#jj fic
Text
mine — j. maybank
short little jj fic bc i've been thinking about this one for dayssss
❝ what if he's written
'mine' on my upper thigh
only in my mind ❞
pairing: bf!jj x fem!reader
context: jj gives you a stick and poke tattoo.
words: 321
warnings: tattooing, branding (?), fluff
"quit squirming, mama," jj gently pushes your thigh down to keep it steady as he used a stick and poke kit on your inner, upper thigh just right below your bikini line.
"can you hurry it up, jay?" you ask, eyes watching him carefully.
"give me a sec, i'm almost done," he said, poking little dots into your skin, as he finished up one j.
you still couldn't believe he was able to convince you to let him do this. seriously, who in their right mind let their boyfriend tattoo their initials on them? no one.
no one does this.
but when he promised that he'd let you poke your initials into his bicep, you couldn't exactly say no. especially when he pouted and gave you those cute little puppy dog eyes of his and told you it was to symbolize his infinite love for you.
besides, it's not like you'd come to regret it, right? jj wasn't just your boyfriend, but your best friend. the one person in the world you'd completely laid yourself bare to and still loved and accepted you for exactly who you were.
even if it were to end, at least you'd have a reminder of what it'd felt like to be young and in love.
you were okay with that, right?
"all done," jj gives you his wide toothy grin once he finished up a s after the apostrophe and sat up. "now you're officially mine forever."
you chuckle and kink a brow at him. "oh, is that so?"
"oh yeah," he nods, moving to wrap his arms around you. "you good with that?"
"as long as you are," you let yourself sink back against his warm chest, and glance down at his initials that were now forever carved on your upper thigh.
jj's, the tattoo read.
he smiles, lips placing a soft kiss on your forehead, as he rested his head against yours. "always."
reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33
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guilty as sin?(fic - part 2/2)
jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | read part 1 here!
content warning: mentions of sexual content; mentions of parental abuse (drug misuse, physical abuse, neglect, emotional abuse); physical violence (blood) | any questions for trigger warnings, feel free to inbox anonymously
word count: 10k.
blurb: you and JJ start a secret relationship under the radar of your half-brother, John B. But with your life in Colorado becoming more and more unavoidable, and stupid slip-ups as the two of you grow closer, it becomes harder to keep your affair secret.
Daylight brings you out of your sleep, disoriented. You grunt and try to bury yourself deeper into the sheets, hiding from the sunlight. They smell like JJ. It relaxes you like a baby soothed by its favourite blanket. But then you remember what happened, and where you are, and that it’s morning. Sitting up, you glance around the bedroom and yep, this is definitely not my room. You look down to find JJ still sleeping, his face smushed into pillow. He’s on his front, the bedsheets mostly hogged by yours truly, showing his back decorated with scratch marks. A weird sense of pride overcomes you, like you’ve marked your territory. Sighing, you relax back into the bed. There’s a dull ache between your legs and you’re slightly sticky with sweat, but neither is particularly unpleasant. After a few minutes, you decide you can’t take the quiet anymore.
You roll over and prod at JJ’s face.
“Mhm, leave me alone, it’s the weekend.”
“Wake up. I’m bored,” you say.
You keep poking until he bats your hand away. With a long exhale, he rolls onto his side and cracks open an eye.
“Hi,” you smile. It’s hard not. You feel like you’ve slept with a coat hanger in your mouth.
“Hi.”
He reaches out a hand and strokes the side of your face, tucking some hair behind your ears. There’s a sleepy smile growing on his face as he wakes up.
“Sleep okay?” he rasps, voice croaky from want of use.
“Mhm. You?”
“Like a Goddamn baby.”
With another grunt and sigh, he shifts onto his back and reaches blindly for his phone on the nightstand. He checks the time first, and then his notifications, and suddenly he jolts up in bed, wide awake.
“Your brother’s been blowing me up.”
You stomach drops. “What?”
“He’s asking if I know where you are,” JJ says, reading the texts.
“Do you think he knows I’m here?” you worry.
Suddenly the tryst of last night loses its incandescent glow. Reality is there in the morning the same way sun sheds light on all things that happen in the dark.
JJ shakes his head, eyes fixated on his screen. “No, no. He’d have come over.”
“Oh, right,” you mumble. You sit up and gnaw on one of your nails. JJ shuts off his phone and looks at you. “We gotta come up with an alibi.”
“Right. Course,” he nods.
“Um…We can just say that I slept over.”
JJ looks at you like you just suggested to commit a joint felony and skip state.
“Not that I slept over, slept over. You can say you saw shit go down with Tom, you offered to give me a ride back, I was upset and fell asleep.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Yeah, yeah, that makes sense. I gave you the bed and I crashed on the couch, and we forgot to text him.”
“I think my phone’s dead anyway, so it’s not even a complete lie. And I did stay over here, so…”
JJ swallows. He nods and starts typing, sending the text. You both wait in pregnant silence for John B to respond. The minute it comes through, JJ reads it aloud.
“Cool. Just wanted to check she’s okay. Thanks for looking out for her.”
The sigh of relief the two of you share sounds rehearsed. As JJ types his reply, a question comes to mind. You’d spent all last night suppressing it, but now it spews out of you like word vomit.
“Is this a bad idea?”
JJ sends the message and shuts off his phone, looking to you. “Is what a bad idea?”
“This,” you say, gesturing between the both of you. “Us.”
“No,” JJ replies, but his expression tells you otherwise. “No. ‘Sides, it’s only gonna happen the one time, right? No harm done. What John B doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
“Right. Yeah, the one time,” you echo.
JJ nods. “One time.”
Thank God neither of you are on the witness stand: you don’t sound very convincing. What was supposed to be a ‘get it out of the system’ affair might have unlocked some feral part of you that can’t go unfed. You didn’t have an extensive sexual history, but JJ blew all of them and your own psyche out of the water. That isn’t the kind of thing you can just walk away from, especially when you’ll see him every day.
“Just as long as John B doesn’t find out,” you hear yourself remark.
“Yeah. He’s got enough shit going on right now; we just need to be there for him.”
You nod.
“Sides. I made him a promise.”
Frowning, you ask, “a promise?”
“When you first came back to Kildare, I sort of brought up to John B that night at the bonfire, when you went to bed early, that I thought you were kinda cute. But he got ticked off. Told me you were going through a tough time and stuff, and to stay away from you. ‘If you’re a real friend, you’ll stay away from her’, to quote.”
“Yikes,” you mumble.
JJ nods, looking down at his hands. “Yep. Pretty clear message there.”
“Yeah, you really drove it home.”
He thankfully laughs at that.
“I mean, that’s some real Romeo and Juliet shit,” you add, laughing yourself.
He shakes his head. “Shit, I hope not. Don’t really wanna stab myself.”
“No, I stab myself. You just drink poison,” you correct.
“Yeah, I’m still not thrilled about that.”
You snigger and sink back into the pillows propped against his headrest. “I mean, it could be kinda fun, sneaking around.”
JJ raises a brow, lolling his head to the side to meet your gaze. “Oh yeah?”
“Mhm. Little secret hook-ups and stuff…”
“You’re that horny, huh?”
You shove his shoulder, revelling in his laugh. He grabs your hand and presses a quick kiss to your wrist. Then he looks at you, smiles, and it’s almost like a silent agreement. This is not a one-time thing.
“Breakfast?”
“God, yes,” you sigh.
JJ’s kitchen isn’t just messy, it’s unclean. You can understand why: his dad doesn’t scream house-wife energy and JJ is hardly home. He’s also, as hard as it is to admit it, a teenage boy. In the fruit bowl there’s mouldy peaches and bananas which are black. Fruit flies are having a feast, so at least there’s some positives to the pandemonium. The fridge is barren apart from some bacon. He keeps bread in the freezer so at least that isn’t mouldy. You perch yourself on the counter, dressed in nothing but his t-shirt, and watch him cook. It’s domestic and dull and you love every moment. He serves up two bacon sandwiches and passes one to you. Stands between your legs as you eat, one of his hands taking purchase on your bare thigh.
“S’good,” you tell him through your chewing.
“Thanks. Bout as good as my cooking gets.”
“Mhm. I could live off bacon sandwiches,” you say.
JJ chuckles. “Think Kie might have something to say about that. About how pigs are killing the planet with deforestation and treated unhumanely and bla bla bla.”
“I love your passion for political issues,” you sarcastically remark. He pinches your thigh in retaliation. You laugh. It’s simple and stupid and blissful.
When the two of you are done eating, he adds your dirty dishes to the impressive stack in the sink and makes no move to clean them. You follow him back to his bedroom and the two of you get dressed. He recommends you shower back the Chateau and you take it as code for ‘our bathroom is disgusting’. Thankfully when you peed in the dark last night, you were too fucked-out to notice. Once dressed, you tame your hair with a comb in the mirror and let JJ press kisses into your neck. He’s like a koala bear: it’s impossible to keep his hands off you. How the fuck are we gonna sneak around?
“We should head back before John B gets suspicious,” you tell him, placing the comb back on his desk.
JJ nods. He looks mouth wateringly good in his muscle tee. “I’ll take you back on my bike.”
Every minute spent as a backpack on JJ’s bike, you tether yourself to him as closely as possible. Now that the barrier has been broken, everything has come flooding out. Those same feelings that you harboured back in your preteens have only grown with your age. And now he’s here, in your arms, and you don’t want to let go. As the Chateau comes into sight, you know you have to. John B is hanging in the hammock with Kie. JJ kicks out the stand and steps off, as do you, and you both walk over with a safe space between you.
“Hey! Here they are!”
“Hey!” you smile back, waving to Kiara.
“Jeez, you guys took your time this morning,” John B comments.
Before JJ can speak, you say, “yeah, I had one too many last night. Threw up and needed more sleep.”
“Welcome to Kildare,” Kie grins. You laugh and give a mock bow as if you’d passed some unspoken initiation.
“Right, well, I gotta head out. Helping Lou out with some jobs today,” JJ declares.
“Alright man. See you round,” Kiara says, her attention already back on her phone.
“And thanks for taking care of my little sister,” John B adds.
JJ looks down at you. There’s a playful glint in his eyes as he says. “Yeah, no problem. It was fun.”
Asshole.
Then he’s wandering off to his bike, leaving you stranded, having to act as if last night never happened. You head into the house and work on your watercolours. All you can seem to notice is that the colours of the marsh water are the same as JJ’s eyes. The same eyes you stared into as he came apart underneath you.
Shit. This is going to suck.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sneaking around was…doable. If it weren’t for the Friday nights, you weren’t sure you’d be able to cope. Even then, the question grew more and more with each clandestine meeting. How long can this last?
Friday nights were spent at JJ’s house. You told John B that you were crashing at Lizzy’s, and JJ made up some bullshit excuse to get out of hanging out with the Pogues on Friday evenings: I gotta help my dad with this thing…The nights were spent tangled in bedsheets, pillow talk breaking up the unsated touching that made up for lost time. Your body is still recovering from the buzz of an orgasm when your phone starts to buzz on the nightstand.
JJ leans over and picks it up. His chest is damp with sweat from the nightly antics. He rolls back over to you and holds out your phone.
“Your mom’s calling.”
“Let it go to voicemail,” you tell him, not sparing it a glance.
JJ does as you say and when the ‘missed call’ notification appears, it’s accompanied by ‘(23)’.
“You ignoring her or something?” JJ asks, alluding to the pile-up of missed calls.
You look to him and shrug. “Or something.”
“What’s going on with all that, anyway?”
Your intestines twist uncomfortably. “What’d you mean?”
“I mean, why aren’t you in Colorado for the summer?”
“I told you. I wanted a change of scenery,” you say.
JJ laughs, unconvinced. “Bull-shit. You haven’t come back here in years, and you’re closer to L.A. than North Carolina. Why not go there? It’s warmer.”
“Hardly,” you say. “And it’s full of fake people. Influencers and tourists. And the traffic is—”
“Think we’re getting off topic?” JJ wonders, raising a brow.
You take your phone off him and clear the notifications, as if washing away your mom’s presence in your life entirely. Sitting up, you shove your hair off your face and dump your phone on the windowsill.
“What does it matter, JJ? So I wanted to come to Kildare again – who cares?”
“I care,” JJ replies. He sits up too.
You snort, irritation tickling at your throat. “What? Cause we’re fucking you think you deserve an explanation?”
He frowns. “Don’t say that.”
“Say what?”
“‘Fucking’. Like this thing between us isn’t deeper than that,” he argues.
Swallowing your anger, you sigh and close your eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just…It’s complicated.”
When you open your eyes, they land on your phone. The screen lights up as if on cue, and you know it’s your mom chasing you down for the millionth time. You’re not sure why keep avoiding her, like the problem might go away if you ignore it. It’s like a tumour: leaving it be will only cause it to fester and grow, and be all the more awful to deal with later. But facing the truth is so painfully hard. You lean over and turn your phone off completely.
“I thought John B already told you about it all, anyway,” you quietly say.
“Not really. Only that you were going through a tough time,” JJ replies.
Sighing, you lean back into the pillows.
Finding a small smile, you sardonically ask, “alright. You wanna hear my sob story?”
JJ sniggers but it isn’t mean. He shuffles closer so you can rest against him. His body was always more comfortable than his bedding anyway. That is his silent answer: yes.
“My mom got in this accident at work two years ago. They put her on Tylenol but it didn’t help, so they switched her to OxyContin. She got hooked pretty quick and started dating this dirt-bag Rick. He was her dealer and kept her supplied, cause most of the pharmacies cut her off when it was pretty obvious she was abusing,” you say.
It feels easier to get it all out in one go, like you might lose nerve if you don’t just commit.
“Rick’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t like me for whatever reason so he chips away at me. Just dumb stuff that probably doesn’t even sound that bad out of context, but when you’re in it, and someone’s picking away at you…It gets to you.”
JJ starts to stroke at your hairline. It prompts you to continue.
“Anyway, he started stealing my shit to sell, to keep him and my mom going. She couldn’t keep a job held down much so I started working to help out with bills. But then Rick started stealing my paychecks and spending my money on useless crap or drugs. I got angry and confronted them and…And my mom took his side, over me.”
You sigh and meddle with your fingers. The tears start to sting but you’re so tired of wallowing over it. You’ve wasted too much energy on her.
“I don’t think it’s a newsflash that she’s not the best mom. I mean, she left me with Big John for four years, dragged me across the country and never contacted her only son again. But it just hurt, having the person that brought you into the world pick a stranger over you, y’know?”
You eventually feel JJ nod against you. It’s not a feeling you have to describe for him; he knows more than anyone to feel pain at the hand of someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally.
“Rick got ticked off that I tried to go against him, so he got meaner. Left my room a mess, made me do the chores, dumb petty crap like that. The worst thing was when he found my paintings though. He tore them up and ruined them. Scribbled over them. And I know they’re just drawings, and I know this is going to sound dumb,” you warn, laughing self-deprecatingly. “But they were my escape. I hated it there, but I could draw these worlds and feel like they were just for me, and I could exist there instead. And even that was taken from me.”
Images that you repressed flash back into your mind. The enchanting gardens and psychedelic landscapes mottled with black ink, indistinguishable. The way it felt like your heart might fall out of your chest and shatter on your bedroom floor when you found scraps of your paintings tossed around your room.
You clear the memories with a shallow sigh.
“Anyway…” you continue. “I got lonely. Working and all the crap at home made me miss a lot of school. I didn’t have many friends anyway. The thought of spending a whole summer there was just…I couldn’t do it. So I hit up John B and boom. Here I am.”
JJ stares at you, digesting the story. It’s certainly not as chirpy and simple as ‘I wanted a change of scenery.’ It’s scary to strip yourself down to your most vulnerable core. Different to being naked and exposed during sex: almost worse.
“And you’re gonna go back there? When the summer ends?” JJ asks.
You look up at him. You can’t pick-out one emotion on his face, there’s so many. Anger, sadness, vengeance, concern…
“Yes. No. I don’t…” you cut yourself off with a sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I do,” JJ is quick to return. “You should stay here.”
“What? And burden John B forever?”
“Sure. Why not?”
You laugh. “I don’t think it’s that simple.”
“Why isn’t it?”
“Cause you’re forgetting that I’m a minor, JJ. And that Big John is missing, and John B is living alone illegally. If I try to transfer here and get emancipated from my mom, it’ll just open that whole can of worms and could do more damage than good. Me and John B could both end up in foster care, and I might still get sent back to Colorado either way.”
JJ wasn’t expecting such a thorough response. It was laughable that he thought you hadn’t debated moving back to Kildare. That was your original plan, until you contacted John B and found out his dad was gone. A summer escape felt like the best option, like a breath of fresh air away from your stifling homelife, but it wasn’t a long-term fix. Life was too convoluted for that.
“Why does it have to be legal? Just run away,” JJ eventually says.
You quirk a brow tiredly. “Run away? What, like I’m ten years old and didn’t get my choice on the TV?”
“I’m serious,” JJ sighs. He shifts, kneeling before you, holding your gaze. “Fuck the government and whatever. Just stay here. Nobody’s gonna rat you out.”
“What about school?”
“Pope can tutor you,” he says.
“And a place to stay?”
“John B’s room and my place. Hell, maybe Kiara’s folks have a spare room too.”
Your heart melts a little. He’s so determined.
Smiling sadly, you stroke his face lovingly. You don’t want to snuff out his last slither of hope. So, you gently tell him, “Maybe.”
“Yeah? You’ll think about it?” he hopefully asks.
You nod, heart clenching with the lie. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”
You’re glad he kisses you then, because you can’t bare looking at him a moment longer knowing that in a month, you’ll be gone.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hurricane Agatha was a bitch. You’re amazed you managed to sleep through as much of the storm as you did.
You venture out your bedroom to find JJ leant against the doorframe of the porch. He’s already drinking a beer, early in the morning. You spot John B out in the backyard. He’s moving fallen branches out the way to recover the H.M.S. Pogue, back facing you. Breezing past JJ, you take advantage of John B’s distraction, slapping your unofficial boyfriend on the butt. He cusses, pinching your own as you head down the stairs. It’s the most you’ve been able to touch each other in over twenty-four hours without raising suspicion. You join your brother in ridding the boat of leaves and sticks. JJ wanders over.
“Whatcha thinking?” he asks.
“I’m thinkin’ that storm surge pushed all the crabs out on the marsh maze. All those drum are gonna chase the crab.” As he replies, John B clambers into the boat.
“What about the DCS? Wasn’t that today?” JJ asks.
John B had tried to keep as much of the DCS nightmare out of your line of sight, but you weren’t stupid. It certainly helped that you were sleeping with his best friend, a guy infamous for having loose lips. To say that John B getting found out would do some damage to yourself would be an understatement.
“Nah, they’re not getting on a ferry,” John B replies.
You look to JJ. He’s leant forward on the nose of the boat. His slender frame and well-kept body is frustratingly attractive when you can do nothing about it.
“Come on, think about it. It’s God telling us to fish!” John B says.
JJ shrugs. “I mean, I’m down. Just gotta take a leak first.”
John B says your name, drawing your attention back to him. “You coming?”
“Think I’m gonna stay in. Paint.”
JJ clears his throat, mumbling out ‘boring’ as he does. You mirthfully roll your eyes. Tapping the boat in farewell, you give a small wave.
“Have fun!”
There’s the crunch and snapping of twigs and leaves as JJ follows you back to the Chateau. You wander to the bathroom and retrieve your toothbrush. JJ joins you, shrugging his shorts down to pee. There’s no need to fill the domesticated sounds of living with chatter. Outside, John B continues to clear the boat. You spit into the sink and step aside so JJ can wash his hands. He brushes some of your hair off your shoulder when he’s done, leaning down to press a kiss on the spot where your neck becomes your shoulder. His hair tickles your skin and you laugh around your toothbrush.
“You sure you don’t wanna come today?” he asks, looping his arms around your waist.
You nod and spit into the sink again. His eyes meet yours through the reflection of the bathroom mirror. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve got some ideas I’ve wanted to get down for a while now, but I’ve been a little distracted.”
He grins at the insinuation.
“You looking forward to your birthday next week?” he asks.
“Mhm,” you hum, toothbrush back in mouth.
“You know what you want?”
“Mm-mm,” you say, shaking your head.
His grip tightens ever so slightly around you. “I’ve got a few ideas…”
One of his hands comes to hand on the middle of your upper back, coaxing you to lean forward over the bathroom sink. With that, he crudely pretends to take you from behind. Rolling your eyes, you wriggle out of his hold.
“You’re disgusting,” you say with a mouth full of toothpaste.
“You love it,” he quips. “Alright. I’ll see you later.”
“See ya.”
JJ plants another kiss to your bare shoulder, blows a raspberry, and laughs as you swat him away. There’s the open and shut of the front door, his energetic chatter with your brother, grunts and groans as they move the boat to the water, and then the sound of JJ’s whoops and hollers as they set off into the town. It’s quiet in the house without them there. You find JJ’s sweatshirt on the pull-out and shrug it on. The smell calms your soul. Taking purchase at the dining table, you retrieve your phone to find the service is out.
“Let’s see you try and call me now,” you mumble to your device, indirectly talking to your mother.
The watercolours you’ve accumulated over the past few weeks of living in Kildare could be made into a tourist guide. Whilst the gang helped at Heyward’s, you painted the shop front during a lemonade break; days spent on the H.M.S Pogue gave you drawings of the Marsh; evenings on the waterfront let you capture the beauty of the ocean. The bonfire and the hammock; JJ’s surf shack; your claimed bedroom in the Chateau…The more you painted, the more you fell in love with Kildare, and the more you wanted to stay. You refill your mason jar with fresh water and begin to work on your latest picture. It’s of JJ’s bedroom. You’ve spent enough time in there to recall it from memory. It feels like your corner of the world, safe away from prying eyes.
As the day stretches on, the group returns to the Chateau. You hear their loud chatter as they approach the house, and it seems to merge into some kind of argument when they get to the porch. Itabruptly ends after your brother announces: just let me think. You ditch your paint, hiding the artwork under less incriminating pieces, and head out to join them. JJ sits in the red armchair you’re so fond of, flicking his lighter. Kiara is on the sofa and you take the spot beside her, frowning at your brother’s face; he’s deep in thought.
“What’s going on?” you ask. You hope it isn’t the DCS.
Before anyone can reply, Pope comes racing up the stairs.
“Okay, so um, we didn’t see anything. We don’t know anything.”
You frown deepens. “What?”
He drops down onto the spot beside you, ignoring your question. “We need to have total and complete amnesia,” he tells John B.
“Actually, Pope’s right for once,” JJ says from the armchair. You all look over to him. “See, I agree with you sometimes.”
He gets to his feet, wandering towards John B. “Deny, deny, deny.”
“Guys, we can’t keep that money,” Kiara declares.
“Okay, not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara,” JJ tells her.
Now you’re annoyed. “What money? What the hell is going on!?”
“We found a boat,” John B replies.
“There was a key in the boat,” Pope continues.
“The key unlocked a motel room door,” Kie says.
“And we found a shit ton of money. And a gun,” JJ finishes.
“A gun?” you gape. He nods.
“Which he stole,” Kie points out.
Your mouth hangs open even more, if that is somehow possible. “You kept the gun, JJ?”
“It was a good gun,” he defends, throwing his arms up.
Idiot. You drop your head into your hands. “I leave you guys alone for one day…”
“I was trying to be the voice of reason!” Pope tells you, defending himself.
You shake your head. “Wait? Whose money and gun was it? Whose boat was it?”
“Scooter Grubbs,” John B replies.
“We have to pass the money on to Lana Grubbs, otherwise it’s bad karma,” Kiara says.
“Bad karma to be implicated in a felony, too,” Pope chimes in.
Felony? Yeah, you’re already pushing it staying with your half-brother, unsupervised in a state different to your mom who doesn’t exactly know where you’ve gone…
“We gotta go dark,” he finishes.
JJ paces past the three of you, saying, “if that means we get to keep the money, then I agree.”
As he comes to a stop in front of the porch entryway, John B seems to return to the room, out of his thoughts. He pats JJ’s bare shoulder. “I don’t agree.”
“What? Why?”
“Just think about it,” John B says. “This is Scotter Grubbs we’re talking about. Alright? Same dude that’s buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas.”
All of you watch John B’s spiel. “We’re talking about a dirtbag marina rat who’s never had more than forty bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden he’s got a Grady-White? Just sayin’.”
“Wait? What’s a Grady-White?” you ask, looking to JJ. He fills you in. Short answer: a very expensive boat.
“Well, I vote we don’t keep the money,” Pope says.
“I vote we keep it,” JJ disputes, lifting his hand. He looks to John B but he doesn’t respond. Then he looks to you, and you crumble under the gaze, shrugging.
“I don’t know,” you mumble.
“Let’s take the day to think about it,” Kiara says.
And that you do. You all venture onto the jetty to fish. You stand beside JJ as he waits for something to bite, fighting the urge to lean against him. John B continues chattering away to Pope, painting the scene of a drug smuggling industry. Him and JJ agree that if he was ‘straight smuggling’, there’s probably more contraband in the boat wreck. Somehow you all wind up in your bedroom, and Pope finally relents. He agrees to rummage the wreck for contraband but ensures to underline how stupid he thinks it is.
“Right, well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time,” JJ philosophises. You watch him fan out the money.
You can’t help but feel the saying can relate to your own secret romance. Is it a stupid, remarkably bad idea to keep fooling around? Yes. Is the temporary outcome good? Hell yes.
“All we need to do is figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck. Until then, we just lay low. Act normal.”
“Right, and how exactly do we do that?” Pope asks from your bed.
“Keggar?” Kie offers.
Everyone shares a look. You sigh. “I can’t. I gotta go to work.”
“The restaurants probably a wreck. Just skip,” JJ responsibly says.
You shake your head. “Well, I gotta help out even if it is. Lizzy’s probably gonna be there anyway.”
“You gonna want a lift back later?” John B wonders.
You look to JJ. He’s already watching you. “Nah, I’ll just sleep at Lizzy’s.”
He knows the code. Gives the vaguest, barely-there nod in confirmation. The group gets up, everyone filtering out the bedroom door into the main of the house, chattering about what drinks to get and how to round everyone up with the cell towers down. JJ lingers in your room a moment longer, keeping you there with a gentle grab of your wrist.
“What time should I come get you?”
“Ten,” you reply. “Outside the restaurant.”
“You got it,” he nods.
A chaste kiss and then the two of you let go of one another, joining the others in the main room. Your heart is hammering so loud you’re surprised nobody can hear it. It felt like you were playing with fire, kissing so close to the others. And fire is known for one thing: it burns.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
There’s a pattern seen in serial killers. After the first five or so murders, they start to slack. Cover their tracks less, take larger risks. You and JJ weren’t out killing anyone – despite his reckless ordeal at the keggar which you later heard about through the grapevine – but you weren’t being as vigilant as when it first started out. The two of you had started to get sloppy.
Now two weeks into the illicit affair, you could hardly recall the last full truth you told John B. Your alibis were harder to keep track of. Your excuses started to weaken. And your ability to keep your hands off JJ became near to impossible. Even if it was a fleeting touch, a loving stroke of his tousled hair…It was almost reflexive. One time Kiara caught you wipe something off his cheek. The moment you saw her in your peripheral, you acted as though you were messing with him, sticking a finger in his ear to get a reaction. But she saw it, and it was a stupid thing to do.
In JJ’s bedroom, there’s a collection of your things. They’ve accumulated over time the way rocks build up on a shoreline: slow and steady, until they’re everywhere. Hair ties scattered along the desk, skincare on his bedside table, spare clothes and underwear in his closet, a toothbrush in the bathroom (that he reluctantly cleaned up). The biggest tell was your art supplies. If John B were to walk in, there’d be questions. JJ wasn’t exactly known as a monogamous guy or an artist. Your brother wasn’t stupid: you reckon he could put the pieces together pretty damn quickly. But it was hard to find it in you to care, when staying with JJ on Friday nights felt like you were playing house.
You’d asked to help him shave the other day after he gave you beard burn on the inside of your thighs. That’s how you find yourself sat on the countertop, precariously balanced on the edge of the bathroom sink, with a razor in hand. He’s stood between your legs, running a finger up and down your thigh, and watching you as you work. Every now and then you clean the razor of hairs in the sink, filled with water. One of your hands cradles his jawline, the other delicately tracing the razor down his cheek, along the apex of his neck.
“Two more days and you’ve caught up with us,” JJ says, referring to your upcoming birthday.
You smile, looking up to meet his gaze. God, you could drawn in his eyes, drift away in them. “About damn time.”
“I think Kie’s made you a cake.”
“That’s sweet,” you hum.
“Your mom gonna call?”
“Probably,” you sigh.
They’d fixed the cell towers now. An influx of texts came through, namely asking if you were safe after the hurricane. You felt the need to say that you were and did so with a simple ‘thumbs up’ reaction. That was the most you’d said to her in a month and a half.
JJ distracts you from thoughts of your mom by tracing the scar lining your elbow. The same scar that helped JJ place a name to your face after so long apart. “Remember when you broke this,” he says.
“Same. Think it’s the most pain I’ve ever been in,” you snort.
“You wouldn’t stop crying. I had to kiss you on the forehead just to get you to shut up,” he sniggers.
JJ and John B had been climbing a tree and you didn’t want to be left behind. You also wanted to impress a certain blonde-haired boy. But you lost your footing and fell, landing at a wonky angle. It was embarrassing, and painful, and embarrassing a couple more times.
“Yeah, I remember that too,” you say, smiling. “I had the biggest crush on you. I thought I was going to faint when you did it.”
“You had a crush on me?” JJ asks.
You pull away enough for him to see your face. It perfectly says really, man? He laughs. You resume your previous position.
“You were always cute.”
“Yeah right. You always saw me as John B’s little sister.”
“Well, yeah. But you were sweet. You used to bring me Hershey kisses.”
Your face feels burning hot. God, you were so subtle back then. “Stop talking or I’m gonna nick you by accident.”
He obliges, his shit-eating grin slowly fading as you work. The satisfying scrape of the razor ridding JJ of facial hair comes to an end with one final swipe. You clean the razor, wipe him clean with a wet flannel, and plant a kiss to his lips.
“Done.”
He steps around you and leans forward, inspecting himself in the mirror. He strokes at his skin, sucking his teeth with an impressed expression.
“Pretty good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You finally gonna quit complaining about my beard making you itchy?”
“Look! It’s left a mark!” you defend, opening your legs and gesturing to the inside of your thighs.
JJ grins. He slides his large palms along the inside of your quads, fingers spanning out across the skin.
“Wanna give the new shave a test run?” he asks.
He sinks to his knees. Your smile grows, heart trilling with erotic excitement. Your fingers loop through his golden hair, nails scratching at his scalp. He places two kisses to your thigh, working towards your core. Fingers hooking onto the waistband of your shorts, you hoist yourself up so he can begin to wiggle them down your legs.
The sound of the front door slamming shut has you both freezing.
Luke Maybank clears his throat, walking into the house. You pull your shorts back up, heart loud in your throat. JJ gets to his feet and pulls the plug from the sink, draining it of water. Then you both stare wide eyed into the living room of the house. Luke collapses on the couch with a sigh, beer bottle in hand. JJ helps you down from the counter, quietly placing you on the floor. You’re not sure what to do. What the best approach is. What kind of mood Luke is in. Following JJ’s lead seems the best way to go. He looks away from the room to you. His gaze is steely and determined.
“Go into my room and go out the window,” JJ instructs in a whisper.
You nod and don’t argue. Slowly, you slink down the corridor and slide into JJ’s bedroom. You push the door closed gently, hoping for it click into the frame without drawing attention.
“JJ? That you?” Luke calls.
Cringing, you shut your eyes, hang your head, and press it against the door. You hear JJ pass the bedroom.
“Y-yeah, I’m here.”
“Thought you were at Routledge’s house,” Luke says. His voice is gruff and reminds you of sandpaper.
“Nah. Not tonight,” JJ replies. He doesn’t sound like his usual self: carefree and jovial. No, he sounds guarded. On edge, like he’s working with a wild animal, unsure of how it may react. “Thought you were out tonight too.”
“What? I can’t come back to my own home whenever I want?”
“No, course. Course you can,” JJ says.
You don’t want to leave him alone with his dad, but you know staying is risky. If Luke finds you whilst he’s in a rage, it might make things worse. He might lash out at JJ, or worse, he might turn on you. So, you slink across the room and step onto JJ’s desk, using his chair as a boost. The window slides open with little effort and you hook a leg over. The other joins it and you dangle a moment, looking down at where to land. It’s a drop about the same height as you. Bracing yourself, you bend your knees as you hit the grass. Another glance is spared to the house. It’s quiet: no shouting or fighting. Sighing, feeling as if you’re betraying JJ somehow, you begin to walk home.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
As you round the corridor into the living room, your heart sinks in disappointment when you don’t find JJ asleep out on the pull-out. Instead, the bed is half-made and abandoned. You haven’t seen JJ since you snuck out of his house last Friday. Sighing, you turn into the kitchen and open the fridge. A few gulps of orange juice out of the carton count as your breakfast. Looking to the calendar stuck to the fridge with a magnet, you point on today’s date.
“Happy birthday, me,” you mumble.
A pair of arms grab you from behind, picking you up off the floor. You yelp out in surprise.
“Happy birthday!” John B cheers.
Laughing, you let him shake you before returning you safely to the floor. Turning around, you find John B digging about in his short pockets. He retrieves a small, wrapped package and hands it to you.
“Happy sweet seventeenth.”
“The big one-seven,” you reply, thanking him.
You uncover a small pendant necklace made of sterling silver. It’s shaped like the North Carolina state. Lips moving, you give a small breath of admiration, stunned at its simple beauty.
“You like it?” he checks. You get the sense that he doesn’t buy a lot of jewellery. Looking up, you feel tears sting at your eyes. Throwing your arms around your older brother’s shoulders, you hug him.
“I love it. Thank you.”
“Course. I figured that way you always have a piece of Kildare with you,” John B says.
It’s a bittersweet sentiment. There’s only a month left of your stay in Kildare. Colorado and your life there looms like a storm cloud in the future, warning of an unavoidable downpour.
You pass the necklace to him. “Will you?”
As you turn, pulling your hair up and out the way, John B loops the necklace around your neck. When its secured, you drop your hair and turn back to him.
“How do I look?”
“Like a Pogue,” he grins.
You squeeze him in another hug before letting him grab some breakfast.
JJ doesn’t answer his phone. He doesn’t reply to texts or pick up calls. It’s frustrating as hell. You keep checking your phone as you shower, as you dress and as you do your make-up. As you finish putting on mascara, it starts to buzz. You don’t even check the caller ID: you just answer.
“Hello?”
“Oh, so you are alive.”
Mom.
You can’t speak. Can’t find enough air in your lungs to formulate words. Even if you could, nothing comes to mind. Nothing.
“Hello? Are you there?”
“I’m here,” you manage out.
“Well I guess I should say happy birthday.”
It’s incredible how such a sweet statement sounds bitter on her tongue.
“Thanks,” you reply.
“So, I’m guessing you must have been pretty busy this summer. That’s the only way to explain the radio silence since you left,” she says.
“Mom, I—”
“I’m talking now. Not you.”
You swallow. Thank God you skipped breakfast: you feel sick to your stomach.
“When are you coming back home?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” She laughs. “Well, you have to come back sometime.”
“Says who?” you snap.
There’s a tense silence. “Says me.”
You don’t speak. Suddenly, JJ’s stupid idea of running away seems incredible smart.
“I’m staying in Kildare for at least another month,” you tell her.
“At least?”
“Yes. At least.”
“And then what? You’re going to become a nomad? Hitchhike around the country?”
“And then…Then it’s none of your concern. It won’t be your problem; it’ll be mine.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” your mom says, tone sharp like broken glass. “You’re coming home the minute the summer ends.”
Your patience twists into something dark and unfamiliar. Rage clouds your vision and your mind.
“Home? Is that what you call that place? Because Colorado hasn’t felt like home to me ever, mom. Ever.”
“You’re making a big thing—”
“No, I’m not,” you snap. Getting to your feet, you begin to pace the room. “You don’t even want me there! You just want my money. You don’t want me. You don’t even pay attention to me!”
“I’m busy trying to keep us alive,” you mom argues.
“Alive? Is that what you call it?” You can’t help but laugh. “If that’s ‘alive’, mom, then I don’t want it.”
“Just…Look, we’re just saying things, alright? You can come home, and we can talk, and we can work things out,” she says, sounding more human.
But you can’t believe it. Can’t trust it. It’s like a glass that’s been broken over and over again. You can glue it together, keeping most of the pieces in place, but it’ll never be as beautiful as it was before. Your mom is forever tainted in your mind. The damage is already done.
Pressing your eyes shut, you take a deep breath. “I’m staying here, mom.”
She begins to say your name, but you cut her off.
“I’m staying in Kildare. I’m staying here with John B, and JJ, and Kiara. They’re taking care of me. I’m okay. I’m eating, and I’m earning money, and I’m safe. But I can’t come back to Colorado. Not until Rick leaves…”
You feel your lower lip tremble.
“And not until you get clean.”
She’s silent for a minute. A long, long minute.
“And what if I don’t want you to stay in Kildare?” she asks. Her voice is quiet when she says it, like she’s powerless. And maybe she is.
It doesn’t feel good when you reply, “then I’ll report you and Rick to the cops, for child neglect and drug dealing.”
When people play chess, there’s a certain moment that the game is won. Check and mate. It’s a strategy game. You feel the moment your mom realises she’s lost. Your final piece takes position, and she’s rendered useless. She can either surrender - and let you stay in Kildare without complaint or contest - or force your hand to knock her off the board with a quick phone call to the police.
“And you’re safe?” she whispers.
Your heart splinters. It wasn’t her fault she got addicted, but it was her fault that she wasn’t there for you when you needed her most. They say time heals all wounds and you pray that to be true.
“I’m safe,” you assure her, voice wavering.
She doesn’t speak for a few seconds.
Then, quietly, she says, “well, happy birthday. Just…don’t ignore me like that again. I need to know that you’re okay.”
You nod. The tears start to fall and you press your lips together. “Okay, mom. I’ll text you. I promise.”
Through a shaky breath, you feel the three words form on your tongue. Three words that you haven’t said to her since you left North Carolina. But before they can pass through your lips, she clicks off the line without another word. You let out a pained sob. It’s so strange to get everything you ever wanted, and nothing that you wanted at all.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Your birthday passes by in a blink.
After the phone call with your mom, you sobbed for an hour. John B came knocking and held you through it, and when you asked if it was okay for you stay for the foreseeable future, he seemed more than ecstatic. All we have is each other, now. There’s something strangely tethering about trauma.
Pope and Kiara came around in the early afternoon. She’d made the most incredible birthday cake. Sage green buttercream frosting with edible flowers arranged around the rim. In the centre it had 17 written in white icing. They sang happy birthday and lit the candles, and as you blew them out, you wished for JJ to show up. Apparently, nobody had heard from him lately. It filled your stomach with led.
After asking what you wanted to do, the four of you relaxed in the backyard. It was an excuse to drink and listen to music. Pope discussed the latest book he read with you as you rocked in the hammock. John B began to talk about the Royal Merchant. He’d seemingly become more and more enthralled in the shipwreck. Whilst you’d been at work, covering shifts for people affected by the hurricane, they’d been pursuing the whole Grady-white shipwreck. Turns out, it was all connected to the royal merchant and Big John. You weren’t sure how you felt about that revelation. The group also seemed to be dubious. So, when Kie fell into a discussion about the treasure hunt with your older brother, you happily tuned it out.
Around seven, Kie and Pope left. John B seemed pretty exhausted so he said he was going to get an early night. You agreed and trudged into your room, but sleep wouldn’t come no matter how drained you felt. As per routine, at ten, you slip into your crocs and head into the living room, sights set on the porch. You stop short. The porch light filters into the main bulk of the room.
“JJ,” you whisper to yourself.
Walking out, opening the door, you find him on the couch. For once, he’s facing the doorway. He looks up from his lighter that he’s been messing with and meets your gaze. At the sight of his lips twitching up at the corners, you break into a smile and rush over. Practically wrestle him into a hug. He laughs, wrapping his arms around you. The way he holds you feel holy. Two days apart and you felt like you were having withdrawal.
“Happy to see me?”
“Where the hell have you been?” you ask into his t-shirt.
He pulls away. You sit on his lap, looking down at him, surveying his face for injuries.
“I got roped into some shit with my dad,” he says.
“He didn’t…”
You can’t bring yourself to ask, but your hand outstretching, tracing his features for some sign of pain, finishes the question.
He shakes his head, taking your hand from his face to intertwine it with his own.
“No, no. Just had to keep him busy, really. Helped out at the harbour and shit. Dropped my phone in the water like a dumbass.”
Ah. That explains the radio silence.
JJ smiles up at you. “Anyway. I’ve back now.”
“Good,” you say. “I missed you.”
“Missed you too,” he mumbles.
One of his hands reaches up to play with a strand of your hair. He lets it go, it falls into the mess atop of your head, and he traces his fingers down your body before resting at your hip. All the while, JJ stares at you, taking you in like he’s taking in an eclipse. Like you’re something that deserves to be admired.
“Happy birthday,” he says.
You smile, bright like a supernova. “Thanks.”
“Good day?”
You’re not sure how to tell him about the greatest gift of all: your mom letting you stay in Kildare. So, you just nod dumbly. JJ picks the pendent of your necklace off your skin, inspecting it.
“Who got you this? It’s pretty.”
“My mistress,” you joke.
He rolls his eyes.
“John B.”
“It’s pretty,” he repeats, letting it sit against your skin once more. He lets his touch linger against your sternum. God, you missed him. “Kie’s cake good?”
“Mhm. There’s some left in the kitchen. I’ll get us some,” you say.
You move to climb off him to retrieve a couple of slices but JJ grabs at your hips, keeping you in place and capturing your attention once more.
“Gotta give you your gift first.”
JJ leans down to retrieve your present from under the sofa where he’s stashed it. He hands it to you, a brown paper parcel finished with garden string, with a foreign nervous smile on his face.
“I hope they’re the right ones.”
Confused by what he might mean, you begin to open it. The brown paper crinkles in your hands as you unwrap your present. A small, elated gasp falls out your mouth as you lay your eyes on a set of Winsor and Newton watercolour paints. You trace a finger over the silver tin as if to prove you aren’t hallucinating.
“You like ‘em?”
“Yes,” you whisper.
Winsor and Newton paints. The worlds that you can illustrate flash through your mind, igniting your imagination in ways that you haven’t experienced for years. You feel a quivering smile, overwhelmed with emotion for the paints and for the boy who bestowed them upon you, and look up. He’s smiling, watching you, and you lean forward to wrap your arms around his neck.
“I love them. Thank you, JJ.”
His arms wrap safely around your middle, pulling you against him in the embrace. You move your lips to his, sighing as you finally reconnect through the kiss. When you break apart, only a hair’s width between your mouth and his, you feel those same words from earlier today fly up and through you.
“I love you.”
You say it quiet and private, like a prayer.
His eyes falter to meet your own. There’s a nervous breath as he takes in your declaration.
“I love you too,” he breathes.
As you kiss, you feel your heart melt into liquid gold. For once in your life, things feel as though they’re falling into place. The rough brush of JJ’s tongue prying into your mouth has you tilting your head. You let him imbibe you. You treasure the way his rough hands, worn from work on the harbour, slip under your t-shirt. His touch is cold against your burning skin.
“What the fuck.”
Fool’s gold.
You startle at the interruption, head spinning to find John B stood on the porch. He’s gaping at you and JJ like he may have just seen a ghost. Disbelief and horror shadow his face.
“John…” you choke.
His eyes flit from you, from your lips, to JJ. To his hand still under your shirt. To his hand planted securely on your hip. To how you’re sat in his lap. To your own tethered into his hair. To your own wrapped lovingly around his neck. It’s as incriminating as finding a murderer holding the knife above a dead body. No excuse, no justification. Nothing. No alibi can save you now. It’s a clean and shut case.
“What the fuck is going on?” John B mutters. His thoughts seem to be catching up with him second by second. His chest begins to rise, anger flaring his veins, and his expression hardens. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Look, man, just—”
But your brother strides over and practically rips JJ out from under you. You hear yourself scream out as he shoves JJ onto the porch floor, landing a hard punch into his jaw. JJ takes the hits, doesn’t even try to fight back, only fumbles to try and push John B off him. You start to scream like a hysteric. Shriek for him to stop. Beg for him to. You grapple at John B’s shirt, trying to pull him off your boyfriend, as he lands hit after hit. The sound is sickening, of flesh hitting flesh. You feel tears fall down your cheeks in panic as he refuses to let up.
“Get off him, John!” you screech.
Finally, you pull him off. The two of you tumble to the floor.
JJ turns onto his side, coughing and spitting out blood, groaning in pain. He lifts a finger to dap at his lip, wincing as he draws it back to find it red. You go to help him, to check that there’s no lasting damage, but John B holds you back. He moves towards his best friend once more but you grab at his shirt.
“John, please don’t,” you blubber, trying to keep him away.
He swallows thickly and closes his eyes, taking a slow, measured breath to try and calm his rage. Then, he turns his head to you. The betrayal in his eyes makes you sob.
The sound of JJ’s groans has the attention back on him. He’s struggling to his knees, a hand coming to cradle his jaw.
“Shit, JB. You can throw a hell of a punch,” JJ mutters. He spits out more blood. It makes you cringe.
JJ gets to his feet. John B follows. You can’t find strength to get off the floor. Your eyes are transfixed for a while on the pool of blood where JJ laid.
“You promised me,” John B seethes.
You look up and finally muster the courage to stand. You watch as JJ looks to you. Can see how he wants to grab you and console you just like he used to when you were a child. Just like he did when you fell out of the tree. But his better judgement makes him decide against it.
“It’s not what it looks like, alright?” JJ tries, voice steady.
“Not what it looks like? What? You groping my little sister isn’t what it looks like?” John B barks.
JJ scowls. “I wasn’t groping her. And she’s hardly your little sister. You’re less than a year older than her!”
That pisses your brother off more. He takes a step towards JJ but you reach an arm out, stopping him.
“She’s vulnerable, JJ.”
You frown. Offense stings in your heart. Does he really think you so defenceless? So incapable of judging others for yourself?
“She’s seventeen, John B. She can make her own choices without you making them for her,” JJ argues. “She knows what’s in her best interest.”
“Oh? And you’re her best interest?” John B scoffs.
JJ’s gaze darkens. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
No. No, this is not helping. It’s only making matters worse.
“You know what I mean! You fuck a new girl every other week! You can’t keep your fingers off other people’s shit, you lie like you’ve been doing it since day one—”
“John-”
Your quiet plea goes ignored. John B takes another challenging step towards JJ. You can’t hold him back. He’s stronger than you. They both are.
“You’re gonna end up in a cell just like your dad and leave my sister as collateral when you get bored of sleeping with a girl whose been in love with you since she was a kid.”
JJ’s fist hits John B square on the cheek. John B hurls his own punch and they end up in some messy wrestle. They fall onto the coffee table and fumble out weak throws. Fear for what may happen to either of them makes you act with stupidity. You dart forward and try to pry them off one another. Somewhere in the chaos, a stray punch hits you in the nose. Pain blinds you. You yelp and fall backwards against the couch, hands flying up to your face. They stop. JJ utters your name.
When you pull your shaking hand away, you find it soaked with blood. Your chest heaves with panic as the pain sets in. JJ shoves John B off and comes to your side.
“S’alright, s’alright,” he soothes.
You’re not like JJ. You don’t take hits like it’s your day job. You’ve never been punched in your life. The last major injury you sustained was your broken arm, back when you were thirteen. Sobbing in pain, you feel yourself panic at the sight of flowing blood.
“S’okay. Lean forward, alright? You gotta lean forward,” JJ instructs.
He shifts you so you’re sitting on the floor, back against the sofa. You let him guide your fingers to the bridge of your nose and pinch at the soft skin. There’s the distant sound of John B rushing into the house. You don’t see it, though. Your eyes are pressed shut to not look at the blood.
“You feel okay?”
“I feel sick,” you mumble. And not just from the nosebleed.
“S’alright. It’ll stop soon,” JJ reassures.
He strokes your back lovingly, dragging your hair off your face as your head bows forward. You choke on the metallic taste that trickles into your other senses. God, everything is a mess.
“Here, here,” John B mutters.
You crack open your eyes to see him drop to his knees beside you. He hands JJ a towel. JJ lifts it to your nose, wiping some of the blood off your skin before holding it steady below your nostrils. It soaks with blood.
“Shit, should she be bleeding that much?” John B asks JJ.
“She’ll be fine,” JJ snaps. He probably doesn’t want to freak you out more. “It’s normal.”
And, eventually, after two towels are soaked, the blood flow slows to a stop.
“I think it’s stopped,” JJ mumbles.
You let him remove the towel. It feels risky to sniff. The smell and taste of blood is consuming and makes you feel nauseous. Tentatively, you try lifting your head. JJ and John B are staring at you. They’re nothing less than concerned.
“How do I look?” you croak.
JJ tries to fight it but fails. He sniggers, then John B does, and you find your own smile. Then the three of you are laughing like you’re drunk.
“That bad, huh?”
“Never looked hotter,” JJ lies through his laughter.
“Yeah���this isn’t your best look,” John B comments.
When the humour passes, you shake your head and look to John B. Like a storm at sea, his anger seems to have passed, not a sign that it was ever there on his face. JJ’s calmed down too. You know they’ll have to talk it out, the things John B said to him, but words said in fury are usually far from true. Cheap shots to try and hit JJ where it hurts. Brothers fight.
“I’m sorry we kept it a secret from you,” you say to John B.
His eyes slip shut like your apology pains him. Like you’re applying balm to his fresh wounds. Sighing, he opens them to ask, “how long has it been happening?”
You and JJ share a look. He clears his throat before answering. “About a month. Maybe a bit longer.”
“It started the third week after I came to Kildare,” you clarify.
John B exhales with disbelief. “No. No, that can’t be true.” Before you try and explain further, he’s looking to JJ. “You can’t keep your mouth shut for a whole fucking month.”
JJ cracks up. A smile creeps onto your face too. “I think it’s a new record, man, honestly.”
“Yeah, congrats,” John B grunts, rolling his eyes.
“We just didn’t want to tell you cause we know things have been weird since your dad went missing, and you’ve sort of been hooked on this Royal Merchant thing,” you say to your brother.
“And cause you sort of told me to specifically not date your sister,” JJ meekly tags on.
John B sends him a damning look. JJ cringes. “I mean, I’ve never been good at doing as I’m told so this is kinda on you. Just partly.”
“Careful,” John B warns.
You grab for your brother’s hand. A stray stream of blood slips from your nose and JJ lifts the towel to wipe it away. John B meets your gaze.
“We’re not just fooling around,” you say. As his brows knit together, you spare a glance to JJ as if trying to muster up courage. “I love him.”
John’s mouth falls open. You might as well have just told him you’re pregnant. He looks to JJ as if needing some clarification, and he just nods and shrugs, his expression something close to yep, it’s true.
“I just wish you guys told me,” John B eventually tells you. Then, laughing, he adds, “and how long were you even planning on keeping this up?”
“Well...We hadn’t really got that far,” JJ fumbles, scratching the back of his neck.
You all share a laugh. John B nods and looks between the two of you. Like a pill he must swallow, he accepts his fate. You’re not proud, but you wouldn’t change a thing. Taking the risk with JJ was the best choice you ever made.
“I don’t love it,” John B says. Then, with a pained sigh, he adds, “but I’ll get used to it.”
You and JJ immediately lock eyes; smiles of relief and elation sparking to life.
“But you hurt her, and I’ll lay you out,” John B warns JJ, in a stereotypical brotherly fashion.
JJ nods. He seems to know now that John B will uphold that promise to the highest degree. “Scout’s honour,” he swears, crossing his heart and holding up three fingers.
John B looks to your once more and offers you a hand. He helps you off the floor.
“Jeez. What a birthday. You found out you get to stay in Kildare and have a nosebleed all in one day.”
“Wait, what?” JJ barks.
Your head darts around to the blonde-haired boy.
“You’re staying in Kildare?”
Realisation dawns upon you. In the pandemonium, you’d forgotten to tell him. A sheepish smile settles on your face. “Oh yeah, um…I have some news.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Your bedroom door swings open as Kiara sings out, “morning lovebirds!”
JJ groans from beside you at the wake-up call. You crack open your eyes through the streaming sunlight and look to the doorway. John B’s head pops into view.
“Get up! We’re recovering a shipwreck!” he adds.
Kie grabs a sock from the floor and tosses it at your boyfriend.
“Get up,” she repeats.
The door slams shut and you chuckle, rolling onto your back and staring at the ceiling. JJ stirs from beside you. You feel his finger reach out to prod your cheek.
“Mornin’,” he rasps.
You look over to him, smiling sleepily. “Morning.”
“Sleep okay?”
“Like a Goddamn baby,” you grin.
He smiles at that. Sighing and groaning and making all kinds of fuss, JJ stretches in bed.
The two of you gradually emerge from your room. It’s hard to get dressed when your boyfriend keeps grabbing at your hips, sucking hickeys into your neck, stealing your bikini bottoms. There’s a persistent knocking at the door every five minutes from each of the Pogues, telling you to quit macking and get ready.
You wolf down breakfast at the dinner table, mulling over your latest painting. It’s of JJ’s back, arguably your favourite feature of him, when he used to sleep on the pull-out sofa. The room is bathed in moonbeams, bed made up of messy plaid blankets and mismatching pillows. The new paints make everything feel so lifelike and vivid. You’re debating adding faint pink lines to represent scratch marks on his back….
“Come on! We gotta go!” John B declares, drumming on your head as he passes you to the front door.
JJ finishes your Poptart as you text your mom a quick update for the day, and then the two of you join the Pogues in the Twinkie. He hooks an arm over your shoulder, holding you against him as you sit in the back with Pope. They fall into a debate about the scientific benefits of weed (JJ is, no surprise, in favour) whilst Kie and John B discuss tactics for finding the Royal Merchant. As you rest against your boyfriend, you smile and close your eyes. You finally found your home. You found it in Kildare.
#jj x reader#jj maybank x reader#obx#outer banks#obx fic#jj fic#jj x reader fic#outer banks preference#obx preference#outer banks fic#jj maybank#jj#jj x fem!reader#jj maybank x fem!reader#fem!reader#routledge!reader#jj x routledge!reader#jj maybank x routledge!reader#bestfriendsbrother!jj#bestfriendsbrother!jj x reader#bestfriendsbrother!jj x fem!reader#bestfriendsbrother!jj x routledge!reader
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re-hash
MINORS DNI 18+
WORD COUNT: 0.9k
WARNINGS: explicit sexual content | f!reader | established relationship | daddy kink | mild dacryphilia | size difference
JJ MAYBANK's no stranger to being called "daddy." It's practically one of the only things you wanna call him in bed, and something about it just hits. Maybe it's his own raging daddy issues, or the fact it signifies an authority figure, someone to look to. JJ likes calling the shots, and who better to call shots than Daddy? Before you'd introduced that petname to him, using it as a taunt was pretty common. In the midst of a fight, he'd tease his opponent with a little beckoning: "Tha's right, come to Daddy." If a variation was in order, he wasn't a stranger to switching it out for "Papa."
He didn't take into account how far it could go though. Addressing him as your daddy was commonplace, but while he's working on his bike, he gets introduced to something different.
"Pass me that, will you, duchess?" he asks, brows furrowed at the metal in concentration. He holds out his hand for you, and you walk while you read a little paperback book. The spine is weathered.
You hum confirmation, and toe over, plucking his tool from its location. Its hefty weight causes it to drop into his palm more than you meant to, but your focus is still on reading. "Here you go, pa."
He registers your words, and slows to a halt. Unlike him, you're invested in your story, index fingernail toying with your lip unconsciously. The crease in his brow deepens, tilting his head. "Uh," Looking at you through an eye because of the sun glare, upper lip raising to the corner of his nose like a curtain. "What was that, sugar?"
"Hm?" you question, raising your brows in question as you respond to his gaze with your own. "What'd I say?" You're not entirely sure what had occurred, the fresh words from your page still echoing in your mind.
"Called me 'pa.'" he reminds you, his twinge of southern twang apparent in his phrase. Unable to hold your eye contact, he glances down at the tool he fidgets with in his lap, picking off some dirt.
"I did?" In disbelief, you frown, a hint of embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking—"
He shakes his head. Minutely disappointed you didn't double down. "No, s'fine. S'fine." He pouts his lips, and twitches his nose when he sniffs, scratching it with the back of his hand. "No big deal, sweet pea, I don't mind it." He returns to his bike.
Later on, he doesn't let you get away with playing dumb. "What was it that you called me earlier?" His arms shake with effort, holding himself over your head as his hips rock into you, your legs folded up on either side of him. "Huh? Duchess?"
"JJ!" you chide, but it comes out in a sultry whine, your body bobbing with his movements as his dick lodges all up in your insides. "What are you talking about?" There you go playing dumb, and he won't have it. Callused hand slots itself in the crook of your knee, hooking your leg over his shoulder to stretch you out. You yelp when his head hits a new and deeper angle inside you.
"Nah, nah, don't be like that." he snickers breathlessly. "What'd you call me earlier? Know you wanna say it. Lemme hear it, bae, c'mon," He goads you, and you can tell his accent is more defined at a time like this. It's mouth-watering. Or his long cock rearranging your insides is.
His blonde curls fall into your face as he looks down, watching your cunt slurp him up while you cry out each full sheath. Moans are practically shoved out of you, like there's no room to keep them inside when he buries himself to the balls in your little cunt. Worsening his pace, slapping skin on skin because you're not obeying him.
"JJ, it hurts! It hurts!" you sob, clutching onto the fabric of his side slit shirt he still wears. He pushes your hand off of him, picking himself up to sit on his knees. He tucks the hem of his top between his teeth, displaying his contracting abs as he gets into position. Briefly, you're granted a reprieve, but that's only because he's switching things up on you, slotting his hands under your hip bones to raise you, biceps swelling from the action. Desperately, you catch your ragged breath, until he handles you back onto his dick. He doesn't reintroduce you to inch after inch, no, he bottoms out straight away, plunging his length into you while yanking you into it. You thought it was hell before, now you're near tears, mindlessly reaching out to him as if to wordlessly ask for a breather.
He keeps his hardened concentration where your bodies conjoin, a ring of cream forming around his base, and he scoffs through his nose. You thrash, but you're spasming around him. "Guess this pussy can take some abuse, huh?" he asks rhetorically, muffled by the shirt between his teeth. "So squirmy. She's flexible, I'll give her that. How's about it, baby, wanna tell me now?"
You fist bangs against his forearm, taut from his hold on you, fingers digging into your flesh as you fight him. "Pa! Pa, please! Ugh, you're so mean!"
He drops his shirt so he can speak clearer, "Yeah, but your Pa fucks you good, huh? Right? Pa fucks you nice, and good." Deliberately, he rolls his abdomen, and in turn, pistoning his cock into you in way that has your lashes fluttering. His movements, forcing himself to be slow and steady, causes him to shake from effort, every muscle flexed as he fucks you. Your leg still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder, and he feels your own tremble travel from your core to your toes. "Say it. Say it or I swear I'll tear you in two."
"You fuck me good, pa, you fuck me nice and good. Nobody does it like you, daddy, I swear."
#tw daddy kink#indy: drabbles#ch: jj#jj maybank drabble#jj smut#jj maybank smut#jj x reader#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x fem!reader#jj maybank x reader smut#jj x you#jj maybank x you#jj x y/n#jj maybank x y/n#jj imagine#jj maybank imagine#jj fic#jj maybank fic#jj fanfiction#jj maybank fanfiction#outer banks smut#outer banks x reader#reader insert
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— warnings: smut (m!receiving), overstimulation, strong language, i think that’s all.
❥overstimulation w/ jj
“i- shit, just like that baby, fuck” jj manages to breath out, his hips bucking up into your face harder as you bob your head up and down faster.
you wrap one hand around his shaft, the other lightly squeezing his balls as you suck at his tip, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head every so often, pushing him closer and closer to the edge of release.
you lift your head up, letting his cock slip from your mouth.
you tightly wrap both hands around him, stroking up and down at a slow pace as you stare down at the blonde beneath you.
“gonna cum f’me, j? you’re so close, i can feel it”
jj nods his head, bottom lip between his teeth, eyes squeezed shut as he concentrates on the feel of your hands stroking his throbbing cock.
“so fucking close, baby. feel s’good”
you smile darkly, wrapping your lips back around his cock, sucking and licking every inch of him until you feel his dick begin twitching in your mouth.
jj’s hands make purchase on the back of your head, fingers gripping your hair tightly as he bucks into your mouth, the hot, white, ropes of his release shooting down your throat.
he lets his head fall back into the pillows behind him, eyes squeezed shut as you help him ride out his high.
jj lifts his head to speak. “fuck baby, that was so- fuck”
you continue your sucking motions, causing jj’s head to fall back onto the pillows, fingers digging into the sheets as you suck faster and harder.
“b-baby, i- i don’t think i- fuck- i don’t have it in me anymore”
you hum against his cock, the vibrations pulling a low groan from his lips.
“baby, p-please, fuck”
you lift yourself up, stroking his cock with your hands as you speak lowly.
“you have at least one more in you, j. you can do it”
jj groans, trying to push your hands away but failing, his mind hazy from how overstimulated you have him already.
you lower your lips back to his cock, licking a stripe up his shaft, swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip before pushing him back down your throat.
you slightly gag when his tip kisses the back of your throat, hollowing your cheeks and moving your head up and down his length at a slow pace.
“baby, it- fuck- it’s too much”
you look up at him through hooded eyes, he’s slack jawed, eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving up and down as you continue the rhythm with your mouth.
“baby, i- i’m close, fuck”
you lightly squeeze at his balls, trying to help push him towards his second release.
jj begins to sloppily buck his hips, his dick twitching as he releases down your throat for the second time that night.
you pull yourself up, wiping your mouth and smiling down at the blonde.
his chest is heaving up and down, hands rested behind his head as he tries to catch his breath.
“that was fucking hot”
you giggle, leaning down to place a kiss on his lips.
“good. i thought you’d probably think it was a bit much.”
“no baby, it was hot. i love you” jj says, placing another kiss to your lips.
“i love you too, j”
jj masterlist | taglist form
#jj maybank#jj x reader#jj maybank fic#jj maybank smut#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank x you#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank brainrot#jj maybank x reader#jj smut#jj fic#jj imagine#jj blurb#obx smut#obx fic#obx#obx x reader#obx jj#obx jj maybank
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✮ 17. scratching — jj maybank MDNI
“damn jj did a cat attack you?” john b asked, walking past the blonde and into the kitchen to start breakfast.
“what the fuck are you talking about?” jj mumbled, still groggy from just waking up as he ran his hands over his face.
before the two could continue the conversation, the bedroom door to jj’s unofficial room opened, your sleepy figure walking out with a blanket wrapped around your figure.
“hi baby,” you yawned, opening your arms to invite him in as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “hi john b.”
“nevermind, got my answer,” john b laughed, causing you to furrow your brows as you pulled away from your boyfriend.
“oh,” jj smirked, finally understanding as he turned around to show you his bare back, red marks decorating his smooth skin as you gasped quietly.
“my girls a freak.”
“jj!” you and john b yelled at the same time, causing your boyfriend to shrug with a shit eating grin on his face.
“don’t deny it, babe.”
kinktober tag list 🏷️ @angelofcigs @courtneykindasleepy @dustbunniess @thelomlisrafecameron @cupcakebrisblog @sickofitall31 @liliawritesss @ho3forfakeguys @highjadelolxo @jackchampionsbbg @jdswifee @olivia091108 @tv3verett @ch9mpi0n @20braced22 @unlikelykidwizard @thefriendlygeist @alltoomay @julesmendoza890 @mazzystarwhor3 @simpleyjaz @colsongunkelly @chvpion-jack @heheyhey @spectr3inl0ve @rafescokenostril @eventualoptimism @starkeysheart @nowitsmissing @pedrisgatorade @everythingjjmaybank @yourfavnatsblog @jjmaybankswifes-blog
#rafeysbafey’skinktober#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank fanfic#obx jj#jj obx#jj outer banks#jj maybank#jj x reader#jjsmut#jj fic#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank smut#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank imagines#jj maybank x you
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Hi! Outer Banks request here:
Could you please write a JJ Maybank smut where the reader is John B's ex? One day JJ is at a party without the pogues and he's a little bored because there nothing really interesting going on, so he goes to the only familiar face he sees: the reader.
and it's their first time seeing each other after a looong time, and idk maybe the reader has like more confidence than before so they start to drink together (just a bit not enough to get drunk) and they ended up having like giggly sex.
make-outs & mai tai’s — j.m.
summary : you, john b’s ex, happen to run into jj maybank- john b’s best friend. will a couple of mai tai’s cause you to explore your deepest and dirtiest fantasies, or will you remember that “bro-code” does exist? 18+, smut,
pairing : jj maybank x fem!kook!reader
a/n : first of all, i’m horrible at writing summaries 😭 but second and most importantly, thank you so so much for being my first request!!! and my first story!!! i can’t wait to write so much more but for now, i hope you all enjoy this story!!! reblogs are greatly appreciated :) !!
you were a kook. he was a pogue. you lived on different sides of the island, and were never supposed to be seen with one another. that was until he showed up at your job for the third time asking for your phone number.
if you were to ask anyone, they would say you and john booker routledge were absolutely inseparable from that point on. the two of you were seen around the island almost every day; going on dates, hanging out at the beach, and all that fun stuff.
that was until john b meet sarah cameron, the kook princess. they began to hang out every day, which used to be a plot to get information about the royal merchant, until they shared a passionate kiss on the ferry dock.
although you two ended on good terms, you rarely spoke, which means you didn’t speak to any of the other pogues either; at least not until tonight, where you were going to attend the annual bonfire. you sat at your vanity applying your lip gloss when you got a text from your friend.
savannah: be there in ten!
you grabbed your purse and made your way to the white jeep pulling up to your doorstep.
“ready to get shit-faced tonight?”, savannah asked rolling down the passenger side window while you rolled your eyes and opened the door. “no one is getting shit-faced tonight, especially not you”, you replied buckling your seatbelt as she stepped on the gas.
— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
savannah pulled up to the lot as you put your phone in your purse and squinted at the bright fire that burned ahead. “ok so before we get out, some of the girls said that john b was gonna be here”, she said unbuckling her seatbelt and turning towards you.
“okay, whatever i guess”, you said chuckling and pulling your compact out of your bag to check your makeup one final time.
“so you’re not bothered by that? because if you want to leave then we can totally leave, your call.”
“we’re not enemies, savannah. we ended things on good terms, remember?’
“okay then, let’s get our party on!”
you stepped out of the car, scoping the scene, before making your way over to your other friend, emery, by the cooler. she greeted you with a warm hug and a canned mai tai while the three of you got lost in conversation.
meanwhile, on the other side of the fire, the pogues were drinking beer out of plastic cups, looking around at their rather drunk peers.
“ok, i’m gonna be honest and just say that this is seriously lame”, jj maybank announced to the crew and took the last swig of beer out of his cup. “you didn’t have to come you know”, an annoyed kiara replied. “but he is right jb, this is pretty lousy”.
“look, sarah’s here and there’s plenty of beer to last a couple more hours, so why don’t we at least try and have a good time”, john b replied as he threw his arm around kie. jj rolled his eyes and looked towards the cooler, when he saw you holding a can, laughing and talking to some other kooks. he smirked and made his way towards you as he saw your friends running off with topper.
“care for another mai tai, m’lady”, jj asked as you turned around, shocked at the sight in front of you.
“well, well, well”, you smiled, letting a tiny laugh escape from your lips. “if it isn’t jj maybank.”
“in the flesh”, he smiled, extending his arm out to hand you another can. “i noticed you were standing alone; thought i might give you some company”.
“well please accompany me somewhere more quiet”, you said laughing and taking a sip from your new can. jj smirked and said “come on, i have somewhere we can go”.
you took his hand as you guys walked down the lot towards the beach. “so, what brings you to this party”, you asked jj. “because if i’m being totally honest, i did not expect you to be here”.
“why not?”
“i don’t know, i just…i guess i thought that things like these weren’t really your scene.”
“they’re not.”
“then why’d you stick around?” you took another sip.
“i was going to leave” he paused, “but then i saw you.” you glanced over at him and smiled lightly while taking another sip.
“so, how’ve you been? it’s been a while y’know?”
“good, why’d you ask?”
“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking about you lately.”
“aww, i’ve been on your mind, cupcake?”
you smiled and took another sip of your mai tai. “maybe just a little.”
jj laughed to himself as your feet hit the sand. “just a bit further”. you eventually found a nice spot on the sand and wobbly took a seat.
“woah there, pretty girl, don’t fall now.” you laughed, sipping your mai tai once more and looked him in his eyes. “why do you keep giving me all these nicknames?”, you ask, slurring your words and taking the last sip of your drink.
“do you want me to stop?”
“you could do anything you wanted to me and i would never ask you to stop,” you said with a chuckle as you moved a little closer to him.
“well someone’s feeling a little confident tonight, aren’t you?”
“oh c’mon j, somewhere deep down, i know you know i’ve always had a little thing for you.” and whether it was the mai tais or not, you know what they say: drunk words are sober thoughts. and with that being said, jj swiftly put his hand to your cheek, and pushed your hair behind your ear.
“did you really mean that?,” he caressed your cheek as you leaned in closer to him. “when you said i could do anything i wanted, and you would never ask me to stop?”.
“well we’re here now, aren’t we?”
jj stared at you, and as he opened his mouth to say something, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. while he was surprised, he moved both of his hands to your hips and kissed you deeper. both of you continued to deepen the kiss as jj took the reigns and laid you down on the sand.
“wait, wait, wait,” you said as jj kept kissing your neck. “what if john b finds out?” jj raised his head and thought for a second, that swift thought followed by: “well that’s not really his problem now, is it?”
“i guess not, pretty boy,” you pulled him down to you buy his collar as you continued kissing each other, more hunger and passion followed by each kiss. you unbuttoned his shirt while he started taking off your shirt. “lift your hips for me, baby,” jj asked, unbuttoning your shorts to follow. if you weren’t already drooling at sight of him, you were positive you were now. you tried to hold back your moans as he swiftly pulled your shorts and panties down your legs, but with how close the two of you were, jj was sure to pick up on every last sound you made.
“oh no, cupcake, don’t hold back now. i want to hear all your pretty sounds,” he kissed a trail down your body as he buried his head in between your thighs. you moaned and tugged his hair as he kissed your heat and licked up and down your sweet spot. your body began to convulse as you felt yourself reaching your release.
“j- fuck, i’m almost there,” you moaned out, not caring about your volume as your back arched in immense pleasure. “let go for me, sweet thing.” your breath hitched as you sucked in a sharp breath, allowing your eyes to roll back in pleasure, finally reaching your climax. you steadied your breathing while jj kissed his way back up to your mouth.
“that was…amazing,” you spoke, regaining your breath. “oh, we’re not done yet, baby girl,” jj replied with a shit-eating grin. “trust me,” you said, reaching down to unbuckle his belt, “i know.” jj let out a small chuckle as he released himself from his boxers, smirking at your reaction to his length. “mmph, i want you so bad,” you moaned out as you kissed him, a string of saliva attached to your lips as you broke free from each other.
“you sure about this, cupcake?,” jj asked, caressing your cheek. you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and kissed him once more. “i’m absolutely positive, j. i need you.” without a second thought, jj slid himself inside you, both of you moaning at the sensational feeling you just shared.
“geez princess, you feel so good,” jj moaned on your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. you moaned as you gripped on to his shoulders, tapping twice to signal faster pace. as jj sped up, you could feel yourself tighten around him as he twitched inside of you.
“j, i’m close,” you whimpered as you felt him graze your g-spot, eyes rolling back at the glorious feeling.
“i know baby, me too, comin’ up right behind you,” jj replied, slurring his words. he sped up a bit more, making him more and more irresistible to you. your nails scratched down his back as you tried to utter out the words “i’m coming”, but instead were muffled by your pleasurous moans. jj pushed deeper inside you, following close behind. you two shared a breathy kiss while jj started to kiss down your neck, helping you get cleaned up. once the two of you regained composure, you sat up and watched the waves.
“that was… truly something,” you said sighing. jj looked over at you and chuckled, saying “trust me, i know.” you and jj watched the waves for a second before you both looked over to see the bonfire spot emptying.
“looks like everyone’s heading out,” you mentioned, while checking your phone to see two text messages from savannah. “shit, my friends are about to leave, i should probably go”.
“me too, me and the gang have an early surf sesh tomorrow,” jj mentioned while he stood up, extending his hand for you to grab as he pulled you off the sand. you two held hands and walked towards the bonfire, but you stopped him before you got to close to the crowd.
“hey thank you for tonight, i had a lot of fun,” you said swinging your interlocked hands back and forth as jj spotted his friends near the parking lot. you looked down as your feet as you said “it was nice getting to see you again. i probably won’t for a while.” jj laughed as he let go of your hand and grabbed your waist tightly, pulling you towards him. you choked on a breath as you abruptly placed your hands on his shoulders for support, looking deep into his eyes as he caressed your cheek. “you’re a very funny girl, you know that?”, jj questioned as your eyebrows tilted in confusion.
“you think after tonight i’m just gonna let you run off with some other guy?” you tried to tell him off but stuttered as he forced deeper eye contact between you two. “you’re mine now, cupcake. and if i have to see you every single day to remind you, best believe you’ll be seeing a lot of me.” you smirked as jj pulled you in for the last kiss of the night. “you have a good night,” he winked as he walked off towards his friends. you exhaled as you spun on your heels, walking to go find your friends.
little did you know that tonight would be the night you became jj’s girl. forever.
#jj maybank drabble#jj smut#jj maybank smut#jj x reader#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x fem!reader#jj maybank x reader smut#jj x you#jj maybank imagine#jj fic#jj maybank fic#jj fanfiction#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank fanfiction#outer banks#outer banks smut#outer banks x reader#obx fic#obx fanfiction#obx x reader#obx cast#jj obx#jj obx imagine#jj obx fic#swiftsrqmantic
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Silent cry
As you read the invitation in your hand you felt like you got hit by a truck. An audible gasp escaped your lips as you processed what you were reading. JJ was getting married and it wasn’t to you.
You and JJ were on and off for years until it finally became too much for both of you. But all you wanted in life was his love. You had brought up marriage several times over the course of your relationship. Sometimes he would have an excuse. Sometimes he would just tell you what you wanted to hear. But most of the time his response was “you know I’m not that kind of guy.” A part of you had desperately hung onto the hope that he would just wake up one day and change his mind and the two of you would live happily ever after.
As you were getting ready for his wedding it still felt surreal to you. This had to be a nightmare. You didn’t even really know why you were going. You told yourself it was for closure. But JJ himself said he wasn’t the marriage type so would he even go through with it?
“Y/N I’m so glad you came!” JJ suddenly greeted you with a hug. “Yeah of course. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” You smiled back while hiding your true feelings. He left as quick as he came up to you. It was a bittersweet feeling seeing him so happy. It was a happiness you knew he never felt with you. And in that moment it did provide closure in a stinging way. You could never provide JJ the happiness he needed or deserved. While your heart still ached at the realization he’d never be your husband you were glad he found his happiness.
#outer banks#outer banks fic#outer banks imagine#jj maybank#jj maybank drabble#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank obx#jj maybank outer banks#jj maybank x reader#jj x reader#jj fanfiction#jj outer banks#jjk x reader#jj x you#jj fic#jj obx#obx fanfiction#obx imagine#obx fic#obx x reader#obx#outer banks angst#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks one shot#outer banks blurb#jj maybank fic#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank angst#jj maybank one shot#jj obx fic
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Hey I got a request for jj
That jj is a single dad to a baby girl and he is to scared to hold because he will think he will drop her and John b everyday will try and get jj to hold her then one day jj was holding her on his chest then he takes her everywhere With him hope that make sense
Koala Care
dad!jj x fem!reader x daughter
a/n ahh this is so cutie! thank you for the request anon, love you bunches!
desc JJ holds his baby girl for the first time
wc 1.2k
warnings cursing, grammar, fluff
"Peaches?" JJ comes in through the back door of the chateau, carefully shutting it behind him as he walks through the kitchen to set down a box full of baby supplies.
The usual. Diapers, baby food, her favorite yogurt melts, more of his old band & surf t-shirts to wrap her up in.
He notices Aria crying her eyes out behind him in between the white rails of her bed. he must have forgotten to change her when he left. He also noticed it was pissing off John B who was trying to work on something probably useless and he caught the hint that he's been listening to her cry for at least an hour.
"Shit," he mutters, messing with his backwards hat as he turns his attention away from Aria for a split second to glance at John B. Turns out he was fixing a cooler for the boat.
"Bro." he goes over to him, kicking him in the leg slightly, "You seen Y/n? I really need her help knowing what measurements of tit milk I'm supposed to feed mini me."
John B rolls his eyes to the ceiling as he screws in the side of the cooler handle.
"First of all," he says through a gritted tone from a bolt in between his teeth.
"You gotta stop with the teenage boy, language wording shit."
He spits out the bolt and screws another nail into the bottom.
"You're like a dad now. Its your dick and your daughter, buddy. You really want your kid to go around saying, tit milk?"
JJ tuts. "Bro she cant even talk yet. Plus, I don't remember half the shit i said as a fucking baby. Maybe thats cause my dad probably beat the shit out of me where I like- lost half my cells, but i ain't changing. Plus, daddy will raise her to be the best hooker of man kind. Shes a Pogue, shes not gonna be a goody two shoes if my life depends on it."
John B turns his head around and gives him a look.
"Jesus Christ JJ, did anything click when your girlfriend popped a living thing out of her ass?" He purses his lips.
JJ points his lips downwards and shrugs.
"Or are you always gonna be known as the dad who raised a stripper?" John B rolls his eyes again, taking a weird clear plate out of his box, "Y/n is a doctor for fucks sake, she's the only hope for raising her I swear to God."
John B shakes his head, "I've told you everyday now. You haven't even held her yet."
JJ grips his hat, "Thats because im gonna drop the kid!"
John b slaps his forehead.
"You're litterally her DAD, JJ! Y/n popped a baby out of her kitty sack and you seriously didnt even touch her the day she was born." John B raises his eyebrows. "Do you remember that? Y/n cried in Kie's room FOR AN HOUR thinking you didnt want the kid!"
JJ opens his mouth to respond then stops.
"Whatever. Go back to fixing your cold box and shit," He turns his back to walk away.
John B changes the tip on his screwdriver, "You're gonna have to hold your own ass daughter eventually, dude."
"I hope you screw a nail in your dick!" JJ calls out and tuts again, mumbling under his breath, "teaching me how to handle my own kid..."
"im the one fixing this goddamn cooler so you can drink your shit ass blue moon chilled!" John b yells back, JJ opening the door and slamming it shut to try and find you again.
"y/nnnn," he groans, calling out your name, finding you sitting on the steps outside.
He kneels down and wraps his big arms around you, kissing the side of your head gently.
"Hi baby," he mutters, "How was work?"
you felt your head pulsating before forcing yourself to give a response.
"Hmmm fine. it was busy."
"Yeah?" he strokes your head, "Real quick."
You sigh slightly, "Hmm?"
"how much ti-" He stops, and clears his throat.
"How much milk do I need to feed Ari?" He says in a soft voice, knowing you had a blaring headache from your shift.
You exhale, leaning your arms on your knees.
"theres about 7 oz in the fridge."
He nods, "thank you sweets," he kisses your hair one last time before leaving you in peace to rest your mind.
He goes back inside the chateau, opening the fridge and taking out the bottle, reaching over Aria's crib and putting the tip to her mouth.
"there we are, sweet girl.." he holds the back of her head while she drinks gently, her cries settling down.
After Aria is finished, he stares at her for a moment.
Why was it so hard for him to hold his own daughter? He feels a wave of guilt floods over his spine.
He reaches his hands out, then stops.
"God damnit," He sighs.
"Okay." He stares at Aria one more time. "3, 2.."
"Fuck this."
He picks Aria up gently in his arms, his heart jumping as he does so.
"Holy shit," he breathes. "Oh my God."
He holds her to his chest, making sure to support her back, something he learned in a parenting book he found online as he feels his soul melt in his stomach.
"There we go," he coos softly, rocking her up and down gently.
"Hi love." he holds her up to look in her eyes with the biggest grin on his face.
"You have your mommas eyes, don't you?"
It's like he fell in love with you all over again. Just this time, it was a baby. And it was his baby.
He holds her to him again, hearing you opening the screen door to come back inside the chateau as he looks at you with the stupidest smile on his face.
"JJ.." you breathe, a grin full of your white perfect teeth filling the room as you jog over to him.
You rub his arm gently as you stare at Aria in JJ's arms.
"im so glad." You said, tears slightly filling the bottom of your eyes as your breath catches in your throat.
"She has your eyes," He repeats the observation he made earlier.
You nod with a sniffle, chuckling slightly.
"She has your lips."
JJ presses another soft kiss into the side of your neck.
A few days later, you noticed that JJ dorkily bought one of those baby carrier things to attach to your chest, and you had to admit it was pretty cute seeing Aria giggle with him, taking her everywhere he went.
John B was relieved her finally built up the balls to hold his kid, and if you were honest, you were relieved too.
Kiara bullied him everyday for taking Aria with him everywhere because the baby holder he chose was literally hot pink. Really hot pink.
He was so happy everyday. To be the dad that he never had. The one he had prayed and wished for everyday as a kid.
JJ was such a tough guy, tough face, tough love, tough soul.
but I guess not when it came to you and Aria. You and her were his new world and there was nothing in the entire universe that could take that away from him.
☆ divider & gif credits to @viixcyre @baby-bearie
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for my mental wellbeing PLS PLS PLS PLS write dad to be jj again
i beg of you. i was literally in a depressive episode and reading ur last jj fic was such a pick-me up. (ps ty for that 😭)
i LOVE u & i hope ur okay love
pairing; dadtobe!jj x pregnant!fem!reader
warnings; fluff, mentions of pregnancy, throwing up, talk of feet if thats a trigger for some, suggestive
authors note; came up with this earlier. hope this helps you, even if it's a little bit.
Hell has frozen over and JJ Maybank is folding laundry.
Really, he's only doing it so he can see the small animal patterned baby socks and the wholesome footy onsies. You'd washed them in preparation, as the nursery is adorned with all things baby, and your due date is to come any day now. Creeping it's way in, however pregnancy has been somewhat of a breeze with JJ at your beck and call.
Even if you are blowing chunks in the morning, he's breaking his rest in bare skin to hold your hair and press kisses to your spine.
"S'okay baby, still so pretty.” Is something along the lines of what he typically says, unbothered by the miraculous bile that ejects from your insides— using the nearest towel to clean you up earnestly and eagerly, he couldn’t fathom his baby appearing so helpless. Carrying your limp body back to bed, in his broad, bulky arms, insisting that you rest and not move a muscle.
He is so overly passionate when it comes to soon to be family.
He’s adapting to being a father, but he’s still the same old JJ.
“Do you think babies know they’re babies?”
You sat beside him on the fluffed out couch, nose crinkled in a manner of ‘what the hell are you talking about now’. JJ awaits your answer, absentmindedly folding a small pair of new born pants. The clothes basket is about half way full now and it’s taken him an hour to simply get that done, admiring the baby clothes and dreaming of when he gets to swallow the child whole with his enamoured ways.
“What, JJ?” You sighed exasperatedly, his antics peeling beneath your skin as he’s been doing this the lot of the time being seated here. Though he’s folding laundry his finger tips still find their way to your inner thigh, squeezing at the flesh with ease. Unable to go through extended periods of time without the proximity of your fiery being.
Always touching, explains the reasoning behind you being pregnant.
“Like what if our baby thinks-“
“JJ …” he knows he’s irked those pregnant hormones a bit too far from the rolling of your eyes and the way you keep saying JJ in protest for him to ‘stop talking about something so overly stupid’. Usually there’s so much patience in your voice when a ‘J’ rolls off your tongue calling his name. “I don’t know what you’re talking about … my fuckin’ feet hurt, my head is pounding, and I feel like a Goddamn whale.”
JJ eyes bulge, gesturing his hands in a surrendering way for he knows that any little thing that agitates you in the slightest will send you over the edge— breaking closer and closer to being dilated and in a hospital room. But, he never holds it against you, acknowledging that you mean no harm, merely in aching pain every growing hour.
Kind of like a shut up while you’re ahead sort of thing.
“Sexiest Goddamn whale I've ever seen," he tries to compliment, throwing a onesie to the side, the darting of your eyes makes the mischievous smirk on his face grow all the more wider.
There's always an urge of neediness behind every smirk.
His index finger traces your cheek bone to gain your full attention rather then the slim phone in your hands, a pout is beginning to form and it's making JJ's heart burst.
"M'not in the mood J, my belly's just gonna' get in the way."
"Never, your belly would make it even better ... but that's not the route I was taking baby, let me show you, yeah?"
And you nod willingly letting him take the pain away. JJ's dropping to his knees, keeping your complaint in mind that your 'fuckin' feet hurt.' Though your eyebrows furrow, you decided not to question, wishfully hoping for his contact despite it.
Pushing the throw blanket that was in your lap to the side, he puckers his lips around your knee. Practically worshipping the legs in front of him. Peering up at you with sensuous eyes, short-lived as he molds his mouth with the skin of your calves, granting each and every inch of skin with solicitous osculating kisses. Delicate with the way his large hands hold them upright to meet his mouth. Suctioning and delving all he could possibly reach.
"Thank you for carrying our sweet baby."
His voice sent goosebumps, vibrations of his heavy voice elevating to the point of you not being unable to muster a 'you're welcome' or 'of course'. Instead, your head falls back to collide with the couch cushion, eyes closing. Relishing in every empyrean like movement your lover ignited; heaven bled through every sullen kiss.
It came to a halt and know he's kneading your feet, oh so soft, lathered thick of a vanilla musked lotion. From the big toe to the heel his knuckles massage the foot, almost melting the swelling away like clockwork.
"Feel better, baby?"
"Feels so much better, J."
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her lips on your neck — j. maybank
meant to have this up last night, but i got fucked up lolz
❝ since you admitted it,
i keep picturing
her lips on your neck,
i can't unsee it ❞
pairing: cheater!jj x fem!reader
context: late at night, you get back to the obx from a week-long trip to new york with your parents and decide to surprise your boyfriend and best friends.
words: 1.4k+
warnings: cheating (i don't condone it!!), might break you, no happy ending, ANGST ANGST ANGST
"what the fuck are we suppose to tell y/n?" you hear pope mention your name, as he sat with john b in the enclosed back porch of the chateau and immediately stop yourself from joining them, curious as to what else they had to say.
"dude, i don't know," john b shrugged at him, the expression on his face looking as if he was torn between some hard decision.
what could they possibly be talking about?
"i mean, it's not like they meant for it to happen, right?" john b continued, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of something.
"do you really think she'll see it that way?" pope asks him. "jj just slept with kie."
john b winces at pope's words like they were too hard for him to hear and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach, your eyes becoming blurry with tears as anger starts coursing through your veins.
"we gotta tell her," pope adds.
they didn't even hear that you'd entered the porch, now only standing a few feet away from them.
"you just did." the sound of your voice causes them to snap their heads towards you, both of them now completely at a loss for words. "is jj here?" you speak slowly to stop your voice from shaking.
when neither of them reply and just exchange glances, you repeat yourself. "where's. jj."
"y/n…" john b starts to stand from his seat, but you don't let him finish or get any closer, before you're barging into the chateau.
you feel your body shake as jj comes out of one of the rooms chuckling and pulling his muscle tank down.
"you didn't," you shake your head as he looks at you.
"y/n…"
when kiara comes out of the same room and steps up behind him, you get your answer.
"you did," you say, your eyes shifting from kie to jj.
"babe, i-" jj begins, taking a step towards you.
"no," you immediately cut him off and hold a hand out in front of you to stop him from getting any closer. “we’re done.”
that was two weeks ago. you hadn’t seen jj, or your friends since then, actively trying to avoid them as much as possible. that didn’t stop them from texting though.
john b and pope have checked in every now and then to make sure you’re doing okay, while kie and jj blow your phone up 24/7 with empty apologies.
j<3: i’m outside. please let me explain.
you stare at the text on your phone for a second and hop to your feet to peek out the window, where surely enough, you saw jj perched against his bike on the curb of your front lawn, waiting.
letting out a deep sigh and against your better judgment, you walk towards the front door and open it, only to find that he had walked up your front porch and was about to knock.
“hey…” his voice is small, and his baby blue eyes light up at the sight of you, making your heart ache.
by the prominent eye bags under them, you could tell he hadn’t gotten much sleep either. but wasn’t that how it should have been? he was the one who cheated on you.
you don’t say a word and just turn to walk further into your living room, jj following after you and shutting the door.
“i know you don’t owe me anything,” he continues, as you turn to look at him again, your arms crossed across your chest.
“you’re right, i don’t,” you say, trying to be cold.
it was hard, though. there was a piece of your heart that still yearned for him. a piece that you had a feeling would love him forever. no matter how badly he’s just screwed you over.
“why’d you do it?” you ask.
“i don’t know,” he shrugs. “i don’t know why i did it. we were drinking… and talking… you weren’t here, and i- i guess we just…”
“what?” you feel your hand start to shake as he tried to come up with an excuse. “got caught up in the moment?”
“y- yeah…” he glances down, and you scoff.
“god, i am such an idiot!” you run your hands through your hair and take a seat on the armchair behind you.
“y/n that’s not…” he slowly approaches you while you shake your head at him.
“i should’ve known,” you say. “it was her before me.”
jj shakes his head as he closes the distance between the two of you and crouches down in front of you, a hand landing on your knee. “baby, that’s not true.”
you glance at his hand on your knee before looking at him again. “but it is.”
“look, i fucked up, okay?” he said, his tone desperate now. “i know that. but please… please believe me when i tell you that it was a mistake. and it’s never going to happen again.”
“how can i believe that?” you ask, tears threatening to brim along your lower lashes.
“just trust me,” he tells you.
a bitter scoff falls from your lips as you stand up and cross the room, half angry and half confused, not knowing what to think or believe.
“i did trust you, j!” you say, turning to look at him again with tears in your eyes as he gets up from his crouching position and faces you. “and you screwed me over anyway.”
“y/n…” he walks towards you, and you feel your weight shift to one foot, your body feeling a little limp.
there was a part of you that still loved him—feelings don’t disappear just like that—but you knew you deserved better. that there was someone out there who wouldn’t even think about doing what he did.
"i love you…" he brings a hand up to caress your cheek and push your hair back, your first instinct causing you to lean into his touch, a sad smile pulling at the corner of your lips as you lock your eyes with his. "pretty girl." he closes the distance between you two, his forehead resting against yours, a tear trailing down your cheek as you closed your eyes. "i am so so so sorry. i promise— i promise, i won't ever hurt you again."
you wanted nothing more than to believe him. to forgive him. to forget. but you knew, deep down, that wasn't possible.
you shake you hear against his, sniffling. "j, i can't…"
"no, no, no," he replied. "you can. you— you have to, i can't-" he tilts his chin upwards to kiss you, and though you want desperately to let him, you push him away.
"no, jj!" you shout. "you— you can't just kiss me and think it's all gonna go away!"
"okay, okay, i'm not," he backs off a little, and then takes your hands in his, baby blues pleading. "but you need to forgive me. i could never live with myself if you didn't. i— i can't go on without you… without…" he brings your hands together and clasps his hands around them as he brings them up to his lips to kiss them softly. "your touch…" he moves a hand towards your cheek again, caressing it just like last time. "your smile…" he trails it across your collar bone and down your arm to place it on your chest. "your love… god, y/n i’ve never been loved by anyone like you."
his face falls limp against you and he drops to his knees, arms immediately locking around your hips as he rests the side of his head against you.
"please… please forgive me," his voice sounds desperate now, breaking your heart even more.
"i— i can't…" you wrap your hands around his arms and try to pull him off you, but it doesn't work—he just clutches onto you tighter. "you're just not the same person to me anymore…" you shake your head. "the jj i fell for would've never ever done anything to hurt me, but now…" you bring your hands up to your head, trying to keep it together. "god! every time i look at you… all i see is her and what you did… i— i just keep picturing you guys together and-"
"and we can fix that," jj pulls away and gets back on his feet to look at you. "i mean, it's gon' take time, but eventually… you— you can forget it, right?"
there was a hopeful look in his eyes, but you knew that wasn't enough to fix things.
you shake your head and sigh, the hope in his eyes immediately diminishing. "no, i don't think i can."
"but that— that would mean that this…" his voice cracks, his mind clearly in disarray as he motions a hand between you two. "no. this can't be over."
your watery eyes lock with his, which were now red from holding back tears. "then why is it?"
if you happen to also be a rafe girl, consider this part 2 & part 3.
reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33
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rumours (fic)
jj maybank x grumpy!fem!reader | HEAVILY inspired
content warning: mentions of drinking and smoking; absent parents
word count: 20k.
blurb: your life has been surrounded by rumours, and so has JJ Maybank's. One night, out of the blue, he strikes up a conversation with you. From there, the rumours only grow, and some rumours are far worse than others.
There was a rumour that you and your sister weren’t allowed to date until graduating high school. That one was true, until March of Junior Year.
Kildare Academy was full of spoilt assholes.
Well, in fairness, not everyone fit into that category. Some people were spoilt but bearable, and some people were assholes but not particularly spoilt. Rafe Cameron was the perfect culmination of both. He was in your junior year despite being a senior. He flunked so hard last year that the academy insisted that he retake it to graduate with a subpar diploma. At the yacht club, it had been the talk for about two months, much to the displeasure of Ward and Rose Cameron. You’d found yourself sharing nearly every class with Rafe since the year started and, man oh man, was it torture.
He found you the perfect bear to poke, never passing the opportunity to make a jab about your clothes or your face or your overall demeanour. The latter to mean that you weren’t the most approachable of people. Whilst you self-described as tempestuous, others might prefer the term ‘heinous bitch’. Rafe Cameron knew how to push your buttons it seemed, and you in turn knew how to bite back just enough to leave a mark.
“I can’t wait to get out of this town,” you complain to your friend Mia. “If I have to spend another seventeen years surrounded by these half-wits then I’ll pull a Sylvia Plath, I swear.”
“Clearly today has been a good day,” Mia chuckles. She’d known you long enough for the bitter grump of your character not to phase her. “Rafe bothering you again?”
“He’s intolerable,” you tell her, indirectly answering her question. “In music today he thought it’d be funny to put cola in the trombone. Men blow my mind with their stupidity. God knows how the patriarchy was even formed with how little brain cells they use.”
The two of you walk down the stairs of the school, heading to the parking lot amongst the herd of students. The spring weather is finally creeping in now that you're in March. The floral smell of blossoms hangs in the air, embracing the world in a warmish breeze. The briefly pleasant moment is rudely interrupted by none other but the devil-boy himself. His bright red Mercedes whips into the throughway of the parking lot. He doesn't seem to care about hitting anybody. To him, others are like bowling pins: he’d probably take delight in taking someone out.
You and Mia ignore him as you walk up to your car. At least, that was the plan, until you look up from your keys in time to see your younger sister Charlotte hopping into the back of Rafe’s pimped out ride per his offer.
“That’s an interesting development,” Mia remarks.
You watch as Rafe revs the engine - grinning like the pompous asshole he is - before jetting away. He narrowly misses knocking some poor kid off his bike in the process.
“It’s disgusting, is what it is,” you correct, promptly blinking away the surprise.
You follow Mia into your car, tossing your track bag into the backseat, and start up the engine.
Charlotte was only fifteen. She was young, innocent, carefree and (more often than not) insufferable. You couldn’t be more different. Whilst Charlotte searched for the good in people, you tried to find ways to stay as far away from them as possible. The only tell that you were related were your features. The same nose and same chin, you taking your father’s eyes and her your mother’s. At school, Charlotte enjoyed pretending that she didn’t know who you were. Your reputation didn’t pair well with hers, and at fifteen, nothing was more important to Charlotte than popularity. Those things didn’t matter to you. What someone thought of you didn’t make much difference to your mood or your future. Studying on the other hand? That was the stuff of consequence. Nevertheless, you cared for your sister. Her cushioned upbringing made her vulnerable. She had been sheltered by your family’s wealth and because of your father’s obsessive protectiveness, her experiences with boys were minimal. That to say, having her in Rafe’s line of sight certainly made you uneasy.
You drive home chatting to Mia about the plans for the weekend - planning to head to The Wreck for lunch on Saturday - but you can’t stop thinking about Charlotte sat in the back of Rafe’s car. When you pull up outside Mia’s house, she pauses just after opening the door.
“What do you think that was about? With Charlotte and Rafe?”
“Honestly, I have no idea,” you reply, turning down the radio. "But I’m not gonna let it go any further.”
“Amen,” Mia agrees. With that, she gives a small wave and climbs out the car. “See you tomorrow.”
“See ya.”
When you pull up outside your house, you spot your dad sitting on the porch. He’s probably reading notes about the latest case he’s taken on. As one of the best lawyers on Figure Eight, he always has plenty of work to be chipping away at. Sometimes it feels like he has a new client every week.
You make your way up the neatly kept garden path, the creaking gate giving you away.
“Afternoon sweetheart,” he says, not looking up.
“Hey dad,” you reply, walking up the steps.
“How’s your day been? Made anyone cry yet?”
“Not yet, but the day’s still young,” you return, only half joking. With that, he glances up. “How’s the case?”
“Long. Boring. Don’t let on that I said that.” he says. “Where’s your sister?”
Before you can delight in telling, as if manifested into existence, Charlotte comes floating up the pathway. Her ridiculously short white tennis skirt floats in the wind like a dove’s feathered wings taking flight. Not one hair is out of place and not one eyelash misaligned. You resist the urge to roll your eyes as she makes her way up the stairs.
“Where’ve you been?” your dad immediately quizzes.
“Nowhere daddy.”
“How come you’re later home than your sister?”
“Well, somebody wouldn’t give me ride,” Charlotte replies, shooting you a glare. Her perfect smile takes on an edge when you lock eyes.
Your dad sighs and looks up at you. “We talked about this. Until Charlotte gets her license, you drive her to and from school. Y’all are both heading to the same place anyway, so what’s the big whoop?”
“She hijacks my radio and plays fluffy pop crap.”
“Taylor Swift is not ‘fluffy pop crap’. She’s the bible itself. You’re just not used to listening to good music,” Charlotte replies.
Swallowing your anger, you correct your stance, folding your arms across your chest. Biting back a smirk, you say, “ask Charlotte which guy drove her home today.”
“Don’t change the—Guy? What guy?”
Charlotte’s face goes to drop but she recovers quickly. Taking a reproachful step towards your dad like he’s an unpredictable stray dog, she talks in a sickly-sweet voice.
“Now, daddy, don’t be angry, but there’s this boy at school and I think he—”
“Believe me, I think I know what he’ll be thinking,” your dad immediately cuts in. “And the answer is no. It is always no.”
As your little sister’s eyes flash to yours, you grin victoriously. Enjoy, you mouth to her. The angry twitch in her brow is delightful.
“Daddy, this is ridiculous! I’m the only girl in high school who isn’t dating!” Charlotte whines.
“You’re fifteen, you don’t need to be dating. And you’re not the only girl. She isn’t dating either,” your dad replies, shoving a thumb over his shoulder in your direction.
“And I don’t intend to. I got bigger fish to fry,” you say. Charlotte’s deadly stare hardens tenfold. “Besides, the boys in this town are whack jobs.”
“Like music to my ears,” your dad practically sighs. Very rarely do you seem to please him, but your stance on boys appears to be the one common ground the two of you have. “Now y’all both know the rule: no dating ‘til you graduate.”
“This is so unfair! The two of you are so unhinged!” Charlotte goes on. She seems about a minute away from stomping her feet and waving her fists like a toddler throwing a tantrum. You’re only half ashamed to say that you relish in every moment of it.
You see, Charlotte was a daddy’s girl. Pretty, pink and poised, she loved the theatrics of Kook life. At the yacht club gatherings and the monthly dinner parties, the two of them would soak up every minute whilst you’d skulk in the back, headphones in and bitch-face on. You’d never much connected with either of them. Your mom understood you well, but she wasn’t around now, so, what did it matter? All the Kook crap was just that to you: crap. Fickle people who were so rich that their nerves were deadened, leaving them to enjoy nothing more than gossiping about everyone and everything. Whilst one half of the island waited tables and sweated out in the sun day-and-night to keep the lights on, the other was complaining about their golf clubs not being shiny enough. It was all crap.
“Alright, fine. Here’s how we fix this. Old rule out, new rule in. You can date,” your dad says to Charlotte. Her smile is instantaneous. As your mouth goes to gape open in horror – the thought of Rafe Cameron snapping up your sister like a crocodile preying on a bunny – your dad makes your day. “…when your sister does.”
“What!?”
“Har har,” you grin.
Charlotte points accusingly at you. “But she’s a mutant! You couldn’t pay a guy to date her!”
Your grin only grows with the thought.
“Then I guess you’ll never date. Oh! I like the sound of that,” your dad gloats. God, you have never loved him more. “Now get out of my hair, the both of y’all. I need to get these notes done for tomorrow.”
“Thanks dad,” you chirp, promptly heading into the house. Charlotte is quick to follow.
“You’re evil,” she hisses.
You shrug, back facing her as you start up the stairs. “And you’re spoilt.”
“Urgh! Has it ever occurred to you that you’re like clinically insane!?”
“Don’t care!” you sing-song before darting into your room, closing the door behind you. Through the wood, you hear Charlotte let out a shriek.
Smiling, you dump your school bag and take up shop at your desk, hoping to get some studying done, peaceful at last with the thought of Rafe Cameron never getting near your sister.
There was a rumour that when JJ first spoke to you, you spat in his face. That one was false.
“Hiya princess.”
The rasp of a guy’s voice interrupts your conversation about the yacht club’s annual spring-ball with Mia. Slowing turning your head to your left, you come face to face with a dirty-blonde haired boy. He looks to be about seventeen. His skin is slightly glossy, presumably from sunscreen and sweat, and there’s a smirk hiding behind his smile. That’s when you know that this boy is trouble.
“You talking to me?” you ask, unimpressed.
“Who else?”
“Hopefully anyone,” you say.
Mia snorts. You look away from him to share a bemused look with your friend. This guy cannot be serious…
“You need’a hand there?”
Eyebrows pulling together, you glance at him. He seems to think you’re confused about what he’s referring to, nodding down to the Sprite bottle in your hand. The cap’s still on. The truth is, you’re confused as to why he’s even talking to you at all. Wordlessly, you lift the bottle to your mouth and secure your teeth around the cap. There’s the satisfying click-crack as it comes lose and you spit it on the floor by his feet. Then, holding his gaze, you take a drink. His eyebrows quirk up in surprise.
“That’s, uh, certainly one way to get a guy’s attention,” he says, chuckling to try and regain some charm.
“My mission in life,” you return. Then, before he can cook up something else to say, you turn to Mia and loop your arm in hers, guiding the two of you to the exit of The Wreck. You’d been planning on heading out anyway, having finished your lunch earlier, and this was a sign from the universe that whatever good time you’d been having was officially over.
Unfortunately, the guy doesn’t seem so easily deterred.
“I’ll pick up at eight then?”
“Oh, yeah, eight. Uh huh,” you agree dismissively.
He falls in step with you on your left, hands casually shoved in his short pockets, combat boots loudly thudding on the wooden floor.
“Well, you know, the night I take you to places you’ve never been before.”
You see his boyish grin in your peripheral, making you whip your head around to meet his stare.
“Where? The seven-eleven off main street?”
His lips part, blundering for some quick-witted reply, but you don’t give him chance.
“Do you even know my name, screw-boy?”
The smirk is back, full force. Tilting his head slightly, self-assured, he replies, “I know a lot more than you think.”
“Doubtful. Very doubtful,” you assure.
Finally, you and Mia seem to shake him. He doesn’t follow you to your car door and he probably made the right call, because you were moments away from using the bottle of Sprite as a weapon. As you unlock the car, Mia leans against the side of it.
“What was that all about?”
You spare a glance back to The Wreck to find him stood there, glancing inside the building as if debating heading back, scratching the back of his neck. His misplaced confidence seems to have dwindled significantly. Ah, success.
“God knows."
“You know, I think that’s JJ Maybank. One of them Pogues who hangs out with John B,” Mia says.
JJ seems a fitting name for him, you think. You vaguely recall seeing the Pogues hanging around. Kiara from the academy seemed quite close with them. You watch as he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting up and taking a drag. Gross.
Pulling open your car door, you look back to Mia. “Come on. Let’s hang out at the beach.”
“Yeah, and far away from that nutjob,” she snorts, walking around the car to the passenger side.
As you go to climb in, you find yourself looking one final time to the entrance of the restaurant. The messy haired boy is nowhere to be found. Good riddance, you think to yourself. Happiness restored, you swing into the driver’s seat and shut the car door.
There was a rumour that your mum was in witness protection. That one was false.
You weren’t entirely sure how it got so late but it was nearly one in the morning. Having spent the past three hours studying, you’d sort of lost track of time. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when you’d checked your phone screen.
“Goddamn,” you mumble. Pushing away from your desk, you close your notebook and switch off your lamp.
Walking to the bathroom, you don’t bother closing the door. You know your dad’s asleep by now and with his own en-suite, there’d be no reason why he’d need to use this bathroom. Charlotte is probably asleep too: beauty rest and all that. You turn on the faucet and pull your hair out of your face. You wash and dry and reach for your toothbrush. That’s when Charlotte appears.
“Oh,” she startles. “Didn’t know you were still up.”
“Could say the same to you.”
You take in her pyjamas. They’re Roller Rabbit, selling at $150 a set. Pastel pink and plum purple, they sit sweetly on her dainty frame. You on the other hand are dressed in an oversized t-shirt that you got given for free at an indie film festival, and a pair of boxer-short bottoms.
“Cute pjs,” you tell her.
“Thanks. Daddy bought them for me,” she chirps.
Charlotte makes a b-line to the vanity. She opens the drawer and retrieves the tweezers. You watch her in the mirror as she tames her already perfect eyebrows. She makes eye contact with you through the reflections, taking in your own nightwear. “You could try a new look, you know? People might like you if you weren’t so hostile.”
“I’m not hostile,” you defend. You put toothpaste on your toothbrush, breaking the line of gaze. “I’m annoyed.”
“Potato potata. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if people didn’t like me.”
“You forget that I don’t care what people think,” you reply honestly. What would it matter if some thought you unwelcoming? Everyone ends up as bones in the ground anyway.
“Sure you do,” Charlotte says. “At least on some level.”
It’s too late in the night (or early in the morning) to argue. Instead, you start brushing your teeth. Charlotte goes on pimping and preening her appearance in the mirror silently. She produces a jade face roller and begins massaging her cheekbones and jawline. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. As you’re rinsing out your mouth, you see Charlotte’s extensive skincare routine continue. If someone was to walk in, you’d think she was heading to the Oscars at the crack of dawn. She unbuttons the top two fastenings of her polo pyjama top and shrugs it down enough to reveal her collarbones, taking the effort to jade-roll them too. That’s when you notice the string of pearls around her neck.
“Nice pearls,” you comment, putting your toothbrush away. They did suit her, as did most delicate jewellery.
“Thanks.”
“Dad buy them for you too?”
“No,” she says. “They’re moms.”
Your stomach twists like a viper. “Moms?”
“Yeah. Daddy found them in a drawer last week.”
“And what? Now you’re just gonna start wearing them?” you say aghast, spinning around.
She frowns, looking over her shoulders. “It’s not like she’s coming back to claim them any time soon.”
You scoff. “You’re woefully missing the point.”
“Whatever,” Charlotte mumbles. She looks back to her reflection, smiling at herself, lifting a hand to fiddle with the small beads. “I think they look good on me.”
“Well trust me, they don’t,” you lie before promptly leaving the bathroom.
There was a rumour that you wrecked Rafe Cameron’s car. That one was true.
“Morning Lucy,” you greet, walking into An Offer You Can’t Refuse.
“Morning. Early start for a Saturday, don’t you think?” Lucy replies from behind the counter.
You shrug and shift your tote bag further up your shoulder. “Wanna get first dibs, I guess.”
“Well, all the new stuff is back there, like always,” she says, gesturing with her head to the far end of the store.
You were somewhat a regular at the shop. It was the only spot in town that sold old movies. Not old movies like the nineties. Old movies like the early 20th century: the black and white classics, with extravagant sets and telephone-voices and an untouchable charm that modern things just couldn’t quite capture. You weren’t a film snob exactly. You’d sit through a Marvel movie and tag along with Mia to see the latest cheap jump-scare horror. But those weren’t as gripping, as enthralling, as captivating as the classics. Somewhere along the way, you’d made it your life mission to see every old movie on earth.
Flicking through the cases, you pick out a couple that had been sat on your list. One was a thirty’s flick and the other from the sixties. Lucy settles up with you and you slot one in your bag. You keep the other out to read the back, scanning over the summary as you walk out the door.
“Nice car.”
Stunned, you stop and look up, finding none other than JJ Maybank. He’s sitting on the bonnet of your car with such carelessness that one would assume he owned it.
“Are you following me?” you outright ask.
He looks offended by the insinuation. Gesturing across the street, he says, “I was in the fishing shop. I saw your car and I came over to say hi.”
Rolling your eyes, you put your movie in your bag and continue to your car. “Hi.”
Before you can reach for the handle for the door, JJ slides over, effectively blocking it and forcing you to meet his gaze once more. You catch a whiff of his cologne. It smells more modest than some of the fancy crap the guys at school practically drown themselves in.
“You’re not much of a talker, are ya?”
“Depends on the topic. My car doesn’t really whip me up into a verbal frenzy,” you return, folding your arms across your chest.
JJ takes a moment simply watching you. It’s annoying. First, he interrupts your pleasant weekend by wiping his grubby cargo shorts all over your car, and now he’s trapped you in the most disinteresting conversation of all time. You quirk a brow, hoping that your displeasure reads plain and clear on your face.
“Can I help you?” you prompt, annoyed.
The smile he gives you is less cocky than usual. It’s almost curious. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
You frown. “Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?”
He shrugs. “Well, most people are.”
“Well, I’m not,” you counter.
Whatever he was thinking before seems to have passed. His grin turns smug again, as quick and smooth as the moment dusk turns to flat-out night.
“Well, maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked, huh?”
Oh, brother.
You gasp, feigning your fluster by lifting a hand to your sternum. “Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby.”
With that stellar performance, you practically shove him out the way whilst forcing the car door open. JJ seems to take the hint and backs off, shoving his hands in his short pockets. He watches you climb in your car and he pulls out a cigarette in the process. You’re half-surprised he doesn’t keep blabbering away. JJ doesn’t seem as wounded this time by your dismissal and you’re not sure whether that ticks you off more. As you glance in the rearview to reverse out the parking spot, none other than Rafe Cameron drives up behind you. He then parks illegally in the middle of the parking lot, blocking you in.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“What is it? Asshole day?”
Rafe shuts off his engine and walks past your car with a faux swagger in his stride. It makes you sick.
“Do you mind?” you loudly ask him as he goes by.
He doesn’t even spare you a glance. “Not at all.”
Your blood is bubbling under your skin, boiling up your nerves and burning up your patience. Doing one last glance at the Rafe’s back as he walks away from you, you don’t think twice before pulling your keys out the ignition. Getting out the car and slamming the door shut, you storm over to the ugly Mercedes. With the car key positioned between two fingers, you lean down slightly and dig it through the paint and into the metal, dragging it along in a satisfying streak. The sound is as pleasing as nails on a chalk board. One cut doesn’t seem to diffuse your anger enough, so you go in for a second. You debate doing a third but better to be safe than sorry. So, you pocket your keys and start walking home. You can pick up your car tomorrow. As you go to leave, you catch JJ’s impressed expression in the reflection of Rafe’s blacked out windows.
There was a rumour that you and JJ hooked up at an outdoor movie night. That was completely false.
Over the dialogue over the movie, the swell of the orchestral music, and the mumbled chatter of friends and families, you can’t hear the soothing lap of the sea waves on the sand. That didn’t take away from the beauty of the scenery. Twilight had painted the sky in the most ethereal pinks, purples, oranges and blues. The boats which had taken anchor looked like shadows with how the sun had dipped. Huge trees framed the waterline cinematically. You can’t seem to help glancing at the view every now and then. It feels like something from a coffee table book. No wonder the beach was your mother's favourite place to be.
There were few island traditions which you liked, but the movie nights were one of your favourites. From March onwards, they ran bi-weekly. A huge screen would be put up in a lawn and people would come with deckchairs and picnic blankets and take up space on the grass. Snacks and cakes and drinks would be shared in the jovially calm atmosphere of the evening. There was a snack bar over near the bathrooms selling bags of candy and pre-prepared tubs of popcorn. When you hadn’t been shooting looks to the view, you’d been looking to the snack bar, debating buying some. At the rumble of your stomach, you relent.
“I’m gonna go get some snacks. Want anything?” you ask Mia in a whisper.
She doesn’t look away from the film when she shakes her head.
“Okay. Be right back.”
Standing up, you whisper out apologies to other movie-goers as you slink away from the lawn, venturing to the snack bar. It’s only when you’re seconds away do you recognise JJ Maybank. He’s wearing longer pants this time, still of the cargo material, and an old t-shirt that says Pelican Docks on the left breast. It looks well-worn at the sleeves. His hair is tucked under a cap. The most notable thing you pick up on is the fact that he isn’t smoking. Every other time you’ve seen him outside, he’s had one of those cancer sticks stuck between his lips. It’s annoying to admit to yourself that he looks good.
Ignoring him, you head straight to the girl manning the snack bar.
“A bag of Sour Patch kids please,” you smile, holding out a couple of dollar bills. She exchanges them for a bag of sweets. Candy in hand, you walk over to JJ.
“If you’re planning on asking me out again, you might as well get it over with,” you tell him, already disgruntled.
He looks away from the movie screen. “You mind? You’re kinda ruining this for me.”
You frown, glancing between himself and the film. “You like ‘Singing In The Rain’?”
JJ shrugs. “Course. Don’t you?”
The guilt from assuming is overshadowed by your curiosity. Before you can think of something to quiz him with, he’s talking again, eyes fixated on the actors.
“I mean, it’s no ‘Casablanca’ or ‘Some Like It Hot’, but I’ll take it,” he says casually.
Your eyebrows must shoot up into your hairline. “You know the movie ‘Some Like It Hot’?”
“No doy. It’s a classic,” JJ says. “Jack Lemmon is a natural in roles like that. It’s kinda rogue of me to say but I gotta admit, I think he’s better in that than in The Odd Couple.”
The question ‘you know The Odd Couple?’ is on the tip of your tongue but it’s silenced by a loud crash in the movie, catching your attention. You watch the theatrics of Cosmo as he performs ‘Make Them Laugh’, and you can’t help but smile. It’s one of your favourite parts of the movie.
“You know, I saw you earlier and I was gonna come over,” JJ admits, drawing your gaze to him once more. “I’ve never seen anyone look so sexy without even trying.”
The pre-teen at the counter snorts, clearly having overheard. When you and JJ look to her at the same time, she flushes bright pink and presses her lips together in embarrassment. It makes you laugh though, and when you look back to JJ, he’s holding back too. The sunset and reflection of the screen is painting his face in a youthful glow. The smile on his lips seems more genuine than before; it’s no longer bolstered up with ostentatious flare. His self-assured demeanour remains though. You can see it in how relaxed he stands, shoulders loose and back.
“You’re not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke.”
“Yeah, I quit. Turns out they’re bad for you,” JJ says.
“You think?” you mirthfully reply.
Come with me to the keggar tomorrow night,” JJ asks out of the blue.
You don’t roll your eyes this time. In fact, you’re not even annoyed. Instead, you find your smile growing. “You never give up, do you?”
“Is that a yes?”
You chuckle under breath, passing your candy bag between hands and turning to return to Mia. "No."
You begin to walk away.
“Well, is that a no then?” JJ calls. Someone shushes him abruptly.
Sniggering, you call back, “no!”
“Nine tomorrow night! I’ll pick you up!”
“Hey, shut it, man!”
“Sorry, dude. Jeez,” you hear JJ mumble.
You bite back your laugh, making your way back to the film. Mia is waiting impatiently for you. Taking your spot on the blanket again, you fight the urge to look back over your shoulder to JJ. She takes the bag of candy despite her earlier turn-down.
“What took you so long? You missed the best song,” she whispers.
You shake your head and steal a gummy, eyes fixating on the screen again. “Doesn’t matter.”
And then, you’re lost to the cinema.
There was a rumour that you threw up on JJ’s shoes at the keggar. That one was (unfortunately) true.
You know you’ve made a mistake braving going downstairs for a snack the moment your foot hits the final step.
“Daddy, it’s only for one night!”
Charlotte is there, whinging away, stood beside her friend Laura. You didn’t like Charlotte all that much but you liked Laura even less. Whilst Charlotte was losing her sense of humanity bit by bit, Laura was a hollowed-out husk dressed head to toe in Shien. Maybe if she had a stellar personality you wouldn’t care, but she didn’t. She was cruel, two-faced and you trusted her as far you could throw her. So, you were obviously thrilled to find her stood in your house.
“You know anything about a party?” you dad asks you, roping you unwillingly into the conversation.
You shrug, shaking your head no.
“Of course she doesn’t know, she’s a cave troll,” Charlotte snarls.
“That’s a new one,” you mutter under breath, starting for the kitchen.
“If she isn’t going, you’re not going,” your dad tells Charlotte.
“Urgh!” Charlotte exasperates. She rushes over to you, taking you by the shoulders and forcing you to meet her gaze. You’re a little surprised to find how genuinely desperate she is to leave the house for a dumb keggar. “Can you please forget that you’re completely wicked and just be my sister for one night. Please.”
You suck your teeth, feeling your conviction dwindle. Suddenly the half-completed page of notes about maths drops in your priorities. Charlotte seems to notice. The puppy-dog eyes come out in full effect - the ones that she used to get the new Mac book and the ones that she used to get your old pair of converse when they suddenly became trendy again.
“Please,” she begs, doubling down.
You sigh, shaking your head as if in disbelief of your own actions. “Fine, I can make an appearance.”
Charlotte looks over to Laura and they begin to squeal, hopping up and down like the floor is lava. You realise that she’s wearing the pearls still, but before you can think much more about it, you’re trapped in a hug. Everything tenses, from your head to your toes, and it isn’t over soon enough. You open the downstairs cupboard and retrieve a jacket to combat the spring breeze that’s likely going to haunt the beach at this hour. Your dad is lecturing Charlotte and Laura as you shrug it on; you pass them to the door.
It's a little frightening to open the front door and come face to face with someone who you’re not expecting to be there.
“What are you doing here?” is the first thing out of your mouth when you meet JJ’s eyes.
“Nine o’clock, right?” he replies.
It’s impossible to bite back the smile that’s coming to your face at the sound of his voice. When did that start to happen?
“Well, I’m little late, so,” he admits almost sheepishly.
You blink out of your stupor with that. A man who can’t even be on time for a date that he practically begged for – once again, the bar is on the floor.
“Whatever, I’m driving,” you tell him, brushing past and down the porch steps. He follows.
“Nice digs here.”
“Thanks,” you reply. You pull open the front gate and it creaks like it might snap off any moment.
“Y’all rich and can’t afford to oil that damn thing?"
“Help yourself to it,” you jokingly quip back. You pull your keys out your coat pocket and unlock the car. “Hop in.”
The drive to the keggar is mostly quiet. JJ points out the turnings you need to take and you refuse to let him turn on the radio. He goes to put one leg up on the car seat but must see your sideways glare, making him stop. Instead, he rests an arm on the window frame and taps his fingers along to a non-existent beat.
He’s dressed rather nice. Quite casual, but you supposed for a keggar, it didn’t much matter. It wasn’t like you were dressed to the nines either. A grey sweater hangs slightly big on his frame, but it sits on his broad shoulders a little too nicely. He’s wearing a pair of black cargo shorts which are muddied with dust on the thigh, probably from biking, and those damn cargo boots again. No cap this time, he lets his blonde hair sit mussed, seemingly from running his fingers through it. That’s something he seems to do. A lot.
When the two of you park up, the beach is already buzzing. It’s swarming with people from your school and his, yapping away to one another. People are passing drinks and passing out. Some are carrying coolers in and others are shot-gunning the moment their feet touch the sand. Sighing, you mentally prepare yourself for a hellish night.
JJ tries to walk beside you but you seem to be one step ahead every time. He takes to following your tail around the keggar as you survey the scene. A girl vomiting in the corn; a group passing around a bong; a group of horny dirtbags jeering and cheering as two girls make out. A brunette girl comes stumbling over, practically throwing herself at JJ.
“Kiss me,” she slurs, clearly hammered.
JJ doesn’t look too thrilled but it doesn’t keep you from rolling your eyes and continuing on.
“Not tonight, girly,” you overhear him say. You then hear his footsteps behind you once more.
His popularity among the Pogues is startling. Soon enough, someone else is coming up to him, followed by a third. You overhear good-humoured conversation kick up, spirits high, and the smacking of hands as they enact a brief handshake. It seems a good opportunity to ditch him.
The moment of freedom is over quicker than the final week of summer. Rafe Cameron, in all his knobheaded glory, saunters over.
“Didn’t peg you as a keggar girl,” he tells you. Even on the night, you can’t catch a break from him.
“You know me: full of surprises,” you return dryly.
“Surprising in that outfit too. Nice to see the puppies out today,” he says, licking his teeth as his eyes shamelessly flit down to your top.
You roll your eyes. “Eat crap creep.”
Rafe doesn’t seem to be finished. He follows after you leisurely when you walk around him. “Your little sister coming tonight?”
“Stay away from her, Rafe,” you warn.
“Oh, sure, sure, I’ll stay away,” he nods, raising his hands in mock surrender. The most wicked, twisted grin sinks into his skin. “But I can’t promise she’ll stay away from me.”
Your disgust must read plainly on your face. Rafe chuckles darkly, apparently finished with the interaction, and you watch as he makes his way over to his pack. You shiver out your repugnance and distract yourself by making another lap of the keggar, hoping to find your sister in the process.
Unfortunately, you’re not quick enough to get to her before Rafe. He’s fiddling with a strand of her hair, looking down at her in a way that she might think is doting but you can only read as looming. Your stomach sinks as he notices you, jutting up his chin proudly.
“Yo. Look who found me,” he taunts.
Intestines are now in your shoes as you spot his hand looping around her waist and laying grip. Charlotte tangles her fingers into his, a red solo up in her other hand, and goes to lead the two of them away. You quickly dart after her.
“Charlotte, wait, can I talk to you?”
“Don’t address me in public,” she hisses, horrified.
You hope your expression is as pleading as hers was earlier, but it mustn’t be, because she continues to move away from you.
“Go, enjoy the night,” Charlotte says. She probably thinks she’s being nice, putting your mind at ease, but it makes you all the more concerned. “That’s what I’m gonna do.”
Looking around as if something or someone might tell you what to do next, your eyes fixate on the coolers. You soon find yourself taking a swig of tequila. It burns as it runs down your throat; you close your eyes with wince.
“I’ve been looking all over the place for you!”
You open them to find a very disquieted JJ.
“I’m getting trashed bro,” you reply, lifting the bottle up in proof. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at a party?”
“Not with that crap,” JJ replies.
Rolling your eyes, you take another shot. “Whatever. I’ll catch you later.”
Then you’re walking away from him and weaving through the crowds. The trashy RnB music playing over a loudspeaker thumps through the sand and rattles through your bones. You find yourself collecting drinks like a pre-teen collects trading cards. With each sip, the alcohol goes down easier and easier, and your control becomes lesser and lesser. You’re only half sure of the time. Nobody here looks familiar to you and you have no idea where Charlotte has gone. The thought of her with Rafe has you reaching for another drink but it’s taken from you before the bottle can meet your lips.
“Hey!”
“How about I have this one?” JJ offers.
You snatch it back. “No way, this one’s mine.”
Was that your voice? Jeez, maybe you’re more drunk than you thought. That doesn’t keep you from necking the whole thing, some dumbass cheering you on. Dumping the bottle in the sand, you pull a face to JJ, extending out your arms as if to say ‘see – what you gonna do about it?’ .
The makeshift dancefloor becomes randomly appealing. The rhythm of the music seems to have finally crept out of the ground and into your bones, and you stagger your way to the crowd of dancing, swaying drunks and begin to move to the music. Closing your eyes, you drag your hands up your sides and into the air, hips dipping and diving to the song. It isn’t your usual thing but you find the groove to it. The reason you lose it is the elbow that suddenly jams into your back. You wince in pain and tumble forward, balance screwed from all the drinks. The ground comes to meet you surprisingly quick and you don’t have time to put your hands out to save your head from hitting a stuck-out branch from driftwood.
“You alright?”
It’s JJ.
“I’m fine,” you slur.
When you go to stand, everything is spinning. It makes you slip in the sand and nearly face plant a second time.
“You’re not fine. Alright, come on,” JJ mumbles as his hands gently take your biceps. You grumble out complaints as he helps you off the ground.
The music drifts away from you as JJ guides you somewhere. The shakiness of the world makes you feel nauseous so you opt with keeping your eyes closed. There’s a throbbing from where you hit your head.
“Can I talk to you?” someone asks. You don't open your eyes to find out who.
“Not right now, man. I’m a little busy,” you hear JJ return, patience clearly dwindling.
“Can you give me a second?”
The firm but friendly hold JJ has on you momentarily vanishes. You hear the crunch of sand as he walks away a few steps but you’re too busy fighting to keep yourself upright to see where he’s gone. Just as you’re about to lose the fight, JJ’s back, catching you and steadying you on your feet.
“Woah, woah,” he chuckles. “Come on.”
As the mayhem of the party fades, you find the pounding in your head to lessen. You’re slowly lowered to sit on a piece of driftwood.
“This is so patronising.”
“Leave it to you to use big words when you’re smashed,” JJ says.
Braving to open your eyes, you find JJ digging around in his cargo pockets. “Why are you helping me?”
“I’m worried you might got a concussion,” he tells you. He produces a small box from his pocket, no bigger than the palm of his hand, and he cracks it open.
“You wouldn’t care if I never wake up,” you snort. The scrunch of your brows has you reaching up to the stinging pain of your head wound. Before you can touch at it, JJ’s pulling your hand away by the wrist.
“Sure I would.”
“Why?”
“Cause otherwise I’d have to start taking out girls who actually like me.”
“Like you could find one.”
“See? That right there, makin’ me swoon, mama,” JJ ribs. He reaches out for your face then. “Alright, this might sting a little.”
His fingers are warm as they touch your skin. He lightly coaxes your head up and back by the edge of your jaw. You watch with half-blurred vision as he concentrates, gently dapping what must be an alcoholic wipe to your cut.
JJ has a pretty face. Dimples that are visible even when he isn’t smiling. A soft jawline that sharpens when he’s flexing, whether it be in concentration or aggravation. The long slender nose sits nicely on his face, guiding into surprisingly neat eyebrows and eyes with lashes so long Charlotte would cry with envy.
The wipe hits the deepest point of the wound. Flinching back, you hiss in pain.
“Sorry,” JJ mumbles.
“S’okay,” you quietly reply.
He finishes dabbing the blood away and sighs, pulling the wipe back. JJ seems to notice your stare at that point, flitting his eyes down to meet yours.
“What?”
“Your eyes have a little grey in them,” you observe.
His lips twitch in a smile. Maybe it’s the warmth of the booze, but you’re half sure that the boy blushes. Your eyes glance down to his lips, the one part of his face you haven’t yet analysed. JJ clears his throat and removes his hand from your head. He litters the wipe on the beach floor and shoves his hands in his short pockets, creating some distance. He doesn’t move any farther away from you though.
“How’d you know to do all that?”
“Cleaning cuts?”
“Mhm,” you say.
“Kinda have to learn, when you grow up in a house like mine,” JJ vaguely replies.
You spare a glance at his side profile to find his eyes trained ahead in an almost vacant stare. He comes back to himself, looking at you.
“So, uh, why’d you let him get to you?”
“Who? Rafe?”
“Uh huh.”
“I hate him,” you state.
JJ purses his lips and nods. “Fair ‘nough.”
Someone whoops out to another in the far distance. You try to ignore it, instead focusing on the susurrus of the wind, the sighs of the sea, and the steady inhales and exhales of the boy sitting beside you.
“So, your mom a nurse or something?” you ask.
“My ma?”
“Yeah. With the cut cleaning and all that.”
“Nah, she ain’t a nurse,” JJ replies. “Fact, I don’t know what she is. She ain’t around anymore.”
“That sucks,” you say.
He shrugs. “Happened a long time ago. She walked out on us so guess there can’t be much to miss, right?”
“I guess,” you agree, though you’re not sure if you fully do. For some reason – maybe because of the alcohol blurring your barriers – you find yourself telling him, “My mom walked out on us too.”
“Really?”
You nod, and instantly regret it.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It gave the yacht club something to talk about for like a year,” you say, cracking a smile.
JJ grins. “You Kooks gotta have your gossip.”
“Oh yeah,” you whistle, nodding. “Otherwise we’d actually have to start making conversation about shit that matters. Or realise how little we all like each other.”
The two of you laugh and lock eyes. His dimples are now out in full force, teeth shining in the off-cast street lamp glow and enchanting moonlight.
“You know, you’re not as vile as I thought you’d be.”
His smile only grows. “Thanks. I think?”
The pulsating pain in your head seems to vanish for a moment. You think it’s because of JJ and his weirdly wonderful ways. You think it is, until you realise it’s because your body is distracted by a whole new problem.
Head whipping down, you aim away from your shoes and somehow directly at JJ’s.
And then bam: vomit.
There was a rumour that you and JJ hooked up in the back of your car. That one was false.
It’s abnormal seeing JJ sat behind your steering wheel. His elbow is propped up on the window ledge, knuckles cracked as he grips the wheel at the top, guiding it with the other hand. You keep stealing glances. He focuses ahead on the road. It’s pitch-black asides from the glare of the headlights and the few and far between streetlamps. You’re not entirely sure how you got to this point with him, to have him driving your car and to find yourself completely okay with it.
The playlist that the radio is humming out changes to the next song. You instantly feel your body soften in the passenger seat with the swell of violins and cellos. Naturally, gradually, they find a melody. It’s solemn and serene all at once.
“I love this song,” you hear yourself say.
“What is it?”
“Love Theme, from Cinema Paradiso,” you reply.
JJ’s lips twitch with curiosity. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s my favourite piece of music of all time,” you tell him. “It makes me cry.”
“Really? Don’t know if any song’s ever made me cry.”
“Then you’re listening to the wrong things,” you're quick assert.
JJ chuckles at that, but he doesn’t disagree.
The piano chimes in now; steady waltz-like chords which complement the strings flawlessly. You sigh and watch the world pass by through the window. After throwing up, draining the alcohol from your body in the least flattering of ways, you feel more stable. There’s still a blur to the edge of the world hinting that you’re not fully sober but you no longer feel out of control. The three mints which you had the moment you got in the car helped to freshen your mouth.
“It’s a pretty song,” JJ observes. You’re surprised that he’s listening to it. “Is it meant to be happy?”
“Sort of. It’s the third version. There’s three reprises of the song throughout the film. The movie’s sort of a culmination of genres. It’s a love story about Salvatore and Elena, this girl who he’s completely infatuated with throughout his teens. But it doesn’t work out. It’s also about his relationship with Alfredo, this old man who runs the cinema. Salvatore falls in love with cinema and Alfredo is like a father figure to him. As he grows up, he’s pushed to leave the small town and live his life.”
JJ whistles lowly. “That’s a lot’a unpack.”
“Sorry,” you meekly reply. Maybe you rambled on a bit too much.
“Don’t be. It’s interesting,” JJ says.
You glance over to him and see him smiling, and you struggle to bite back your own, looking back to the road.
“You seem to have a thing for movies,” JJ notes.
“I love them,” you sigh, pushing your hair behind your ears. The music builds at that moment, with the wind instruments taking control of the melody and pushing the emotion to another level. You find your eyes slipping shut on reflex. It’s with them closed that you find the confidence to admit, “I want to write movies for a living. But nothing like the new crappy things. Films like the old ones. The ones with real emotion and meaning behind them. I’m so sick of the cheap rewrites and remakes. All the CGI junk that fills the cinema now and the empty scores.”
“So, why don’t you? Write movies, I mean?”
As JJ asks you this question, he pulls up outside your house.
You scoff. “Yeah, my dad would just love that. He wants me to go to school for accounting or economics. Something with ‘a future’.”
The engine shuts off but the song continues to play. JJ glances down at the radio, his eyes scanning over the song title. He seems lost in thought, or perhaps lost in the music, and you feel a small smile settle comfortably on your face. He’s so pretty in this light. He’s pretty in any light.
He seems to remember himself, coming out of his stupor in a similar manner to how he did back on the beach. Looking up to you, JJ catches your gaze. He reflexively switches off the radio, cutting the song off and enveloping the two of you in silence.
“You uh,” he begins, gesturing lamely to the house, “don’t seem the type to ask for your dad’s permission.”
“Oh what? Now you think you know me all of a sudden?” Your tone is teasing. It’s so different to the usual bite it has from your other interactions.
JJ shrugs. “I think I’m starting to.”
The honesty behind his words has your lips parting, somewhat taken aback. The bad-boy façade that he hides behind seems to have slipped tonight. You hold his gaze and he offers you a warm, tender smile. There’s a nervous yet excitable thrum in your chest. It's terrifying.
“Yeah, well, the only thing people know about me is that I’m scary,” you say dismissively.
“Well, I’m no picnic myself, so,” JJ muses.
And it’s things like that which catch you off guard. Your efforts to push him away and close him off are so easily dismissed. He seems to have a talent for peeling away your walls and it never feels intrusive. Instead, it makes you feel seen. Understood. It’s something that you haven’t really known since your mom walked out. Mia understood you to an extent, but you weren’t sure that she knew you. You weren’t sure if you’d ever let her, as awful as it sounds.
“Well, thank you. For driving me back,” you quietly say.
JJ nods. His eyes never stray from yours. He’s so beautiful it’s unfair.
“Course. Anytime.”
He takes a breath and it’s shaky, tempered with nerves, and that’s when you wonder if his heart is beating as fast as yours. If his stomach is full of butterflies too, bringing about the most addictive of anxieties. As his tongue darts out to dampen his lips, you find yourself taking the leap. Slowly, so slow that you’re not sure you even are, you lean forward to him, letting your eyes slip shut. In the moonlight, in your car, after the conversations of the night, you finally feel as though you have seen the real JJ, and he’s seen the real you.
A second passes.
Then another.
Then a third.
You hear the rustle of clothes and the creak of the car seat as JJ shifts. It makes you open your eyes. He’s watching his fingers trail along the leather grip of the steering wheel, knuckles uncomfortably tight and lips rubbing together.
“Maybe we should do this another time,” he eventually says.
For a moment, you just sit. You take him in. He doesn’t appear cocky or disgusted, or even amused. He seems timorous. It’s so confusing and irritating that you find yourself defaulting to anger. It’s that anger that smothers the burning hot embarrassment you feel deep in your chest. It conceals the crumbling disappointment of not having his lips on yours. Suddenly, you want to be as far away from him as possible.
You scoff and push open the car door. It slams loudly behind you as you storm back up to the house, arms wrapping around yourself in comfort as you feel your heart painfully pulling at your throat. The sting of tears is hard to fight but you manage to keep them at bay until you’re in your bedroom. It’s there that you feel safe enough to cry.
There was a rumour that JJ tracked you down in a movie shop. That one was true.
Have you ever had so much on your mind that it’s physically impossible to concentrate, even on the simplest of things? Ever since the keggar three days ago, that’s how you’ve felt. Studying was more gruelling than usual. You would start reading an exert from Romeo and Juliet and somehow, you’d find your mind drifting to the sound of JJ’s voice on the beach, telling you about his mom. Watching movies was no longer an escape because any guy on screen had you back in the passenger seat, basking in JJ’s beauty. Even now, stood in An Offer You Can’t Refuse, you find yourself staring blankly at the back of a DVD case, trying to make sense of the blurb.
Sighing, you give up and shelve it. You wander back to the main throughway of the store and look at some of the more recent releases. Tugging your cardigan tighter around you, you round the end of the shelve, heading for the exit, to instead come face to face with JJ.
It’s a shame that your stomach twists unpleasantly at the sight of him.
“Excuse me, have you seen ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s?’ I’ve lost my copy?”
You hold back a grunt and opt to roll your eyes instead. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard there was a secret screening,” JJ tells you, humour lining his words.
You scoff. “You’re so…”
“Charming?” he offers.
You breeze past him.
“Wholesome!”
“Unwelcome,” you correct.
“You’re not as mean as you think you are, you know,” JJ suddenly tells you, tone taking an edge.
Mystified, you return, “and you’re not as badass as you think you are.”
“Oh, somebody’s still got their panties in a twist,” JJ quips.
Spinning around, you raise a finger threateningly. “Do not for one second think you had any effect whatsoever on my panties.”
JJ lightly taps your hand away. “What did I have an effect on then?”
It’s moments like these that you’re thankful your mouth is quicker than your mind. “Other than my upchuck reflex, nothing,” you lie.
JJ sighs, frustrated.
In the corner of your eye, you see the movies of the week. The universe works perfectly sometimes. Snatching up a copy, you shove Breakfast at Tiffany's in JJ’s chest before leaving the shop.
It sucks to be mad at JJ. You don’t want to be, but you don’t know how not to be. The whole night felt like an oxymoron. There was a moment when things felt so perfect and then he shattered it. It was abnormal. All that hard work to get you out on a date; the time taken caring for you and driving you back, checking you got home safe; and the conversations that felt far from empty and false…And then nothing. You knew JJ wasn’t a virgin. Not all rumours are based in truth – you knew that – but when it came to JJ Maybank, it was common knowledge that he had a way with girls. You weren’t the first girl for him to lay eyes on, and you certainly wouldn’t be the first girl he’d kiss, so why did he suddenly seem so discouraged? It didn’t make sense.
Whatever.
You close the car door and start up your engine.
You had more important things to sort out than deliberating over JJ’s intentions. Since when had a man ever interrupted your life before? There were some math notes which needed finishing back at home, and a track meet practice to prepare for tomorrow. Life was bigger than some pretty teenage boy.
Catching your eyes in the rearview mirror, you harden your gaze. “Get a grip.”
Your day doesn’t seem to improve when you get home. Whilst you’ve managed to put thoughts of JJ to bed, letting the irritation rest, your dad seems unwilling to give you peace. You walk through the door to hear himself and Charlotte talking animatedly about the Spring Ball at the yacht club.
“I’m not sure,” your dad sighs.
“But daddy, I’ve gone to them before.”
“But this one’s different. The guys there are older now. You’re older now. After last year, and our reputation, I’m just…”
The creaking floorboard before the kitchen doorway gives you away. Charlotte jumps at the chance to lasso you in.
“What if she comes?”
“She has a name,” you mutter, heading to the cupboard for a snack.
“I mean, if your sister goes then you can go, but I doubt she will.”
“She will what?” you ask. Cereal bar in hand, you tug away the wrapper and take a bite.
“Go to the Spring Ball.”
You guffaw loudly. “Yeah. No.”
“Knew it,” your dad says.
“Oh, come on! What’s wrong with the Spring Ball?” Charlotte carps.
You roll your eyes. “They’re stupid and performative and in bad taste. And old-fashioned. It just makes me feel icky. Whilst the Cut are trying to raise money to renovate the parks, we’re throwing balls for the fun of it. Plus, they’re boring. It’s just a bunch of rich morons talking about other rich morons. No offence, dad.”
“Plenty taken,” mutters your dad.
“You’re exhausting,” Charlotte tells you. “And unhinged.”
“Thanks,” you grin before taking another bite of your snack. You go to leave. “I’ll be upstairs.”
There was a rumour that JJ snuck into your school. That one was true.
You started running track following your school guidance counsellor’s advice. It was after you kneed Kelce so hard in the balls that he had to go to the nurse (you pride yourself for that achievement daily). Track was a good way to let off steam though. The world felt smaller and simpler on the circuit. You felt as though you could run away from all the things that were bothering you: Rafe, your dad, Charlotte, your mom. And now, JJ. The steady beat of your feet hitting the sand-topped track works like a metronome for your musings.
You’d heard the rumours that had been circulating about the night of the keggar. Charlotte hadn’t told you what happened between herself and Rafe, but there was a rumour that he didn’t drive her home. Apparently, someone called Louis had given her a ride back. You’d seen him at school every now and then. He’d only transferred a few months back so there wasn’t much to know about him. He seemed harmless enough though. Compared to Rafe, a rabid dog would be preferred.
“Good pace!” your coach praises loudly to you as you complete a third lap.
You’re panting in the warm sun. April was right around the corner now and the temperature was picking up, bit by bit, every day. Slowing to a jog, you direct yourself to the benches and retrieve your water bottle.
As your swallowing your third sip, you hear the loudspeaker system crackle to life. At first you don’t pay it much mind, assuming it’s one of the band members checking everything is working for a game tomorrow night or something. But then a voice is droning out of the speakers. It has a Carolina twang to it that is more common on the Cut and a youthful rasp that’s now all too familiar.
JJ.
‘Morning you wonderful Kook folks.’
You stare wide-eyed at the speaker.
‘Y’all are probably busy preparing your caviar or whatever the hell it is that you be doing out here on Figure Eight, but I’m here to read something I prepared. Brighten up your day and all that.’
Surely you have heatstroke. Surely this is not happening.
“’I’ve come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours.’”
Sense and Sensibility. You glance around the field as if to check that you’re not the only one hearing this and - yep, you’re not.
“‘Me? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I saw, I’m scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all, I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.’”
Dirty Dancing. Lips twitching into a smile, you’re in disbelief. Some people are sniggering at the cheesiness, others are completely befuddled by the whole thing. It is rather random. If you didn’t know what he was doing, you’d be confused too. Well, you still are, in fact. Did he know you'd be at the track today?
“And my personal favourite, ladies and gentlemen: ‘No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing. Badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.’”
Your perplexed smile turns more sober with that. Something trills in your chest – most probably your heart – and you nod in quiet approval.
“Alright then, Kooks and…Kooklemen. Y’all have a blessed day.”
The speaker clicks off with a crackle and some people on the field whoop and cheer, laughing and jeering. You shake your head and finish your drink, grinning like an idiot.
Maybe, just maybe, you can find some room to give JJ another chance.
There was a rumour that JJ Maybank spent his free time fishing. That one was true.
JJ Maybank was like a candy bar. He had a way of being sweet without being sickly, and he stayed on your mind the same way one gets chocolate stuck between their teeth. After asking around, you’re told that the best place to find the so-called delinquent was at a local fishing spot, down some old jetty. The floorboards creak unnervingly with every step you take. The sun is high in the sky, it only being mid-morning, and you find JJ easily. He’s perched on the end of the jetty, leaning forward against the rotting wooden railing. In one hand he’s supporting a rod, the wire of which is submerged deep in the water, waiting for a bite. There’s a small cooler by his feet alongside a bag of fishing tack. The back of his t-shirt has a large circular graphic on it. It’s well washed but you can make out the ‘sex-wax’ text.
“Yo,” you call out.
He startles then turns. There’s a strange flurry of emotions that cross over his face in a second when he lays eyes on you.
“Hey. How’d you find me?”
“I have my ways,” you reply, finishing the journey to him.
JJ moves so his back rests against the fence, body now facing you, and you pause a comfortable foot or so apart.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh?”
“I was kind’a an asshole at the movie store, the other day,” you say, uncomfortable in your confession. The proud twitch of his brow doesn't go unnoticed. “So, I figured it was only right to fess up.”
“Mhm. Anything in particular brought this on?” JJ wonders innocently.
You smile at that, rolling your eyes. Nevertheless, you play along. “You know, it’s so weird. This voice came over the speakers at school yesterday and it got me thinking.”
“Oh? You know who it was?”
“I don’t know,” you sigh, scratching your hairline. “Maybe God?”
“You sure it weren’t an angel?” he checks, tongue poking through his teeth with his boyish grin.
“Nah, but he sure had the voice of one,” you play along.
The entertained lift of JJ’s brows makes your smile flatten into something more genuine.
“Did you get in trouble for it?”
“For breaking into Kook Academy and hacking your intercom?” JJ asks. His face scrunches up as he shakes his head falsely. “Nah.”
“Mhm. Sure.”
“I’m a pro, sweetheart. I was in and out, like an ops-mission,” he recounts, using his free hand to gesture lamely like a discount spy.
You roll your eyes once more and move to stand next to him, separated only by the cooler. Leaning your arms forward on the jetty fence, you sigh and close your eyes, basking in the sun.
“What’re you doing right now?”
“Right now?” you say, opening your eyes to look at him. He nods. “Nothing much.”
“Wanna go to the break? Hear the waves are meant to be pretty sweet today,” JJ asks.
Your lips twitch at the corners. His seem to mirror. “Sure, yeah. Sounds good.”
“Sweet. Lemme just pack this stuff up,” he says. “My friend’s lent me his car for the day so we can ride there in that.”
There was a rumour that you nearly drowned when you went surfing with JJ. That one was completely made up.
The water is so blue you can almost taste it. The gradient of blues and aquamarines is mouthwatering in beauty.
Sighing, your feet sink into the sand, desensitised to the burn on the soles of your feet. On one shoulder you have your rucksack. It’s packed with snacks that the two of you picked up from a local shop: granola bars and a large back of chips, that sort of thing. JJ found some cans of soda when turfing through the cooler. Tucked under your other arm is a surfboard that JJ’s letting you borrow; there were three attached to the roof of the beat-up camper van he’s borrowing. JJ’s carrying a tattered looking picnic blanket that he dragged off the backseats and his own board. It seems JJ’s surfboard is the thing that is the best kept out of all the belongings he has.
JJ whistles. “Pretty good swell, huh?”
“Hell yeah,” you agree.
He walks in front and dumps the picnic blanket, lazily spreading it out with his foot. You put the rucksack down with it before leaning down to place your board carefully on the sand. As you go to stand, you find your eyes falling on JJ’s back. He’s tugging off his shirt, lats and triceps tensing and relaxing with the quick change. You can’t help but stare. The guy’s in good shape – nobody can disagree with that. He turns and catches your eye just before you can divert your gaze to the water, frowning as if assessing the waves. There’s an amused smirk that comes to his face, cocky like always.
“Enjoying the view?” he asks.
Your face scrunches in deliberation. You pretend that he’s referring to the sea. “Yeah; the waves look pretty strong.”
“Mhm,” he hums, entertained.
It’s then that you decide to seek some revenge. Casually, like the whole situation doesn’t make your heartbeat with elated anxiety, you pull your top off, revealing a crotchet-style bikini top. Living in Kildare meant that bikinis instead of underwear were sort of a given. Unbuttoning your shorts, you wiggle them down your body before stepping out and tossing them on the blanket. Glancing up, acting as if you’d completely forgotten JJ was there, you quirk a brow. He’s staring shamelessly at your body.
“Something up?”
“Not yet,” he mumbles.
It’s hard to bite back your smile. Hard, but not impossible. Dipping down to retrieve the board, you strain a little as you lift it.
“Come on. We’re wasting daylight,” you tell him, walking past towards the water.
“Yes ma’am,” you hear him say.
The crunch of sand behind you tells you he’s following. Then, his pace picks up and he’s rushing past, taking a moment to dab at your head jokingly.
“Hey!”
His laugh is light like buttercream frosting. You chase after him, towards the break, and soon enough you’re sliding atop of your board and paddling through the wake. JJ’s just a bit ahead. His back glistens in the sunlight with saltwater. You swallow your pride and dignity and let your eyes trail up his legs and butt. The water makes his clothes stick more than usual. He steadily rises to his feet, finding his balance on the board in such a natural manner that one would think he was born on it. The way he leans forward and back is effortless. He tames the waves like a creature of the sea, dipping on the currents and following the dives. You can’t help but sit up on your board for a moment and watch. His face is tight with concentration but the joy is as clear as the water. The sharp edge of his jawline teases you as you watch him surf. The tremble of your heart and knot in your stomach isn’t unfamiliar and yet it still catches you by surprise. To distract yourself, you paddle out some more before rising to your feet.
You know the old saying ‘time flies when you’re having fun’? You never much believed it until today. The two of you must have been on the water for an hour. Somehow, simultaneously, the two of you agree that it’s time to call it off. The scratchy over-washed cotton of the blanket is only slightly uncomfortable on your legs as you sit. JJ takes your rucksack and digs about for a snack. You opt for taking in the quietness of the beach; it feels as though you’re the only souls for miles.
“Who’s this?” JJ asks.
You glance over to find JJ holding up a photo he’d taken from your wallet. A part of you wants to make a jab about how he’s snooping around, but you don’t. Instead, you smile weakly.
“My mom.”
“Oh,” JJ says, looking back down at the photo with new interest. “She’s pretty. Can see where you get your looks from.”
“Thanks,” you smile.
JJ reaches back into the back and pulls a can of soda free. He tosses it to you and you crack it open.
“I go through phases of having it in there,” you say, nodding down to the photo that he continues to hold. “Sometimes I want it around and other times I don’t. I know that probably sounds dumb.”
“No, it doesn’t,” JJ responds rather easily.
He tucks the photo back away in the wallet, safe and sound, then grabs a can of sofa for himself. He reclines on his elbows. Your eyes fixate on the shark tooth necklace hung around his neck on a discoloured piece of yarn. It rises and falls with each steady breath he takes. As your eyes trail down his stomach, you notice the water droplets drying in the sunlight. In a desperate effort not to stare, you find yourself watching him crack his feet, outstretching them on the sand. Crossing your legs, you take a sip of your soda and glance back up to his face. Then, you follow JJ’s line of sight to the water. The routine of the waves pulling in and pulling back, over and over, is calming in a way few other things are. As the sky’s mosaic of colour darkens by the minute, the water reflects it back like a mirror with a pretty shimmer.
“Sometimes I wish I had a photo of my ma.”
“Don’t you?” you ask, looking to him again.
He shakes his head. “My dad went on this crazy rager when she left and burnt up all her stuff. I was too young and stupid to take a photo for myself and hide it somewhere.”
“Bold of you to assume that you’re not still those things.”
JJ snorts, shooting you a glance. “Thanks.”
You smile back but correct your manners. “Seriously though, that sucks. I’m sorry.” It’s a lame understatement for the reality of it, but it’s all you can think to say. Tenderness isn’t something that comes very naturally for you.
He shrugs, looking back to the water. You know he’s trying to act like it doesn’t bother him, and maybe if you’d only met yesterday, you’d believe it, but there’s something about his composure that tells you that it isn’t true.
“I just wish I could remember what she looks like, y’know?” he says, looking to you once more as if seeking affirmation. You give a small nod. “I mean, I can’t even remember her voice. Not that it should matter. Fuck her, right? She’s the one who left.”
He takes a hasty sip of his soda, breaking eye contact. You frown and watch him, and deliberate whether to speak your mind. I mean, of course you’re going to, but it feels good to deliberate first.
“Well, no, not ‘fuck her’,” you eventually say.
JJ looks to you, eyebrows knotted: bordering on angry.
You continue. “I think it ain’t that simple. It’s why I go through phases of having that photo of my mom in my wallet. You can be mad at someone and still miss them. At least I think you can. They’re not binary things, or mutually exclusive. So, I don’t think it’s as simple as ‘fuck her’.”
There’s a moment where JJ just looks at you, as if he’s soaking you in the same way the two of you are basking in the warmth of the sun. It’s a certain kind of stare; the kind where you don’t feel calculated under his gaze but unquestionably seen. There’s a momentary concern that you’ve offended him but then JJ gains this almost-smile that’s becoming more and more familiar to you, and he nods.
“I’ve never really talked to anyone about her before,” JJ confesses.
You smile sadly. “Me too. About my mom, I mean. Dad shuts down when I bring it up and Charlotte…She remembers things differently.”
“Well, it’s nice to talk about it.”
“Yeah,” you agree. “It is nice.”
The whispering of sea waves melts into the sound of songbirds and geese, singing and squawking in a weirdly melodic harmony. There’re crickets in the dunes which chime in from time to time and you take a moment to look back to the water, close your eyes, and enjoy it all.
“So, what’s your excuse for it?”
“My excuse for what?” you wonder, never opening your eyes.
“You know.” There’s a soft scrape on your skin as JJ kicks some sand off his feet and onto yours. “For acting the way we do.”
Sighing, you deliberate on how to answer. JJ has this way of opening you up. With others, you were hard-shelled and closed off, but like a pistachio, he knew where to pry just right to get you to spill. It was like he already knew the password so you never questioned letting him through the door.
“I don’t want to care what people think of me. It makes no difference, whether I impress them or not, so what should it matter? Why should I waste my time with it?”
“‘Makes no difference?’ Like makes no difference whether they stick around?” JJ wonders.
You open your eyes and look to him, a little taken aback by how easily he translated your words. “Sure. Like that.”
“Like your mom?”
It doesn’t affect you when he asks that. If someone else were to, your fury would spike suddenly and you’d snap. Say something you’d regret. But maybe because JJ might understand more than others, it doesn’t. So, you nod.
“Yeah,” you quietly reply. “Like my mom.”
“I get that,” JJ muses. It’s with that small token that you feel comfortable to elaborate.
“I think it really came clear after she left, how fake people can be,” you say. “Seeing how all our so-called friends reacted. At the Yacht Club, my dad was the laughingstock. Everyone talked about him, about mom leaving, like they didn’t know him. Like he wasn’t this great guy - which he is - and like they hadn’t been drinking cocktails and pints on his tab for years. It was so fake. That’s when I realised that people will think whatever they want to, even if they say another thing. So…why bend yourself backwards to try and change it?”
Sniffing, JJ nods in understanding as he digests your story. His toes dig into the damp sand and you find your own spare hand reaching out and playing with the grains, sifting through them soothingly.
“What about you? Why do you act the way we do?”
“I guess the same, in a way,” JJ replies. You notice that he likes to gaze ahead when he talks about himself, like eye-contact is too painful. Too vulnerable. “With my dad being who he is, people just assume the worst about me. I’m sick of trying to prove them wrong. They’re gonna think what they wanna think so what’s the point, right?”
“The ones who care enough won’t judge a book by its cover. They’ll get to know you and see through all the bullshit,” you assure him.
His head turns with that. Unblinking, he asks, “like you?”
You’re momentarily stunned by the bluntness of the question but soon enough, you’re smiling at him.
“Yeah. Like me.”
When JJ smiles, his teeth peak through in this adorably youthful way. There’re dimples that poke through his cheeks and no tension in his forehead or jaw. Just happiness. You like him like this, all tousled and sun-kissed and seawater bathed. It’s strange. Sitting here with him on the beach feels like the first time you’ve ever been to the water and truly appreciated it. It’s like you’d always thought you would sink, so you never swam. But now, with JJ looking at you the way he is, and the way the two of you seem to click in an inexplicable manner – as if you’d been the two missing parts of the other’s jigsaw puzzle – you realise that maybe you were wrong to make such an assumption.
“It’s weird. We come from such different lifestyles but I don’t think anyone understands me as good as you do.”
JJ’s voice is quiet but not small when he tells you this. It’s a private thought that you’re honoured for him to have shared. There’s only one way you can think to answer.
Leaning forward, you leave your drink abandoned on the blanket and cup his jaw, fingers damp from condensation. His lips meet yours willingly. The kiss the two of you fall into makes your feelings for him all the more obvious to you, and all the more terrifying.
There was a lot of rumours about the both of you. Some were true, and some were not.
JJ drops the campervan off at his friend John B’s house. It’s this quaint fishing shack that could definitely do with a lick of paint on the boarding, and a few fresh nails to keep the porch from caving in on itself. But it’s homely by how clearly lived-in it is. There’s no emotionless ornaments like in your house; only fishing gear, empty cans of beer by the stairs leading up to the front door, and far-from-new throw pillows. You wait on the grass at the bottom of the stairs as JJ heads up to the door, skipping one of the steps entirely. He raps with his knuckles on the door before letting himself in.
“Yo! John B, you home?”
“Back here!” you hear a guy call back. JJ vanishes into the house, car keys in hand, ready to hand them over.
Shoving your hands in your short pockets, you glance out to the backyard. There’s an impressive sized tree from which a hammock hangs, and a less than stable looking jetty. A sort-of shed stands, filled with all sorts of tools and gear, and a half-waxed board lies on a table.
“Alright, let’s bounce,” JJ says, reappearing. He hops off the porch and grabs your hand like it’s second nature, guiding the two of you away from the house.
“You known John B a long time?”
“Since kindergarten,” JJ replies.
“Damn. Don’t think I’ve ever known someone that long. Well, apart from Charlotte.”
“What’s her deal, anyway?”
“Who? Charlotte?”
“Yeah. Like, is she as conceited as everyone says she is?”
Your brows quirk up. “People say she’s conceited?”
Watching JJ fumble and stumble over his tongue is entertaining. He looks to you, mildly panicked. “Well, like, I don’t say that but—”
“I’m just messing with you,” you grin. He unconsciously gives a small sigh of relief. “I know she’s conceited. And spoilt. And bratty.”
“Hm. Sounds like you’re really fond of her,” JJ chuckles.
You laugh under breath and rock your head from side to side in deliberation. “She’s hard to love but harder to hate.”
“That’s ice cold, girl,” JJ whistles.
The moment your feet hit the tarmac of a main road, you realise that you’ve been following the blonde-haired boy blind.
“Where are we going, by the way?”
“To mine.”
“To yours?”
JJ seems to catch onto the innuendo. He looks to you and adds, “my bike’s there. I can give you a ride home.”
“Oh.” Something inside you sinks with disappointment. You don’t dwell on it though. “Thanks.”
The weight of JJ’s fingers nestled between yours is casually intimate. Usually you’d feel coddled and clammy and want to pull away, but instead you feel safe.
“What’d you think I meant? When I said we were heading to mine?” JJ asks you.
You quirk a brow and pull a face which seems to be answer enough. He cracks up. “I mean…I’m down if you’re down…”
“Slow and steady, JJ Maybank. Slow and steady,” you return with a grin.
“That’s my motto baby,” is his sultry reply, topped off with a wink.
You’d be lying if you said your body didn’t flush with that comment.
“You’ve got a reputation, JJ. I’m not gonna be another notch on your belt,” you jokingly say.
JJ rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, half of my reputation is bullshit rumours.”
“Same here, amigo.”
“Yeah, I’ve gotta admit, I’ve heard some pretty batshit things about you,” JJ tunefully says.
Smirking, you turn to look at him. “Oh really? Like what?”
He takes a moment to think. The eventide light shadows his skin like a painting. “The state trooper?”
Ah. You remember that one. Bobby Cromack spread a rumour that you’d kicked a state trooper in the balls during a protest. On accounts that no protest ever existed that month in Kildare, that was a lie.
“False,” you say. You take the opportunity to debunk some of that you’d heard about JJ. One that you were certain wasn’t true was the rumour that he ate an entire turtle raw. “The turtle?”
He blows a raspberry. “Bullshit. The college guy?”
“Hearsay,” you say. Apparently, a friend of a friend of someone at Kildare Academy saw you at a frat college party in Wilmington, snorting coke off some guy’s chest. Incredible how easily fake news flies. “The hooker?”
“Lies,” he debunks. So, JJ didn’t lose his virginity to a prostitute. “The Banksy side-gig?”
You guffaw. “Complete crap.”
Yes, it appeared that people at school thought you were spending your free time running around Kildare, throwing up mediocre spray paint art as an act of rebellion. Stunning.
“Damn. You’re just full of disappointments, ain’t ya?”
JJ leads the two of you up a small dirt road and through a culmination of trees and shrubs, a house begins to emerge. It’s slightly bigger than John B’s but still small. It is somehow even more banged up, but not in an inviting way like his friend’s. No, this place looks desolate and lonely. Sad even. You feel a sympathetic tug when you notice JJ’s shoulders tense at the sight of it. You’re not even sure he realises that he’s doing it. There’s a bright red bike that you recognise; it’s sheltered under a small shack in the garden. It seems that neither of you are ready to close off the conversation yet. Instead, JJ takes you to the steps of his porch and the two of you sit. You lean against one pillar and him against the other. The wood is splintering and the paint is peeling off in strips. Facing one another, you slot your feet between his staple combat boots.
“Tell me something true.”
“Something true?” he checks, rubbing at his jaw. You nod. “I don’t like snakes.”
Laughing, you shake your head. He seems to like your laugh, smiling at the sound and sight. “No. Something real.”
JJ reaches out and plays with one of your laces.
“Something nobody else knows,” you explicate.
“Okay,” JJ nods. He retracts his fingers from your shoe, using his hand to help him keep his balance as he leans forward. You can smell the salt on the skin of his neck from the sea as he presses a kiss to your skin. There’s something sensual about the warmth of his breath on the apple of your cheek.
“You’re sweet,” he says. Your lips push together, suppressing your smile, and JJ pulls back only to move to the other cheek. “And sexy.” He pulls back so he can plant a kiss on your lips. You love how JJ kisses. “And completely hot for me.”
You guffaw, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “You’re amazingly self-assured, has anyone ever told you that?”
He frowns momentarily before nodding, saying, “I tell myself that everyday, actually.”
The smile that his joking response brings you quickly fades when he kisses you again. There’s something different about this kiss. Something passionate, and emotive, and sensuous. When his hand reaches up to cup at the place where your jaw fades into your neck, you find yourself leaning into his hold, deepening the kiss. The brush of his tongue on yours sends electricity shooting from your head, down your spine, straight through your toes. It’s over all too soon. When he speaks, he’s close, and he asks his question against your lips.
“Go to the Spring Ball with me.”
“What?” you dumbly ask, eyes slowly opening.
“The Yacht club spring ball. Go with me,” JJ clarifies.
Your smile doesn’t falter as you gaze into his eyes, admiring the flecks of colour. The answer is easy. “No.”
His brows gently tug together. Smiling, he repeats, “come on, go with me.”
“Is that a request or a demand?” you half-joke. The magic of the moment is dissipating as quick as vapour. He doesn’t reply but the way he holds your gaze suggests that he’s still waiting for an answer. “No.”
“No? Why not?”
You pull away now. “Because I don’t want to. Because it’s a dumb tradition for fake rich people.”
“Come on! People won’t expect you to go. Plus, it’d be a laugh seeing the look on those Kook asshole faces when you show up with me, don’t you think?” JJ prompts.
You frown. Something manifests in your gut. It weighs heavy like a stone. Cocking your head, creating more distance between the two of you, you ask, “why are you pushing this?”
JJ’s lips part. You see them try to form words but nothing comes out. It makes you prod further.
“What’s in it for you?”
He turns, sitting fully on the porch, feet side by side on the step below. You watch his side profile and notice how his jaw ticks and tightens, like he’s annoyed. Like you telling him no has annoyed him. That stone turns into a rock.
“So, you’re saying I need a motive to be with you now?” JJ asks, tone clipped.
Your anger ticks. “You tell me.”
He scoffs and shakes his head, glancing out to the unkept yard. Suddenly, he looks to you. There’s a dark, twisted look on his face that’s so scarily unfamiliar. “You need therapy, you know that? Has anyone ever told you that before? Like you’re actually sick in the head.”
The words hit like darts aimed straight for your heart. You swallow the pain and keep your gaze steely but your voice gives you away. It’s shrinking and holds no conviction as you say, “answer the question, JJ.”
The ugliness of him only grows as he shakes his head once more. There’s a sick smile on his face that comes and goes quick like a hurricane before he sardonically says, “nothing, alright? Just the pleasure of your company.”
The rock in your gut is a boulder; it makes you feel like you’re sinking into the ground. The shock barely has time to settle before he delivers another blow. You watch JJ dig into his short pockets and pull out a pack of cigarettes, shucking one free and propping it between his lips. He said he was quitting. Scoffing, you reach out and take it as he searches for his lighter. You toss the cigarette carelessly on the ground before getting to your feet, hastily walking away from him. It’s like you can’t get away fast enough. Your arms wrap around you in a far from comforting hug the minute you feel obscured by the foliage. When you realise that JJ isn’t following you, your head dips and lips tremble. With the call of a songbird, your mind flashes back to earlier that day, at the beach, and your tears finally start to fall.
There was a rumour that your sister wanted to go to the spring ball with Rafe. That one was (thankfully) false.
Academics don’t hurt you the way people do. Math equations can’t talk back and Shakespeare quotes don’t bite. Throwing yourself into your studies seems the best way to get your mind of JJ’s cruel words. The look on his face when he snapped at you was so different to the way he’d been with you before. It was cold and callous and downright mean. It was also befuddling, how defensive he got. JJ and Spring Ball didn’t seem like the most obvious pairing to you. You knew that JJ liked to stick-it-to-the-man and get under the Kook’s skin, but pushing the spring ball just to take the piss was so abnormal. Maybe that was what hurt the most.
You’re halfway through analysing a sonnet from Romeo and Juliet when there’s a soft rap on your bedroom door.
“Come in!”
It creaks open and you glance over to find Charlotte. She softly closes it behind her. Then, she takes a seat on your bed.
“What’s up?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” you say, closing your notebook. Spinning around in your desk chair, you face your younger sister.
She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. She stands out like a sore thumb in your bedroom, amongst your old movie posters and tapestries and postcards, and the deep grey and white of your bedsheets. Her blossom pink skirt doesn’t quite fit the theme.
“Why don’t you want to go to the spring ball? Is it just to keep me from going?”
You sigh and look away, down at the floor. Shaking your head, you say, “no. I just don’t like the yacht club people. You know that.”
“You act like you’re not one of us,” Charlotte tells you.
“Because I’m not,” you reply quickly, offended. She quirks a brow.
“Look at where we live! At the car you drive! We’re in a lucky position in life and it’s stupid to act like that isn’t true!”
“I can acknowledge my privilege without leaning into it,” you say.
You weren’t stupid. You knew your socio-economic status gave you an advantage in life. Not once had you ever had to worry about money, or not having dinner on the table, or not being able to go for coffee. Your dad worked hard to get to the place where you were at now; it wasn’t handed to him. Nonetheless, spending more time with JJ, seeing his and John B’s homes, made you realise just how easy you had it. That didn’t mean that you liked the frivolities of the lifestyle, though.
“Look, I know you think the yacht club is dumb and fake and all of that stuff,” Charlotte reals off. “But I actually care about it. I really do. It means something to me.”
“But it’s so—”
“You can preach all you want, but it won’t change my opinion,” Charlotte interrupts. You slam your mouth shut. It’s a fair point (something she rarely makes). “Look, there’s a guy that I really like, and he wants to take me.”
“Rafe?”
“No.” She says it in a way that makes you think she’s almost amused at the thought. “Louis. He’s actually nice.”
“Actually?” You check.
She smiles and nods. She has a pretty smile. “Yes. Actually. But daddy won’t let me go if you don’t and I really want to go.”
You swallow. It’s clear where this conversation is going now. Sighing, you look out the window. It’s windy today. Blossoms keep getting blown from the trees and they pass by your window like fake snow.
“The thing with the yacht club isn’t just as simple as not wanting to get all dressed up for some dumb tradition,” you admit. “I don’t like how they treated dad, after mom left.”
“I know,” she says. Then, after a moment’s thought, adds, “But that wasn’t everyone. Remember how Mrs M brought us casserole for a week? And Mr Cameron invited dad out on a fishing trip? Some people are fake, that’s true, but not everyone. Not everyone has ulterior motives.”
That last sentence has your eyes snapping back to hers. She doesn’t seem to realise what she’s said. In fact, it looks like she’s waiting for you to tear into her like you usually would. But when you take her in, you see a sweet fifteen-year-old girl who’s a little tightly wrapped in cotton wool, who wants an excuse to wear a pretty dress and dance to trashy pop music and get to know a cute guy. The thought of keeping her away from that makes you feel guilty. Plus, if you’re there, at least you can keep an eye on her from the outskirts. Check that this Louis isn’t just another Rafe in disguise.
“Fine.”
She blinks at you, confused. “Fine?”
“I’ll go. We can go.”
“We can!?”
The way her whole face lights up like New York at night makes the night of horror already worthwhile. Starting to smile, you nod. The hug that Charlotte fires at you nearly sends you falling out of your chair. As much as you hate hugs, this one might be the best one you’ve ever had from her.
There was a rumour that JJ’s dad beat him. He never told you that was true, but you had a feeling.
JJ’s house seems eerily quiet. It isn’t the sort of quiet that makes you feel as though nobody’s home. It reminds you of the quiet in the movies when the hostages are hiding from the bad guys. The kind where nobody wants to step on a twig and give away their location. Something about it stops you from heading up the porch and knocking on the door. You’ve barely rounded the corner of the house, about to see what you can spot around the back, when someone is grabbing at you from behind. It’s a man, you can tell by their arms. One wraps around your middle, fastening one of your arms to your side, and the other comes to cover your mouth. It muffles your panicked yelps.
“Calm down, calm down, it’s me,” JJ’s whispering frantically in your ear.
It doesn’t stop your struggling though. He’s barely pulled you away from the house before you shake free, shoving him off you. He takes you by the wrist then, guiding you into the marshland.
“What the hell, JJ!”
“Shut up, alright? He’ll hear,” JJ shortly replies.
You do as he says begrudgingly and let him take you further from the house. Eventually, JJ lets go. He takes a second to catch his breath, bringing his arms up to clasp his hands behind his head, back facing you as he paces.
“What’s going on?” you ask.
He shakes his head. “Don’t matter.”
Turning around, it seems as though his whole demeanour has reset. Well, almost. There’s a tension in his muscles that he can’t fully shake. You overlook it the same way you overlook the bruise forming near his eye. It’s brown and purple. Definitely caused by more than a tap on a doorframe.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“I had to come see you,” you say. Suddenly, with the spotlight on you, the confidence that Charlotte instilled within you falters. “About the other day.”
“The other day?”
“Yeah, on your porch…” you clumsily say.
JJ raises his brows, changing his weight from one leg to the other. It seems easier to fixate on his cap rather than meet his eyes. It’s green and purposefully frayed on the edges; it compliments his skin tone well. Swallowing your pride with a sigh, you awkwardly twiddle your fingers.
“I came to apologise for how I reacted.”
“You did?”
Your eyes dart down from his hat to meet his. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have questioned your motives. It was dumb of me, and stupid, and…dumb.”
“Said that one already.”
“Shut up.”
“Right.”
You sigh and rub at your forehead like this conversation is causing you a headache. It turns out pride and stubbornness are sisters.
“Anyway, I just wanted to come and say sorry and see if you still wanted to go. Maybe,” you rush out.
“You wanna go to the spring ball?” JJ frowns.
“Yeah. Charlotte wants to go and my dad—You know what, that doesn’t matter. Because you’re right,” you tell him, cutting yourself off in the process.
His eyebrows almost shoot into his hairline with that. Something tells you that he doesn’t hear that phrase a whole lot.
“It would be funny to rub it in the kook-club faces. And maybe I’d actually enjoy the night if I went with you.”
JJ purses his lips and plants his hands on his hips, looking off to the greenery. You know what he’s doing. He’s basking in this moment, with you stood, tail between your legs, and milking it for what it’s worth. It isn’t exactly amusing, but it does somehow ease your anxiety.
“So, you’re saying that I’m right and that you want me to take you to your fancy spring ball?”
“Yes,” you reply through gritted teeth.
“Huh.” JJ nods, pulling a face. “So this is what it feels like to be right…"
Silence.
"It’s oddly unsettling.”
“Look, do you wanna go or not, cause I’ve got plenty of other things I can do with—”
JJ makes it to you with two large strides. Your face is enveloped by his hands as he guides your lips to yours in a smooch-like kiss. It’s awfully annoying how all of your worries seem to melt away with that one gesture.
“Yes. I’ll go with you,” JJ says the minute he pulls back.
You want his lips on yours again already, but you practice restraint. Bringing a hand up to lay over one of his, you look up into his eyes. God, he’s so dreamy.
“I’m sorry for questioning your motives,” you repeat, more sincerely now.
JJ swallows before nodding. “You’re, uh, you’re forgiven. I’m sorry too, for saying the things that I did. I gotta pretty ugly temper sometimes and I just speak without thinking.”
You missed the smile that comes to your face. Nobody makes you smile like JJ does. Nobody gets you like JJ does either. As if trying to tell him so, you lean up and kiss him again. You can feel his smile against yours, melding and merging like you’re two of the same souls. You assume that this is JJ’s way of saying yes; he’ll join you to the spring ball.
There was a rumour that your sister punched Rafe at the spring ball. That one you weren’t sure about.
The yacht club was a cream building with pastel green shutters and doors. It stood in front of the beach, surrounded by perfectly trimmed green fields and a stone’s throw from a golf course. Several flags stuck out of the thatched roof, waving proudly in the air. For the spring ball, the porch had been decorated with ivy and flowers. Purple and blue blossoms were intertwined with foliage and string-lights, dancing up the poles as if growing. The main event was held in the back, facing the sea. The extensive decorations continued, only now with white sheer-like fabric hanging from place to place, creating somewhat of a shelter. A makeshift dancefloor was put down using wooden boards directly before a small stage for live musicians to perform throughout the night. Tables for snacks which looked as though they’d been meticulously crafted by God himself lined the back wall of the building.
“Holy crap,” you can’t help but mutter at the sight of it all.
JJ whistles lowly in wordless agreement. His fingers intertwine with yours, squeezing, and you look up to him.
“Ready for this?” he asks.
“Are you?”
He grins with that. “Baby, I was born ready to show these Kooks a good time.”
You roll your eyes, smile flowering on your features, and guide the two of you up the porch. The moment you pass Mr and Mrs Johnson, dressed in the over-the-top attire, you hear their hushed whispers. It makes your smile grow.
JJ manages to snag a couple of drinks for the two of you from the bar. You sip and lead the two of you outside, into the belly of the beast. Adults stand chatting away, gushing falsely over their lives. Did you hear the Carol got accepted into Yale? Oh, isn’t it just marvellous! You spot Charlotte fairly quickly and it brightens the night. She’s dancing with Louis, giggling like a child on Christmas morning, and he’s watching her like she hung the stars shining in the sky above.
You and JJ find a quieter spot to the side to people watch. Your leg rests against his as you perch, sipping on the champagne.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” JJ says, breaking the silence.
Looking to him, you smile. He’s the only person who can make you bashful. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, I kinda forget to say earlier,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. You love when he does that. It makes you giddy to know you have that kind of effect on him.
“Well, what I think you said was ‘wow’,” you correct.
You know that’s what he said. You think the look on his face, somewhat mesmerised, and the way that the words made your heart hammer like you’d run a marathon, will be permanently etched in your memory.
JJ smiles, looking down to his shoes. You have no idea where he got them from. They’re seemingly brand-new leather loafers, starkly different to his worn-down combat boots.
“You don’t clean up too bad yourself, Maybank,” you clumsily compliment.
He shrugs, confidence somewhat boosted. Glancing down at you, he asks, “Oh really?”
“Mhm. Kinda like you in a penguin suit,” you say.
You fix his collar just for an excuse to touch him. He seems to realise this, wrapping his fingers around your wrist to hold it steady before dipping his head down. Your lips meet his in a chaste kiss that has your toes squirming.
“You wanna walk around. Show my penguin suit off to a few more people?”
You laugh quietly, nodding. “Sure.”
The peruse of the party is probably heightened by the alcohol that JJ keeps managing to sneak for the two of you. At any opportunity, you’re whispering in his ear or his in yours with jokes and jabs about people’s outfits. Rose, looking like lady liberty. Mr Dulany, here to haunt us from his grave. As the night rumbles on, you find yourself actually enjoying it. Somehow, someway, the two of you find yourselves on the dance floor. You’re letting JJ swing you around in some makeshift jive to the mini orchestra’s upbeat rhythm. His theatrics have you practically doubling over. JJ was born with two left feet and then some. You don’t care though. It’s perfect.
When the song ends, there’s a lull as the band catches their breath and sips on some water. The crowd applauses, including yourself, and JJ nods at you as if approving of the talent. It makes you laugh even more. Just as you go to make a joke about it, an all too familiar swell of violins emerges from the stage. Your lips part, head darting over, hands pausing mid-applause, because there’s no way. There is no way that they’re playing what you think they’re playing.
The melody materialises out of the melancholic chords and your heart breaks into a million pieces. Cinema Paradiso: Love Theme.
You scoff in wonderous disbelief, extending a finger dumbly to the stage as you look to JJ, mouth agape. He’s grinning, watching you like he was waiting for your reaction. It patches your heart back together in an instant.
“They’re…” you begin to say.
He nods. Leaning forward, beside your ear, he tells you, “I called in a favour.”
You pull back suddenly, meeting his gaze, checking for some sign of a lie. But he isn’t. He’s smiling, sweet and safe, and you can’t help but step towards him and wrap your arms over his shoulders, around his neck. He accepts your embrace willingly, hands finding solace around your waist. JJ holds you against him as the two of you sway. You practically hide your face in the lapel of his blazer, smiling like a drunk. He did this for you. He remembered this specific song, this specific reprise, for you. The weight of the realisation nearly brings you to tears. Nearly.
In this cocoon of JJ, it feels as though the music coils around the two of you like a snake, trapping you in the lovingly lugubrious song. It ties in perfectly with the distant sound of the ocean. That’s when you realise that you’ll never be able to hear either of those things again without thinking of the seventeen-year-old boy who busted his ass to win you over. You have no idea what you did to deserve him, or what possessed him to pursue you, but whatever it was, you’re eternally grateful.
It takes a split-second to register the hand shoving at your shoulder. It pushes you apart from JJ, making you stumble over your heels as they catch in your dress. After untangling it, you look up to find Rafe’s back facing you. Stepping around him, about to intervene, you see JJ’s face. Something about his expression stops you. He looks anxious.
No.
He looks terrified.
“Look, I didn’t pay you to take out her psycho sister just so some little punk can take out Charlotte instead.”
In that instant, JJ looks like someone who’s just found out his whole religion is a lie, and it’s his fault.
The words parse together slowly. Each syllable as it registers feels like another vice wrapping around your lungs, robbing you of air.
Pay you…
To take out…
Her psycho sister…
JJ isn’t looking at Rafe. He’s not even acknowledging that he exists. He’s staring at you. It doesn’t feel like his usual stare; the kind that makes you feel like he can see you through smog. No. It makes you feel exploited.
That’s when you finally find enough oxygen in your body to form some words.
“Nothing in it for you, huh?”
That same God-awful feeling from the other days returns but tenfold stronger. The urge to just get as far away from JJ as humanly possible. The urge to run. You turn and rush away from the dancefloor, from the crowds, from whatever chaos is bound to follow Rafe like a shadow. From JJ. From the only person you’ve ever really trusted since your mom.
Even though you’re outside, the air feels suffocating. You’re trying to navigate your way around the building, to the carpark where you can call an Uber or just walk home. Anything, anything¸ but stay here, near him.
But JJ’s persistent. You’d known that from the moment you met him. You can hear him calling for you, his voice desperate, and it makes everything hurt even more. He’s faster than you, especially when you’re wearing heels. When he catches up to you, his fingers wrap around your upper arm.
“Please! Please, just lemme explain!” JJ pleads.
“You were paid to take me out by the one person I truly hate.”
You shake him off and turn to face him. He looks guilty as sin and you can’t do it. Can’t bare it. Turning again, you continue to walk away.
“I knew this was a set up.”
The gut feeling from the porch is so horrifically ironic. You should have known. You should have known.
“It wasn’t like that!” JJ insists.
“Really?” You snap. He grabs for you again and you stop, meeting his gaze. You’re not sure how you’re not sobbing. “What was it like? A down payment now and then a bonus for sleeping with me?”
“No, look, I didn’t care about the money, alright!?” JJ desperately insists. You can’t seem to look away. His eyes hold so much feeling but it all feels so lifeless now. “I…I cared about you.”
It all feels so fake.
“I don’t believe you,” you whisper.
Shaking your head, you swallow thickly. The tears finally come, teasing at your waterline, stinging like Rafe’s words from moments ago.
“You’re so not who I thought you were.”
JJ almost physically winces. You push his hand off your arm and go to leave but he’s relentless. He takes you by the wrist with a firm grip, his other hand taking you by the jaw. Then his lips are on yours. The kiss isn’t like the others. It’s dirty and disgusting and disingenuous and desperate, and you shove him off by the shoulders. You glance over him, wet cheeked, like he didn’t cause this. But he did. He hurt you. He hurt you.
This time, when you walk away, JJ doesn’t chase you. Maybe that’s what hurts most of all.
There was a rumour that JJ was paid to take you out. That one was horrifically, painfully true.
When your mom left you cried for a week. Endlessly, morning through to night, tear after tear. It would sometimes pass, but then it would hit again, out of the blue, like a boat colliding with an iceberg in the sea in the vast darkness of night. But after a week, you didn’t have anything left. You just felt hollow and empty. Then you promised that you wouldn’t cry about her anymore.
“You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.”
You sigh and try to focus on the comforting black and white picture on your laptop. George Bailey stands beside sweet little Mary, stood in the night.
“Hey, that’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Mary.”
“I’ll take it.”
The gentle knock on your door is almost a blessing. It’s hard to distract yourself from the awful pain in your chest.
“Come in,” you call out.
Charlotte creeps in, closing the door behind her. She leans against it and looks at you. You’re wallowing in your bed, tucked under a blanket, surrounded by comfort snacks that Mia brought for you and tissues.
“What’s up?” you ask her when she doesn’t speak.
She shakes her head and walks over, climbing onto the bed. She crawls around so she can lie on her back, and you wordlessly turn yourself over, rest your head on her stomach, and begin to cry for what feels like the millionth time. Her fingers lovingly stroke your hair, soothing you through your pain. Suddenly, you’re immensely thankful for your sister. You wouldn’t want her any other way than how she is, no matter how whiny and spoilt she can sometimes get.
“Charlotte?” you sniffle.
“Yeah?” she quietly asks.
It feels like another splinter cracks into your heart as the confession falls from your lips. “I really miss mom.”
She’s still a moment, and then she’s wrapping her arms around you, hugging you tight and close. For once, you don’t pull back. You let yourself be held by your little sister.
“I know,” she whispers. “I do too.”
There was a rumour that JJ regretted what he did. You weren’t sure if that one was true, but you wanted to know.
About a week after the spring ball, you finally brave the outside world. The old movie shop is your first point of call considering you made your way through all your ‘to be watched’ films in the past seven days. It’s nice knowing that you won’t run into anyone in the shop; that you can lose yourself to the world of fiction in sepia and black and white.
The brass bell chimes as you walk through the door.
“Hiya Lucy,” you say.
She glances up from the spreadsheet she’s ticking at, smiling at the sight of you. Then, as if something dawns upon her, she’s waving out her hands for you to pause. “I have something to give you!”
“Oh?”
You didn’t put anything on hold. Wandering over to the counter, you lean against it as Lucy ducks down to rummage for something under the desk. Eventually, she heaves an old typewriter onto the counter.
“What…”
“There’s a note, too,” she says, bobbing back down to search.
Whilst she looks, you reach out a finger and trace it over the iron letters. They’re cold and a little dusty, and beautifully ornate. It’s painted black with gold accents. You’ve never seen something so beautifully vintage. Maybe your dad or Charlotte put it aside for you, as a pick-me-up. You can’t imagine it to be very cheap, not with the quality it is in and the year it was made.
“Here,” Lucy sighs. She holds out a small envelope for you. You take it with a small thanks and open it up.
For you to write your movies.
JJ
The two initials printed in black ink make you pause. You stare at it, throat constricting painfully at the sight. You look to the typewriter again and then back to the note. Just like everything else with JJ, you’re overcome by a confusing concoction of emotions.
Remembering Lucy, you flash her a hopefully unbothered smile and tuck the note in your back pocket.
“Thanks, Lucy,” you say. You brace yourself and lift the typewriter with a huff.
“You got it?”
“Yep, yep,” you strain, beginning towards the door. Some nice old lady holds it open for you as you struggle out, hollering a farewell to the storeowner as you go.
The whole drive home, the typewriter watches you. It watches you as you park and it watches you fight your way up the stairs. Finally, in the quiet of your room, you sit and digest the note. It’s funny that a one sentence message has left you so stumped. But you don’t know what it means. An apology, most likely. But is that enough? An apology for lying to your face for over a month. For letting you open up to him and for letting you believe that he was doing the same, only to find out there was a paycheck at the end.
It's so frustrating that no matter how you try to, and no matter how much easier it would be if you did, you just don’t hate him. You don’t. You can’t. You can’t believe that everything that happened between you was a front. Every little anecdote and gesture, ever look and kiss, was all an act. It just can’t be. Just like you’d said to JJ on the beach, feelings aren’t mutually exclusive. ‘You can be mad at someone and still miss them.’ Is that what this was?
Pulling open your desk drawer, you turf around for some pages of plain paper. You tuck them into the typewriter and practice a few of the keys. There’s the aesthetic clack as they mark the page and the ping when the edge of the page is met. Once you feel confident in how it works, you slot a new piece of paper in the machine and sigh. And then, you begin to type.
I hate the way you talk to me
And the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car.
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots
And the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick.
It even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you’re always right.
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh
Even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you’re not around
And the fact that you didn’t call.
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you.
Not even close.
Not even a little bit.
Not even at all.
You reread the poem time and time again. It feels like healing, in a strange way, almost as if you’re soothing your wounds with a homemade balm. Finally, for the first time in a week, you feel yourself give a genuine smile. Gently taking the paper from the typewriter, you deliberate what to do with it. The answer comes to you clear like the water at daybreak.
There was a rumour…
Like clockwork, you find JJ on the fishing jetty. His back is to you once more, only this time he’s wearing a loose navy-blue button shirt. Those same cargo shorts and those same combat boots adorn his lower half. His long, tousled mousy-blonde hair is out free, not buried under a cap: your favourite style on him. You make your way down the jetty slowly, giving yourself time to change your mind. There’s a nervousness in your stomach and it doubles when JJ glances over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps. The moment he sees you, he leaves his rod propped and turns around fully.
“Hey,” he breaths.
You come to a stop in front of him, leaving a safe distance. “Hey.”
“What, uh…I didn’t know you were coming here,” he eventually says.
You shrug. “I didn’t know I was, ‘til now.”
He nods, uneasy, and pushes his fingers through his hair. His wonderful nervous fidget. You love that one almost as much as the neck scratch.
“The typewriter?”
“Hm?”
“The typewriter. What’s that for?”
He shrugs, gesturing out to you. “For your movies. So you can write those films that you wanna make.”
“But what’s it for?”
JJ catches your gaze and flounders. He shakes his head and glances off, inspecting a corner of the jetty. You take a step forward but he seems to think you’re going to leave, because suddenly he’s looking up at you again and talking. “I’m really sorry about how everything went down.”
You pause in place and watch him. In one of your hands is the poem, folded up into a tiny rectangle, withered at the seams from fiddling.
JJ shakes his head. “I’m not proud of it. At first, I was happy to. I mean, I was getting paid to take out some random chick. I don’t come from much and that amount of money can stretch a long way.”
“I know,” you quietly say.
“No, you don’t,” JJ says. He isn’t exactly angry; it seems he just wants to be clear. “My dad’s a deadbeat, alright? He gets fired from every gig he gets and I gotta help keep the lights on. It ain’t your fault, and I’m not blaming you, but you don’t know what it’s like living from paycheck to paycheck. You ain’t ever had to worry about going hungry, or not having gas or power for a week, or going without internet for a month. So, when Rafe offered me $50, course I said yes. I’m a scumbag who’s dirt-broke with no fucking morals.”
You can’t help but close your eyes. It hurts to hear him talk about himself like that. It hurts to hear him admit to taking the money.
“But then I actually got to know you,” JJ continues.
He’s watching you when you open your eyes. Gauging your reaction.
“And I meant everything I said to you. I didn’t make any of that shit up – the real stuff. And I meant it when I said nobody has ever understood me like you do,” JJ tells you. His voice is thick and weighty with emotion.
You purse your lips in a bid to keep from crying. “What about the movies?”
“Well, I didn’t like them all that much before I met you,” JJ admits. “But you’ve made me a fan. To be honest, they make me think of you.”
“And the typewriter?” you can’t help but ask.
JJ’s lips tease to smile. “Well, this asshole paid me a whole bunch of money to take this really cool chick out. But I messed up and I fell for her, so I had to do something useful with the money.”
Your thumb brushes over the paper of the poem. It feels like a safety blanket. You can’t tear your eyes from his and it seems he feels the same. He nods, gently, as if confirming whatever doubt you have.
“I don’t expect you to just forgive me. I know you don’t trust easy and I threw that in your face. But I don’t wanna lose you. I want you around forever, if you’d let me.”
The heaviness in your gut is gone. There’s a feeling of enlightenment that washes over you. Here, stood before you, honest and open, pockets empty and heart on a platter…You find yourself taking a chance. The pain from your mom leaving you without rhyme or reason fades behind one simple fact: all people are different people.
You no longer want to give JJ the poem. It doesn’t feel right to, at least not right now. Pocketing it, you dampen your lips and deliberate.
Eventually, you nod, “I’ll let you. It’ll take time for me to trust you again, like I did before…But I don’t want to lose you either.”
JJ’s smile slowly grows. It’s your smile, the one he saves just for you, and you feel the pain already passing just by seeing it. Stepping towards him, you make the first move to reconnect. He’s more than happy to accept, pressing his lips to yours in a tender, tired kiss.
“‘Sides,” you say, looking up at him, arms thrown around his shoulders. “Everyone knows the best movies are when the couple gets together at the very end.”
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj x reader#jj#outer banks#outerbanks#obx#obx fic#jj maybank fic#jj fic#outerbanks fic#10 things i hate about you
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I’ve got you always
W JJ maybank
Summary- Rafe Cameron shoots you. You fall. JJ watches in horror but can’t do anything. And you have a nasty injury. Your worried JJ will lose interest in you after everything but he sticks with you helping you through everything until your better.
Warnings- kissing, use of a gun, blood, your character getting shot. A lot of swearing. Mentions of death, fighting. Serious injuries.
Series- outer banks.
Request are open🫶
“JJ! I was so worried” I grabbed his pink cheeks softly, while guiding his face towards mine feeling my heart race with excitement, nerves and relief all at the same time. JJ tucked my hair behind my ears not breaking our kiss. I missed his sent and touch over the few hours he was gone, I’m not even sure what he went to do but id woken up alone and my heart leaped out my chest, panic spread throughout my whole body.
“Missed you beautiful” he wrapped me up in his strong arms and I blinked against his chest not wanting to pry but also wanting answers. “JJ- what were you…” his body jolted and his head snapped looking around in the dark woods for nothing in particular “shh- do you hear that?” He asked me snatching up my hand with a hint of aggression still looking in to the distance. His protective side lit up. I listened out and thought I heard a bike or a car maybe. “JJ? Who’s here” I whispered unsteadily.
He didn’t answer but dragged me towards the base of the tree. “Ki!” JJ hissed nodding his head at the tree as a signal, the rest of the pouges all followed. JJ climbed the tree with ease, Me … not so much. He held his hand out to me helping to pull me up. “What’s going on” I whispered while climbing higher and higher. “Someone’s here… I think it’s foe” he told me sitting on one of the top branches. I noticed the others were sitting at the top of the tree on the other side.
I wasn’t like them. Even though I came from the pogue background I didn’t have what they all had in them. I didn’t have fight. My boyfriend yanked me up just in time. We heard footsteps now treading through the trees. “I need you to be quite okay hun- I’ve got you, always” JJ wrapped an arm around my waist securing me in the tree and in his arms. I nodded and tucked my head under his chin. My eyes scanned the trees. The fear of the unknown took over.
In that moment Barry and Rafe stepped into our area. My heart dropped when I saw the guns in there hands. I looked over at Sarah who looked just about as frightened as I was. “Go check the house” Rafe nodded to Barry ordering him about. It didn’t them them long to realise that they couldn’t find us. “THEY! We’re just here!” Rafe screamed kicking one of the chairs. “Great observation Boy Scout” Barry rolled his eyes but as he did he caught onto something.
Barry began to start laughing and Rafe didn’t like it. “What the fuck is so funny” he snapped getting agitated. Barry outstretched his arm pointing to the tree. “Your sister and your ex girl are pouges for life” Rafe turned his head to look at the tree. His brows knitted together. “Why the fuck is y/n’s name on there?” “She’s dating that blonde one now, you really haven’t heard?” Barry chuckled realising how much it still disturbed rafe.
“Well shit” rafe nodded at no one in particular. He pointed gun at tree and let out a yell while shooting or carvings. “RAFE STOP IT! Your gonna get us busted!” Barry raced towards him pointing the gun upwards. The bullets flew past the pouges.
Suddenly everything stopped.
My vision started to become all blurry and i couldn’t hear anything. My grip became loose and JJ was busy staring at rafe, he didn’t realise I was slipping. I tried grabbing a branch but I missed. I watched his face drop in horror as I fell.
I hit the floor hard and it caught Rafe and Barry’s attention. “Y/n” Rafe said under his breath, his eyes widened before he ran over his hand landed on my stomach and he noticed I was bleeding. “Shit! SHIT” rafe shouted not even caring about the fact I’d appeared out of nowhere. Barry who had a little more common sense at the time looked up seeing all the pouges in the tree.
They were all scrambling down now especially JJ. “Y/n!” Ki screamed jumping onto the floor. She was first over “Rafe! Fucking shoot them” “shut up!” He told Barry with tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry y/n” he whispered watching blood spill out of my mouth. “Get the fuck away from her” JJ came over and pushed Rafe off me. I could hardly see what was going on but I felt ki grab my hand and tell me it was going to be okay.
“If you wasn’t hiding her up there and involving her in your dirty life style this never would have happened” Rafe yelled pushing JJ back. “You you weren’t so fucked up in the head this never would have happened” JJ squared up to him again. “STOP IT” Sarah winced running in between them. “Y/n needs an ambulance! She doesn’t need you both fighting over her right now” she begged with her eyes.
“Rafe you need to leave” Sarah told him as a tear fell out of her eye. “I’m not going anywhere! Until she is safe” he told her firmly. “Then do something useful and call an ambulance” JJ slimed his eyes. “Rafe! We have to go who do you think will come with an ambulance?” Barry told him. “The pigs!” “Fuck- FUCK” Rafe shouted punching his fist at the tree. Sarah jumped out of her skin.
Rafe pulled out his phone and called the ambulance. His voice was shaky and he didn’t take his eyes off me the whole time. When he ended the call rafe walked over to the group. He was clenching his jaw. “I didn’t want this” he shook his head. “Too late” ki bitterly scowling at him. “You- you need to tell me if- when- she gets better, I need to know she’s going to be alright” Rafe told them as a tear fell out of his eye.
“RAFE! Let’s go” Barry shouted getting annoyed. “Promise me!” Rafe shouted at the group. “We will tell you if she makes it” Sarah said smally. “And I’ll make sure she remembers who did it” JJ slimmed his eyes on Rafe. “This isn’t over” Rafe muttered before backing away slowly watching my chest move up and down… hardly. “I should fucking kill him” JJ clenched his fists by his waist. “JJ” John B warned him.
The next day-
My eyes began opening. The environment was unfamiliar. My eye lids were extremely heavy and hard to keep open. “Shit y/n!- go get JJ” I heard being whispered around me. “Wh-where am I?” I stuttered looking around the white room as my vision slowly came back. Trying to sit up was my first mistake. “Shit” I groaned laying back down. “Your- at the hospital y/n” Sarah told me softly. All the pouges apart from John B and JJ were in the room.
“What…” I asked scrunching my face up. “Rafe” I whispered remembering flashes of what happened. “You had a pretty nasty fall after he- shot you” pope explained to me clearly. “Twice” ki frowned shaking her head. I looked down seeing a patch attached to my shoulder and another stuck to my stomach. JJ came sprinting into the room witch John B not far behind. “Y/n” JJ whispered coming to my side.
“Your okay” I smiled reaching for his hand. “Yeah- yeah of course I’m okay it’s you were worried about” he looked at me like I was glass. I tried moving my legs so i could sit up easier but nothing budged. I tried again failing before the idea of my legs not working came into my head. “What the fuck is happening to me” i winced pocking at my legs. “JJ what is happening to me” I raised my voice slightly with tears flooding in my eyes.
“Leave us” he ordered his friends shooing them out of the room with the flap of his hand. “I can’t move- why can’t I move” I panicked grabbing at his hand as the pouges left the room, closing the door. “Listen to me hun, your going to be okay” he brushed my hair out my face and dried a tear that had fell out my eye. “The doctor said when you fell your spine cracked- when it heals they will teach you how to walk again you will be good as new”
My breathing became rapid as the panic spread over me. “Y/n listen to me- I’ve got you! Always okay, I’m going to get you through this you will be okay” he clutched my hand looking into my eyes. “Promise me you won’t leave me like this” I asked him softly. “Y/n Im not going anywhere, I’m in love with you” “you- what?” I looked up at him with wide eyes. “You heard me love” he smiled shyly. I noticed red filling his cheeks which made me smile too.
“I love you too JJ” I kissed his hand holding it close to my chest. “Your going to be just fine” he told me nodding his head up and down. “I trust you- what are we going to do about Rafe?” “I don’t know… I really don’t know” JJ sighed half deflated and he dragged a chair over to me. “What did he- say?” I asked him with no eye contact. “What when you fell?” “Mmh” I nodded subtlety.
“He didn’t mean to shoot you- that he didn’t want this to happen” JJ rolled his eyes. “Clearly still is in love with you” “is that jealousy I see maybank?” I giggled looking up at him. “Maybe” he shrugged not looking at me. “Well, who cares? You know where I stand” I told him turning his head to look at me. “Yeah” JJ nodding with a little twinkle leaning down to my lips after a few seconds. I know he was hesitant because I was ‘frail’.
But I’d miss this. He was exactly what I needed to help me heal. My hand found his hair to secure his head while we kissed. JJ pulled back smiling at me. Resting his chin on my arm as I held his face. “We’re in this together yeah, you and me” he whispered gently. “Always”.
#netflix#fyp#imagines#writers on tumblr#writing#short storys#outer banks#jj fanfiction#jj mayback x reader#jj maybank#jj maybank x y/n#jj maybank x pogue!reader#jj mayback imagine#obx jj maybank#jj maybank x you#outer banks jj#jj x you#jj fic#jj x y/n#jj outerbanks#jj maybank x oc#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank smut#jj maybank x fem!reader#obx imagine#obx season 3#jj obx#outer banks season three#outer banks series#outer banks imagine
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i wanna requesttt!!
so maybe reader and jj r studying and he cant focus so reader thinks of a way to get him to focus and decides to cockwarm him🫣 everytime jj gets a question right reader rolls her hips until jj gets fustrated and flips reader over to finish wha she started🫠 (just an idea you dont have to follow through<33)
warnings: cock warming, unprotected sex, reader is a tease.
this was so hot, thank you thank you for the request omfg 😩
“this is fucking stupid” jj groans, tossing his head down onto the desk.
you sigh, standing from your bed and walking to place a hand on jj’s upper back, “j, we have to study, this test is worth ten percent of your grade..”
jj turns in his desk chair, his hands finding your waist instantly. you feel chills run through your body when he tightly squeezes at your hips.
“i know baby, but i can’t focus. my mind is on.. other things” jj runs his hands down your hips, placing them on your ass and jiggling the fatty flesh.
you bring your bottom lip between your teeth, an amused smirk played across your lips.
you sit yourself on his lap, your fingers running through his hair, tugging softly at the blond locks as you lean your lips down to his ear, teeth nipping softly at the skin.
“i think i might know how to help you focus baby”
jj’s cock grows hard, his thick length pressing into your ass.
“oh yeah? and how might that be?”
you quickly stand, sliding your shorts and panties down your legs and kicking them across your bedroom floor. jj’s eyes go wide, his hands flying to your bare pussy, fingers lightly grazing your clit before you push them away.
“ah ah, no. you can’t touch. i’ll sit on your cock while we study, but you have to focus, anytime you get a question right, i’ll roll my hips a little, get a question wrong, well, i don’t move. once we finish studying, you can fuck me”
jj grins, quickly standing from his chair and pulling his sweatpants down his legs. jj grabs his books and rushes to the bed, pulling his underwear off before sitting and patting at his lap.
“come sit baby, we have a test to study for”
you quickly oblige, rushing to him and sitting yourself on his lap. you grind your bare cunt against jj’s throbbing length, getting it nice and wet with your arousal before you grasp it and begin teasing the head at your entrance.
you sink yourself down onto him, a low groan falling from his lips when you do. he unconsciously bucks his hips up, his swollen head lightly hitting at your g-spot and pulling a whine from you.
“j- fuck- jj no, focus”
you hear jj groan, but ultimately he agrees. he grabs his textbook off of your bed, placing it in your hands so you could begin asking him test questions.
“the basic elements of the supply chain include what?”
jj snaps his fingers, a wide grin growing on his face. “easy, supply, manufacture and distribution”
you smirk. “correct”
you slowly roll your hips over his length, feeling him twitch inside you before you stop.
“don’t get too excited we have a lot more to go baby”
jj groans as you clear your throat, “next question: what is a company’s strategic plan?”
“uhhh, outlining new products for the next year?”
you tsk, “nope, sorry baby, it’s a statement of goals and objectives for a long-range period”
“fuck, i knew that” jj sighs, his lip jutted out in a pout at the lack of movement from you.
“it’s okay, next question…”
you and jj continue this cycle for almost an hour, jj finally beginning to get all the questions correct, his need for reward strong.
you’re mid sentence on a question when you hear jj groan, “fuck this, i need you now”
“jj-“ you begin, but your words are replaced by a squeal when jj grabs the book from your hands and tosses it to the floor. he quickly flips you onto your back, running his hands up your shirt and cupping your breasts tightly between them.
“i was good, i answered as many questions as i could, but i need to fucking feel more of you, this ‘cock warming’ shit isn’t cutting it” jj grunts out, his hips pounding harshly into yours as his fingers pinch and pull at your hardened nipples.
you whine loudly, arching your back off the mattress, your hips bucking up and matching his thrusts. “fuck fuck, jj, so fucking good”
“yeah? you like how my cock feels buried inside you? do you think i should let you cum after you teased me for almost an entire fucking hour? hmm? do you think you deserve that baby? sitting this warm, soaked pussy on my cock but not giving me what i need?”
you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out except for moans and whimpers, jj’s cock repeatedly hitting at your g-spot, pushing you closer to the edge.
jj digs his fingers into your sides, the cold metal of his rings surely bruising the skin. you hear him grunt out a few curse words as his thrusts grow sloppier.
“tell me, do you deserve to fucking cum? i don’t think you do”
you begin whimpering, your release so close you could feel it. “p-please let me cum, j! i-i promise to be good, won’t tease you like that ever- shit- won’t tease you ever again”
jj begins licking and sucking on your neck, his hips stuttering as his cock twitches inside you, the hot ropes of his cum filling you up.
“fuck! cum for me baby” jj grunts out, his hips stuttering to a still as he comes down from his high.
his words were all it took, your toes curling and a pornographic moan escaping you as your release bursts from you.
jj falls limp on top of you, his chest heaving up and down as he tries to calm his breathing.
“fuck, that was..”
you cut him off, finishing his sentence, “.. fucking amazing. i need to get you frustrated more often”
jj rolls off of you, pulling his sweatpants back up his legs and grabbing his book off the floor, “yeah, maybe you do. now let’s get back to this, worth ten percent of my grade right?”
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⭒𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐲⭒
⭒𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. 𝐣𝐣 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭.
⭒𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬(𝐥𝐨𝐥 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭?), 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞, 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 :|, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭
⭒𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭. 𝟗𝟖𝟔
𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 tiktok
you approached the maybank household with a sigh, pushing back your hair as you made your way to the entrance. 
I would say I'm sorry
If I thought that it would change your mind
But I know that this time
I have said too much
Been too unkind
jj had gone MIA for a few days now, which wasn’t really a surprise but it was coming close to a week. he was ignoring calls and texts, and wasn’t at his house most times—so you were holding your breath hoping he had come back.
“jayj?” you called, knocking on the paint chipped door that creaked open upon on impact.
it’s not locked, why isn’t it locked?
I tried to laugh about it
Cover it all up with lies
I tried to laugh about it
Hiding the tears in my eyes
'Cause boys don't cry
Boys don't cry
you took it as a sign to let yourself in, eyes immediately wandering around the messy living room that was littered with beer bottles and trash.
“jj?” you called again, your voice slicing through the silence as a loud thud was heard around the corner.
seconds later, the missing blonde you and the pogues had been so worried about came stumbling into view.
“y/n?” he sounded surprised, eyebrows knitted together before his expression quickly morphed into anger. 
I would break down at your feet
And beg forgiveness, plead with you
But I know that it's too late
And now there's nothing I can do
“what the fuck are you doing here?” he yelled, voice bouncing off the rickety walls and attacking your ears.
you noticed a bruise on his chin, a bloody cut on his top lip with a matching one above his eyebrow.
his hair was messy with strands sticking to his forehead, dark circles under his eyes.
“i was- w-we were, the pogues, w-were worried about you,” you stuttered out, watching as he shook his head angrily, “you haven’t been answering our calls, a-and, and you just disappeared!”
“and why do you think that?” he spat, eyebrows raising in a sarcastic manor as he waved his hands around.
So I try to laugh about it
Cover it all up with lies
I try to laugh about it
Hiding the tears in my eyes
'Cause boys don't cry
Boys don't cry
“i didn’t want anyone to see me- i didn’t want you to see me!”
his words felt like a knife to the gut, scratch that, to the heart.
never in your entire friendship has jj yelled at you like that, yelled at you period. he treated you differently from everyone else, treated you differently from the pogues.
everyone knew, everyone saw. it made them want to snap and yell out, “just shut up and kiss each other!”
I would tell you that I loved you
If I thought that you would stay
But I know that it's no use
And you've already gone away
“what did i do?” you whispered, only causing jj to get more frustrated by the second. he was practically gnawing on his bottom lip, a bad habit he had picked up along with many others.
“just forget it,” he mumbled, running a hand through his tangled hair before pointing at the door.
“leave.”
“no.”
his blue eyes narrowed towards your figure, mouth opening to say something but nothing came out.
never have you ever talked to him like that, but you could say the same about him.
“what did you just say?”
his voice was thick, tongue like venom as he took a step towards you.
“you need help jj,” you said, frown etching it’s way on your face, “luke is hurting you-”
“stop it!” he practically screamed, hitting the wall next to him, causing you to flinch and step back.
Misjudged your limits
Pushed you too far
Took you for granted
Thought that you needed me more, more, more
you had never been scared of jj until now. he never gave you a reason to be.
he noticed this, eyes softly dropping and mouth slightly agape, “j-just stop it.”
his voice dropped to a whisper, his once beautiful blue eyes filled with light—gone.
there were tears, threatening to spill and flood his broken face.
“please don’t be afraid of me,” he begged, taking another step towards your small figure as you shook your head.
“i could never be afraid of you, j,” you whispered, which was mostly true. he would never hurt you, his emotions just caught you off guard in the moment.
“i’m not like him.”
“you’re not like him,” you assured, a single tear falling down his face as more prepared to follow.
he shook his head, each shake getting more aggressive as he squeezed his eyes shut, hands coming up to tug at his hair.
“i’m not him.”
“j-” your hand reached out to stop his hand from pulling at his locks, jj catching you off guard as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into him.
you body collided with his softly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he squeezed you tightly. you stood on your tip toes to loop your arms around his shoulders, letting them find home in your neck as his tears decorated your skin.
“i’m sorry,” he sobbed quietly, breath hot against your neck as you shushed him.
Now I would do most anything
To get you back by my side
But I just keep on laughing
Hiding the tears in my eyes
'Cause boys don't cry
Boys don't cry
“don’t apologize, jayj,” you whispered, “i’m here—and i’m not leaving.”
he tried to subside his cries, whimpers leaving his lips as a result.
“you’re not leaving?”
you shook your head, fingers running through his hair as your nails scratched the back of his head, a small action you’ve learned calmed him down over the past months.
“i’m not leaving.”
Boys don't cry
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TREAT ME LIKE A SLUT
Pairing: JJ Maybank × AFAB(she/her) reader
Summary: the title says it all
WARNINGS: SMUT, dirty and unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap kids), dirty talk
A/N: English is not my first language, sorry if you spot any mistake! Hope you like it xx
As you were dancing with your friend around the beach bonfire, you felt JJ’s gaze on your body. He couldn’t take his eyes away from your perfect body in this tiny bikini, moving to the rhythm of the music.
You and JJ were neither friends nor lovers, only sex buddies. You slept with him since a couple of months now. It was the only interaction you guys really had. No conversation or anything, only sex. It all started when you both met at a surf competition, disputing for the first place. You won and it pissed JJ off. He was being a dick to you, and your short temper and anger issues couldn’t handle the rudeness he showed you. So, you blew him off. Stubborn like you both were, neither one of you would let go of this fight. But your cockiness was the last straw for him. He ended up grabbing your wrist to guide you in the Twinkie. Once inside the van, JJ pinned you against the door. “You think you’re so smart, uh?” and with a smirk on his face, he kissed you hard.
JJ’s gaze was burning your body, and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his hard dick at the sight of your ass shaking in this particular bikini who, you knew, drove him mad.
When your eyes met, you winked at him and you felt his stare becoming darker. He smirked before walking up to you. Your stomach dropped thinking about the trouble that was waiting for you.
You felt a large arm encircle your waist and pulling you away from the crowd. Before you could realize, you found yourself alone with JJ on the other side of the beach.
He didn’t say a single word before kissing you harshly and cupping your buttcheeks with his big hands. You melt in the kiss, your tongues now dancing together. He slapped your ass roughly and you felt his cold rings marking you, making you moan in the kiss. You hated to admit it but you were already soaked. This man drove you crazy, and just by looking at you, he made you dripping wet. You didn’t want to admit it, your pride was too big for that. But he knew damn well the effect he had on you. And you knew damn well the effect you had on him.
You pulled away from the kiss, “God you’re so impatient” you said with a cocky smile. He pulled your salty hair hardly causing you to whimper, “You’re the one who’ve been waiting for me to fuck you all night long”.
With his free hand, he brushed your hard nipple though your bikini top, before grabbing your entire tit. He let go of your hair, placing his hand on your waist, pulling you closer.
He leaned into your ear and whispered, “Tell me what you want princess”.
You shivered, “Treat me like a slut, J”.
You could feel his dick twitch in his pants at your words.
He didn’t wait another second before taking your bikini top off. He then proceeded to lay you on the sand before placing himself between your legs, on top of you.
He licked your hard nipple, sucking and nibbling it while playing with the other one with his hand. You were sopping your bikini bottom. You groaned as the sensation was too good. You needed more. You wriggled your pelvis against his covered erection to feel any kind of friction but he stopped you with his hard grip on your thigh.
“Can’t wait for my cock to fill you up hm?”
He flipped you over and pulled your waist up so that your ass was raised up. He could see how wet you were through the fabric of your swimwear.
He slightly touched your core, making you moan and jiggle your ass for more. He spanked you hard once again, his rings sharped the pain and pleasure of it. You let out a heavy whinge, making him smile.
“You’re such a slut for me, Y/N”.
He then pulled downed your panties, revealing your inflated and damp pussy.
“Look at you, already so wet and I’ve barely even touched you”. He spanked you another time before letting his hand heads toward your drenched cunt. He started running his fingers up and down your core before slowly circling your clit. Your breathing was jerky while you were shaking your ass to feel more of it. JJ slapped your ass with his free hand before grabbing your thigh so tightly that a bruise will form tomorrow morning. He inserted two fingers inside your vagina, making you moan loudly.
“J, please…”
“Please what, sweetheart?”
His fingers curled inside you, causing you to moan one more time.
“Fucking fuck me J”
He laughed and removed his fingers leaving you empty.
He turned you over so you could face him before placing his two fingers in front of your mouth.
“Suck”.
You did as he told. You could taste yourself, sucking them clean, looking at him in his eyes, his erection twitching as he watched you. Once you’re finished, you withdraw his fingers out of your mouth with a loud sucking sound, leaving a fine trickle of drool leaked from the corner of your mouth.
You heard him whisper, “fuck…”.
A satisfaction smirk marked your face.
He took off his clothes, leaving his proudly erected penis finally break free. You were impressed by the size of it. Even though it’s not the first time that you saw it, it seems bigger and more swollen.
He lined himself at your entrance, and pushed his cock in without a warning. He immediately started pounding into you, his balls clapping against your juicy ass, leaving you no time to adjust to his size. You let out a loud porn moan escape, while little tears flowed out of the corner of your eyes since the pain relieved your puffy pussy.
“Fuck J!” you moaned.
JJ lifted your legs up on his shoulders so he could go deeper, still pounding into you.
You arched your back, your eyes rolled in the back of your head. You tugged his hair, making him growl.
“You like that, you slut?”
Fuck. You did like that. A lot.
“Harder JJ, ..please” you managed to say between two moans.
J sped up his pace, hammering harder into you. His hand went down to your clit, massaging it while fucking you roughly, while the other went around your throat, chocking you.
You could feel your orgasm building up, your toes curling and your moans getting louder. J could feel your walls clenched around his dick.
“Go ahead, cum on my cock baby”.
His poundings were rougher, deeper while you two orgasmed at the same time, his cum filling you in.
After you both catch your breath, he withdrew from you, leaving you an emptiness sensation.
“Open your mouth and stick your tongue out”.
You did, looking at him in his eyes and he spat on it. He then put his ringed thumb on it, closing your mouth with his finger underneath your chin. You sucked his thumb out and swallowed his saliva while never breaking the eye contact between you two.
He chuckled slyly and gave you a light, but condescending slap on the cheek,
“Little dirty bitch I love to fuck”.
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Just checking in
JJ suddenly getting distant wasn’t unusual in your relationship. At first you were really confused and upset but gradually you realized there was a pattern. It was usually an indication that his emotions were too big for even him to understand. You wanted to respect his need for space but you desperately wanted him to know that you cared.
JJ opened the text that lit up his screen. “Hey Babe! I’m just checking in to tell you I love you and I’m proud of the man that you are. And I have your favorite snacks waiting for a movie marathon whenever you’re ready.”
His heart fluttered as he read your words. A stray tear dropped onto his phone screen. He wiped his phone screen and rushed over to your place. In his excitement he tripped over a bush in your yard. He was oblivious to the blood dripping down his face as he approached your door.
You jumped at hearing a knock on your door. You weren’t expecting JJ to come this early. Your smile faltered as you answered the door and saw the blood. “JJ what happened?” You asked as you reached up to the source of the blood. JJ’s eyes widened when he saw the blood on your hand. “I did trip on the way here but I didn’t feel pain or anything.”
You rushed him inside and led him to the bathroom. JJ watched as you got your medical kit out. “This may hurt a little bit.” You warned before spraying the medicine. “Pfft that’s no match for- ahh.” You tried to stifle your laugh since he was in pain. You stuck a bandaid on and ruffled his hair over the bandaid.
“I don’t deserve you.” He spoke above a whisper while looking down. You gently lifted his chin and looked into his eyes “baby we deserve each other. You are deserving of love especially my love.” JJ smiled at the end of your sentence. “I just feel like I don’t contribute enough to our relationship.” “JJ you contribute so much more than you know. You’re the one person I feel safest with. And you contribute greatly to my happiness. I love being able to call you my man. And no relationship is ever going to be 50/50 and that’s okay. I love you and I love our relationship.”
“Thank you. I love you too.” He got up and hugged you. A content sigh escaped his lips as he steadied his breathing to match yours absentmindedly. “Of course. Now let’s go start our movie marathon I may have started eating some of the snacks already.” JJ gasped dramatically and put his hand over his heart. “You traitor! How could you?”
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