? Better?”

She feels JJ nod, his chin brushing the top of her head. “Much.” There’s a pause, long enough that she starts to feel like she’s about to nod off, then he whispers, “Thank you, Sail. I know I don’t say it enough.”

She takes a deep breath, fingers stilling on his side, “Because you don’t need to, J. Remember what I said earlier, in the bathroom?”

He nods again but doesn’t reply, instead drawing circles on the small of her back, so she takes it as a cue to continue, “I care about you, okay? You don’t have to thank me for that. I’m just...doing what feels right.”

After a beat, the arm she’s using as a pillow curls and pulls her tighter against him as he says quietly, almost shyly, “I care about you, too.”

The rain outside had slowed to a drizzle without either teenager noticing and the gentle pitter-patter against the roof casts a somnolent spell into the air, dazed and dreamy. It wraps around the pair, not unlike the way they wrap around each other, and slowly, easily, safely, they drift off as one.

let me know what you think!

taglist ❤: @jiaraendgame @hmsjiara @heavensalreadyheres @obxsummer @maysbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @sunflowerbecca @obxlife @obx-adventures @sexualparkour @mortifiedposts @coltonparayyko @miawantsapuppy @jjmaybanky

74 notes · View notes

glitterslag · 5 years

Text

One Of These Nights (Roger Taylor x Reader) | one-shot |

omg I LOVED this request! I’d never even heard that song before but you’re right, it’s perfect for rog! Also can I just say, @ people who send in specific and/or detailed prompts: i McFreakin love you

I hope you don’t mind that I changed it a little bit - i couldn’t imagine Roger disco-ing, so I thought it would be fun to set it at Deaky’s kid’s roller disco birthday party instead.

Word Count: 2k Warnings: language, implied smut, Roger’s dodgy sense of humour A/N: I imagined Ben!Roger for this one but do you girl

LINK TO THE TUNE :)

Also here’s a link to the kind of dancing style I was imagining (without the opera music obviously)

enjoy :)

It’s a Saturday afternoon, and you’ve been called into work last minute to cover a kids birthday party after Sarah phoned in “sick”.

“Interesting.” You smirk into the receiver when your manager calls you to the break the news. “She seemed perfectly fine when she was downing those Sambuca shots in the pub last night -”

“I’ll pay you over-time.” He cuts in.

“Fine.”

You grin and slam the handset down.

It’s just a temporary job - evenings and weekends, until you finish getting your MSc. And it isn’t even bad. You were a bartender during your third year and it had been hell. The hours here are better, the wages higher even without tips. And you don’t get nearly as many lecherous old men.

Anyway, you don’t mind working over-time if it’s for this. A kid’s party - teeny tiny kiddies, like ages 5 and 6. They’re everyone’s favourite kinds of shifts. You burn your throat gulping down your coffee and pull on your roller skates. You’ll be late if you don’t skate there.

You roll in and immediately head to the rink, slinging your bag down onto the reception desk where your manager, shooting you a grateful look as you pass, takes it through to the back for you.

“I’ll sign you in!” He half yells after you, and you wave him off and speed down to the rink to join a harassed looking Louise.

“Oh thank God you’re here.”

She’s got a line of tots jostling at her counter, grabbing for skates in the right size.

“Did you hear what Sarah’s told Tommy?” You wonder as you eye the long line of excited kids snaking up to the kiosk, some chattering in groups, some clinging onto their parents hands.

Louise raises an eyebrow in question.

“Flu.” You smirk.

“Flu?!” She says in disbelief, disappearing under her counter momentarily to tuck a pair of pink sparkly Lelli Kelly’s away underneath.

“Flu my arse! Wouldn’t have believed her if he’d seen - there you go sweetie, size 13 - seen the way she was dancing on those tables last night!”

You chortle with glee.

“That’s what I said!”

*****

You skate out into the middle of the floor and the first thing you notice are a pair of young men hanging over the side of the rink. There are, of course, a few parents supervising, but these two only look a year or two older than you, and it isn’t clear whether they are accompanying a child. Plus, one of them - a blond - looks to be swigging from a can of beer.

You decide to skate over and just make sure.

“Hi there,” You approach the blond with your best polite customer service tone, not wanting to cause any problems.

He looks up at you with a smirk.

“I’m sorry sir but you’ll have to drink that outside,” You explain apologetically.” “This is a children’s function, and we don’t allow alcohol on the premises.”

His gaze is fixed on you, and you shrink a little in it despite being raised up a head taller than him in the ring, bumped up by the height of your wheels. He tips the can into his mouth and slowly finishes it, before crunching it up and putting it into his pocket.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He says. His voice is oddly soft.

You nod, and your gaze switches between him and his friend. He doesn’t look 25.

“Are you here with a child?” You ask, trying to keep your voice neutral.

“Nah.” The blonde cuts in casually and your head snaps back to him once more. “M’just tagging along to check out the hot talent.”

He leers at you and grins, and it’s enough to make your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline. “Excuse m-”

“He’s with me” His friend cuts in loudly before you can shout, clearly exasperated. “I’m John, that’s my wife Veronica.”

He nods toward a wooden spectator bench a little way away and your eyes fall onto a young women, sat handing out cartons of juice to a sea of grabby children, one of whom had on a little paper hat, and a birthday boy badge.

“It’s my son’s sixth birthday party.”

“Sorry,” You say, smiling at John quickly. “You just looked young to have a child.”

He nods and gives you a slightly strained smile.

“Yes, well. We were very young when we had Robert.”

You take that as your cue to leave them to it.

*****

“You not getting your skates on?” You ask as you loop backwards past the man - whose name you’ve learnt is Roger - for the hundredth time that hour.

“Disco’s not really my thing.” He retorts, and you roll your eyes.

You hadn’t imagined that it would be. Even standing there at a kids party, his can of beer now replaced by a carton of Ribena, the man looks the epitome of edge. Cigarette placed behind his ear, poking out from his messy, bleach blonde waves. Red leather jacket and a loud, zebra print shirt, with so many buttons undone it barely covers his naval.

“Oh, come on!” You say with a grin, looking backwards at him over your shoulder as you skate away.

“Stop flirting.” Louise has had to remind you more than once, because you’ve been so distracted laughing at him you’ve nearly tripped over a child.

You just smile bashfully at her and shrug as he calls out after you, “Maybe you can show me later!”

*****

“Lucky bitch.” You sniff as you watch Louise stow her skates away in her locker and grab her things. Sarah’s shift happens to be the close, meaning you’re stuck there until the last customer leaves the complex, and then you’ll have to clean up and lock up.

She just grins at you wickedly as she waves goodbye, and exits the building. The Deacon’s are also heading towards the exit, after having ensured that every child has been collected, and you shoot them a quick smile and a little wave to Robert as his mum drags him away from his party.

John has reluctantly left Roger with you, who has offered to stay and help you “clean up”, in return for you teaching him how to skate.

Big feet, you muse to yourself as you spray his size 11s with the antiseptic, before handing them over. As you watch him struggling to pull the skates on in his tight leather trousers, you can’t help but speculate at what else might be big.

You have to hold his hands at first (big and rough with calluses - you wonder briefly what he does for a living) but by the time you come back with the brush and mop he’s holding his own, wobbling around the ring in a slow but steady circle.

“That’s it!” You praise, and he grins to himself.

You sweep up while he messes around, your skates and Tommy’s long-handled platform broom allowing you to have the place clean in record time. Roger gets in your path a few times and you use the bristles to swat at him playfully. You finish up, and skate over to the decks and put some music on. You’re flicking through the tracks absently, until you come across one that sparks an idea.

You glance around the rink until your eyes land on little plastic chairs they leave out for the parents to sit on. Roger watches you quizzically as you drag one over to the middle of the floor, setting it down and then motioning him to skate over.

“Are you gonna give me a lap dance or something?” He says cheekily as you push him down into the chair, but you only shush him and whiz back over to the disco decks. He waits patiently for you, a little bemused.

You press play on your competition song and skate over to stand in front of him, grinning at the confused expression on his face as you get into your starting position, waiting for the intro to count you in.

One of these nights, one of these crazy old nights We're gonna find out, pretty mama, what turns on your lights

Roger’s face breaks into a wide smirk as you start to dance around his chair, realising what you were doing. You were performing your competition piece for him.

The full moon is calling, the fever is high And the wicked wind whispers and moans You got your demons, you got your desires Well, I got a few of my own

The lyrics make blood rush to your cheeks, aware of his hawk-like gaze upon you at all times. He leans back against the back of the chair, legs spread out wide and his arms coming up to fold across his chest. He bites his lip and grins, and you cast your eyes down to the floor with a smirk of your own, too shy to look him in the eye.

Oh, someone to be kind to in between the dark and the light Oh, coming right behind you, swear I'm gonna find you, one of these nights

Your focus, instead of on Roger, is on the wall behind him, spotting so as not to get dizzy as you execute your turns. You don’t, therefore, notice how tight his leather jeans are becoming, nor what’s straining against them.

One of these dreams, one of these lost and lonely dreams, now We're gonna find one, mm, one that really screams I've been searching for the daughter of the devil himself I've been searching for an angel in white I've been waiting for a woman who's a little of both And I can feel her but she's nowhere in sight

You’ve turned to perform the section where you have your back to the audience, and the music is so loud you don’t even realise he’s skated right up behind you until you feel him bumping into your back.

Oh, loneliness will blind you in between the wrong and the right Oh, coming right behind you, swear I'm gonna find you, one of these nights

You jump and let out a little gasp, and his hands shoot out to grasp onto your hips to steady himself. The two of you jostle back and forward slightly on your wheels. You stop dancing.

Coming right behind you, swear I'm gonna find you Get you, baby, one of these nights One of these nights I can feel it, I can feel it

You feel something pressing into the small of your back, and Roger’s need becomes apparent. You place your hands on top of his, tight on your hips. His lips come down to ghost over your bare shoulder.

“Y’know, my cars parked round the back.” He whispers into your ear. You feel the tickle of his breath on your neck, and swallow.

“I’ll lock up.”

*****

You step out into the night. He’s sat in the driver’s seat, warming the car up. Rubbing his hands together in the cold and blowing into them. You grin and get in.

“Cor, it’s freezing in here!” You giggle, and you’re barely sat down in the passenger’s seat before he’s making a grab for you.

“C’mere.” He says, pulling you forcefully across the gear stick and into his lap, and it’s half-muffled by an eager kiss before it’s even out of his mouth.

*****

“Well.” You say a little awkwardly as you plop back down in the passenger seat, hastily pulling your clothes back on. “You should probably take me home.”

You’re still panting. That had been quite something.

He’s bare-chested, using his top to clean all the fog you’d made off his windscreen.

“Come for a drink first?” He says easily, and you fight a smile.

“It’s kiinda the wrong way around, but… okay.”

He grins victoriously and starts the car, smiling to himself as he puts it in reverse and backs out of the parking space, arm thrown over the back of the passenger seat. You can’t help but grin back, excitement bubbling up in your tummy.

He turns on the radio as he gets onto the main road, just as some cheesy disco song is finishing. Roger’s fingers, still resting behind your head, tap out the rhythm absentmindedly. He looks sexy, driving with one hand like that.

The presenter chatters away at a frequency you can’t quite hear, so you miss him introducing the next song. Roger doesn’t, though.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye with a shit-eating smile on his face, waiting for the light to go on in your head. He watches the look of familiarity wash over your face as the symbols kick in.

You whip your head around to look at him just in time.

“One of these nights -”

Roger’s bent double over the steering wheel in peals of laughter almost the entire way to the bar.

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #queen #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #borhap boys #roger taylor headcanons #young roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #queen imagines #ben hardy!roger x reader #ben hardy! roger taylor #my writing #blurbs #requests

132 notes · View notes