| pairing : jj x childhood bestfriend!reader
| summary : you're tired of waiting for jj to finally come to his senses about you, so you snap, and he finally runs after you.
| warnings: angstttt, touching waist, usage of y/n (like a good chunk, mb), again a lot of angst, jj being a dumbass per usual, reader being jealous, jj groveling on his knees, kissing???, reader has hair, me trying to write the narrative in an obx?? way???, cuss words, not proofread
author's note: okay please mind the writing. i'm dusting myself off because i haven't written in such a long time so please bear with me--again. also here's the song i have on my "angst love story w/ jj maybank" playlist that was playing while i was writing this fic, so enjoy lol. (rec to play it during a certain moment...you will know when ;))
The sky above the teenagers who sought freedom in this suffocating world was pitch black, fumes from the bonfire twirling up into the twinkling sky. Nothing was new. Everyone was either drinking, swaying their bodies, or sitting around the bonfires to talk about god knows what. Honestly, you weren't even paying attention to anything around you. You can barely feel the condensation of the drink in your hand seeping towards your curled fingertips. You were too busy eyeing the blonde, making another stupid decision across the bonfire.
There he was. JJ fucking Maybank. The reckless boy who owned your heart ever since fifth grade—asshole, is all you can think of. How dare he make you fall in love with him?! But it's not your fault your 10-year-old heart did a thump-thump the first time you saw those steel blue eyes lock onto yours after he stole some crayons just for you because some girls were being stingy.
God, you still remember when his finger hovered over his lips, shushing you with the same mischievous grin he wears to this day—though the grin is heavier now. "Don't say anythin'. Promise?" Young JJ's voice whispered to you, eyes flashing with something you have never seen in anyone. A joy for adrenaline. In love with recklessness. Of course, your fifth-grade self was tongue-tied, and for some reason—til this day—you have a feeling that JJ knew you wouldn't say anything. Maybe it was because you were shy, or maybe because he recognized something in you that you hadn't recognized in yourself yet.
With a squeaky voice, you shyly spoke. "Okay, promise." That grin of his immediately widened. Then you grabbed the crayons from his small fingertips, cheeks warming at the feeling of the brief graze of his hands. From then on, JJ Maybank has been a constant in your life ever since.
But god was it such a pain in the ass sometimes. You know JJ is good-looking and smooth-talking, but does he have to torture you at every bonfire you guys go to with some random touron girl in his arms? Even though part of you was jealous, the other half knew JJ. You know he only ever does this whenever something happens with his dad.
It hurts seeing him in pain. He can try to joke all he wants, but you can always see right through him, unbeknownst to you; that's what scares him about you. Usually, pushing people away works, but you still stayed. That's what is fucking him up, even after you saw all his flaws and fuck ups, you are still here.
Dirty blonde hair blows in the breeze as the wind picks up. The beautiful touron leaned into him, laughing in his ear while JJ just grinned. You couldn't keep on looking; this was torture, so you gave yourself a break, looking away as you bit the inside of your cheek. But just as you looked away, those blue eyes looked up and spotted you.
God, you look fucking gorgeous. He's not even trying to be dramatic; he really means it, and he knows he's a dumbass sitting here with a girl who doesn't matter, not really. Not when you're right there. But you scare him too damn much. His eyes trace down to the breeze catching your hair, watching the way you scrunch your face in agitation because he knows how the wind can be a bitch to you. And yeah, it drives you nuts, the wind messing with you. But he fucking loves it. Loves that face. Loves you. And God, that’s the problem. Slowly, his eyes traced down to your fingers wrapping around your solo cup. He wanted to snort or laugh, he knew you weren't drinking anythin' heavy. He teases you about it, but he loves that you keep a clear head, unlike his dumbass, who chooses to do dumb shit while intoxicated. The corners of his chapped lips quirked up, taking a sip out of his own cup, eyeing you over the rim.
The moment came to an end once JJ got hit with a whiff of something sweet—too sweet and not you. He looked over with his lidded gaze, brows raising in surprise. Shit, he forgot Sierra? Or was it Kendall? Whatever, he just forgot she was there. But you know, JJ is always the master of bullshit. "You from here?" He drawled, flashing the touron one of his charming smiles which had the girl blushing. The question made him want to laugh too damn much that he had to bite the inside of his cheek, making that faint dimple flash at her. Anyone can tell she wasn't from here.
You looked back, catching that dimple of his, watching that girl chuckle before explaining where she is from—god, you might just start drinking just watching this.
JJ hums in response to the girl’s words, but he really isn’t listening. He knows it’s a dick move, but he can feel your eyes burning into him — and if anyone’s gaze can make him fall to his ass, it’s yours. Those pretty doe eyes of yours. He loves calling them that, even if he’ll never admit out loud how much they fuck him up.
His eyes flicker between Sierra’s — or Kendall’s? fuck, he still can’t even remember — hating himself for comparing them to yours. They weren’t yours. Not expressive, not wide, not gorgeous. They didn’t hold him like yours do. Jesus Christ, what a sap. But the thing is, the touron’s eyes don’t knock the wind out of him. Yours do. Every damn time. "So, tell me, how did you get into surfing?" Sierra/Kendall flirted, voice dripping with sweet honey. She batted her lashes, hand stroking his arm as she leaned closer, a little too close. JJ was unfazed. He just chuckled dryly, tilting his cup toward her. “Dunno. Fell in the ocean one day, never came back out." That made the touron chuckle, "Mm, you're funny. Maybe you will give me a surf lesson?"
“Yeah, maybe.” JJ flicks his gaze through the fire, pretending to laugh at something Sierra-or-Kendall just said. But the second he catches your eyes through the flames, his grin falters. Just for a second. You look away too quickly, like the sight of him with someone else burned worse than the damn bonfire between you.
He tells himself he’s imagining it. That he’s reading too much into the way your jaw clenched, the way your nails picked at the rim of your cup. He doesn’t even know what the hell the word Pope used was—emotional… intel… something? Whatever. All JJ knows is he’s never been good at reading people. But you? You’re different. With you, he always knows. He knew his girl. He feels it like a punch to his ribs.
And that’s the part that kills him.
Because instead of fixing it, instead of running over there and saying what’s actually in his chest, he stays put. He sits there, while a girl whose name he doesn’t even remember, laughs too loudly at a joke he didn’t mean. He sits there because the truth is, you scare the hell out of him.
You finally look down at the cup that you were cradling in your hands, watching the way the water gently sloshes inside the cup when you tilt it side to side, with a frown on your lips. You were watching it as if it were the most fascinating thing ever, but really, it was just a way to distract yourself from the pain growing in your chest. It hurts too much. He was right there with some girl, and god, you fucking know there is something between you guys. There is no way of denying his touch; the way his fingertips linger on your wrist and shock your body. It was like he was carrying electricity in his limbs and electrocuting you. Then his eyes—oh my god. Blue and storming with so many things he wants to say but can't. Something is holding him back, and you want to shake him, pleading with him, as you wear a tired heart on your sleeve, to just say what he wants to say, but that's not how JJ works, and you should've seen the heartbreak coming a mile away. It's just a sick part of you hoped that he would change by now. Then there are other times when he would throw pebbles at your window like you guys were in some stupid romcom movie, breaking you out of your room because you've been cooped up all day studying, telling you to “quit bein’ a hermit and come live a little.” You hated how easy it was to say yes. How easy it was to let him tug you out into the night like he hadn’t just stomped on your chest hours before with his rashness. And that’s what makes this hurt worse — because you know JJ can be good. You’ve seen it, tasted it, breathed it in.
So why does he keep doing this?
Your throat burned as you stared down at the water in your cup, wishing it were strong enough to drown out the ache spreading through your ribs. Wishing you were strong enough not to care. But every laugh of his, every smile aimed at someone else, cracked another piece off you.
You couldn’t sit there anymore. Not with the flames throwing shadows on his stupid grin and not with her leaning into him like she belonged there. Not when every inch of you knew she didn’t.
You stood up from the log, letting your shoes crunch under the sand as you strode to the edge of a treeline. Immediately, blue eyes snap to your form. The playfulness in them quickly vanished, converting into something softer with a tinge of fear.
Fuck, he fucked up, and he knew it.
With a tilted chin, you held your head high, eyes locked on anywhere but him, because if you let yourself look, you might fold. And you’re so goddamn tired of folding for JJ Maybank.
JJ’s chest tightened as he watched you move, sand crunching under your shoes like a damn metronome ticking down to his worst fear. He barely heard Sierra-or-Kendall chirp beside him anymore, the buzz of her laugh fading into nothing. All he could see was your back disappearing into the shadows by the treeline.
“Y/N!” The name left his throat before he even decided to call it, rough, raw, panicked.
You didn’t turn. Not once.
But of course, the universe wanted to throw you into the arms of the most emotionally intelligent one here—Kiara. Brown eyes caught yours, holding your arms to keep your balance. "Hey, whoa, are you okay?" She asks softly, voice laced with nothing but empathy as she darts her eyes across your face, spotting the heartbreak in a second. "Yeah, I'm fine, Kie. Just…need air," you muttered tightly underneath your breath, trying not to cry. Before Kiara could even reply, your feet continued moving to the trees, needing some air.
Kiara watched you leave with parted lips, brows furrowing. What the hell happened? That question was soon answered once she spotted a panicked JJ jog after you. He shot up, knocking his cup into the sand. Didn’t even bother to mutter an excuse to the girl still waiting for him to play along. His boots dragged furrows as he jogged after you, heat from the fire still on his back, cold salt air slamming into his chest.
Unfortunately, JJ caught Kiara's softened gaze that quickly switched up to protective mama bear in a second. "JJ-" And JJ just flashed Kiara a gaze that told her ‘don’t’. "Not now, Kie," He huffed out, not needing Kiara's scolding right now. He knows he is a dumbass and a screw up. He doesn't need Kiara to tell him that.
Kiara’s arms dropped as she stood there, lips pressed thin, fury sparking in her chest. She wanted to follow, to yank JJ by his stupid shirt and shake him until he got it through his thick skull to stop hurting you. And trust her when she said she was ready to rip him a new one, but the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing keeping him standing—stole the words right out of her. Not now. Not when he finally looked scared to lose something real. But the wild look in his eyes stopped her. For once, the jokes were gone. JJ wasn’t laughing. He was chasing.
Branches snapped under his boots as JJ shoved through the trees, heart hammering like he’d just sprinted for his life. Maybe he had. Because if you really meant it this time, if you were done, he wasn’t sure he’d survive it. You can hear him running after you, but this time you weren't going to stop. Let him chase you and see how he likes it.
You were slipping through his fingertips. "Y/n! Wait, I—" he paused, nostrils flaring as he exhaled an exasperated breath. He wasn't annoyed with you, but with himself. He hated himself for putting you through his shit, but he just can't lose you. JJ watched you continue walking away, and he just snapped. When a man is hopeless, he goes through desperate measures, and he doesn't give a fuck anymore if he looks like a sap or a simp, or whatever the fuck. He just knows he can't let you go without saying what he wants to say. "Damn it, stop ignoring me! Let me talk, Y/n/n!" He yelled, voice cracking through the music playing in the background.
"Into Nirvana" by Maverick Sabre.
In a land man made of stone here
That made you freeze. His words cut through the disarray of heartbreak thoughts in your head. Your limbs tense, fingers curling into fists beside your sides.
The song bled into the night, every word digging deeper than you wanted to admit. “I’ve been searching for roses…” And wasn’t that just JJ? Looking for something soft, something real, in all the wrong places.
Your shoulders locked. You didn’t turn, didn’t give him the relief of your eyes, but he saw the way your spine stiffened and knew he’d gotten through.
In a land man made of stone here
“Please,” JJ’s voice cracked raw, lower this time, stripped of bravado. His boots scuffed in the sand as he slowed, like he was scared that if he got too close, you’d vanish. “I know I’m an asshole. I know I keep screwin’ up, but don’t—don’t walk away from me, not you.”
The waves filled the silence between you, crashing like static. For a heartbeat, you almost let yourself keep going. But your fists hurt from how tight you’d clenched them. You spun on your heel, fury and heartbreak boiling together.
Is anyone still a dreamer?
“I’m tired of watching your self-destruct bullshit, JJ!” The dam finally broke. Your voice is raw, broken, and fucking tired. JJ's been punched, hit, hell—even arrested—and nothing hurt more than your words. They felt like actual handcuffs, tying him and finally holding him accountable for all the shit he has done.
All we wanna be is adored.
Can you really see love on the screen now?
A flash of pain crosses his eyes, but JJ, being JJ, had to mask it. He had to be angry. But god—it's not at you! Never at you! He was just so fucking angry at the pain in your eyes right now. And god, how you look so damn gorgeous getting mad at him. It's intoxicating. The way your eyes lit up with emotion was always beautiful—even more now with you screaming at him, brows knitted up—your whole face looked worshipful. "Oh, you're tired?" His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, that stupid mocking tone slipping off his tongue because it was easier to be an ass than admit he was scared. He was in front of you now, eyes storming, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. “Then why do you stay, huh?! If you’re so tired, then fucking leave! Ain’t nobody chaining you here!”
How fucking dare he?! After everything. After staying, patching him up, swallowing the jealousy, holding his broken pieces together when nobody else would. Your chest heaves as you snap, voice cracking but sharp as glass. "You are! I stay because I fucking love you, you idiot! And you're—ugh!" You ran a frustrated hand through your hair, letting out a shaky breath. "This is exactly what I am talking about! Stop pushing me away, J!" You yelled, voice fiery with years of unleashed pain of always hoping for him to keep the door open for you.
Yeah, then I go and run away, away
"I can't, alright?!" He barked back, but his voice cracked, betraying the armor he wore like a religion. He dragged his hands through his blonde strands, pacing, as if he didn’t move, he’d combust right there in front of you. “You don’t get it—I don’t know how to. I don’t know how to be what you want. What you deserve.” His chest rose and fell like he’d just run a mile, eyes burning as he finally looked at you. “Every time I try, I screw it up. That’s all I do, Y/N. Screw shit up. And I can’t—” his voice cracked harder this time, softer, “—I can’t do that to you, too.”
He hurt you. You swallowed the pain month after month, stitched yourself up where he ripped you open. But right now? You were starting to crumble for JJ once again — only this time, it wasn’t because you were weak. It was because he deserved it. He was finally bleeding for you. And God, it was about damn time. Those darkened eyes of yours softened once they landed on his weary face, watching the way the moonlight highlights the roughened edges of his face.
He was a fool for those eyes.
“Then don’t.” Your voice was different this time — not sharp, not exhausted, but bare. It disarmed him more than any of your screaming ever could. You stepped forward, eyes locked on his, and he swore the air got punched out of his lungs.
Yeah, then I go and run away, away
JJ’s jaw flexed, throat bobbing hard. His hands fell uselessly at his sides, knuckles raw from clutching too tightly. “It’s not that simple,” he rasped, but fuck, looking at you made him want to believe it was. “I know,” you whispered, voice so soft the wind nearly carried it away. JJ’s heart gave that old thump-thump at the sound, the same one he swore he first felt back in fifth grade. Those gentle eyes of yours — warm, open, even when the world was cruel — had him then, and they had him now. He remembered it clear as day: stingy girls clutching their crayons, you shrinking back with that hurt look on your face. And him, stupid little JJ, stealing them just to see your smile again. Coloring soothed you then, just like you soothed him now.
It might've been because of how hurt he looked, how much you knew he needed to be held, but your hands moved. Gentle hands cradle his sun-kissed cheeks delicately, as if he were the one made of glass, not you. He was—he just doesn't wanna admit it.
Yeah, then I go and run away, away
Something in both of your chests tightens at the touch. It was warm and electric—something so dangerous because it confirmed everything you guys felt. This wasn't fake; this shit was real. With your own chest slowly rising heavier, you pulled him down closer to your height, almost shyly, scared he’d run if you went too fast.
JJ froze for half a second, like he couldn’t believe you were still touching him after everything he’d just thrown at you. But the heat of your palms on his cheeks melted something he’d been holding locked up for years. His lashes fluttered, a shaky breath spilling past his lips. He leaned into your hands like he’d been waiting his whole damn life for them. "Just let me in, J. Please."
Yes, then I go and run away, away
Yes, then I go and run away
He looked into your eyes, a man finally kneeling to his queen, shedding his armor piece by piece. For once, he wasn’t hiding behind smirks or sharp words. Just JJ, raw and stripped down, staring at the only person who ever made him want to stay. His chest heaved, lips parting like he had something to say, but all that came out was a broken whisper. “I…” He licked his lips, throat tightening like every word was stuck there. His stormy blue eyes darted across your face, drinking you in like he was terrified you’d disappear if he blinked. The curve of your lips, the softness of your eyes, the warmth of your skin under his palms—it was too much. His brows furrowed, almost as if he was physically fighting to hold himself together, but the truth was, he was crumbling.
His teeth caught his bottom lip, a desperate habit, trying to bite back all the things he wanted to say. But then you shifted just slightly into his touch, and it broke him. His calloused hand slid up instinctively to cradle the side of your neck. Your pulse thudded against his thumb, and he swore he could feel it syncing with his own frantic heartbeat.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, voice breaking as he finally gave in. And then his mouth was on yours, fierce and trembling, like he’d been holding his breath for years, and you were the only oxygen he’d ever wanted. A gasp tore from your lips at the sudden crash of his mouth against yours. He swallowed it greedily, like he’d been starving for years and finally got a taste of the only thing that could save him. His lips moved roughly against yours. Chapped lips were unsteady, trembling with every ounce of ache he’d been burying under smirks and sarcasm.
“Fuck,” he breathed against your mouth, the word muffled and desperate. His hands clutched at you like you’d vanish if he let go—fingers threading into your hair, free hand sliding down to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. You tasted better than any distraction, better than any touron, better than every daydream he’d shoved down. You. Always you.
Jesus, why were your lips so soft? They feel like fucking pillows—this wasn't fair.
Your hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer until his chest slammed against yours. You tilted your head, parting your lips just enough to let him in, to show him you weren’t running, and he was right with you. For the first time ever, JJ Maybank isn't running, not tonight. God, he took that invitation like a starved man. The hand that was twisted in your hair slid down to the side of your neck, thumb gently tugging at your chin as he licked the shape of your lips, licking up into your mouth. A broken sound tore from his throat at the taste of you—raw and guttural—and god, it only spurred you on. He tasted like how you always imagined he would: cheap beer and salt from the ocean air clinging to his skin. Messy, reckless, undeniably JJ. But underneath it—underneath the sharp bite of beer and the wildness—there was something sweeter, something that was him, and it made your knees go weak.
“JJ,” you whispered against his mouth, the syllables shaking, half a plea, half a warning. But you didn’t push him away. Instead, your arms wound tighter around his neck, pulling him closer, daring him to feel every ounce of what you’d been holding back. "Shit—don’t say my name like that," he hissed between breathless kisses, fingertips sliding down to your hips, hauling you up against him so you felt every sharp edge of him. But even that wasn’t enough—never enough. His boots dug into the dirt as he pressed you against a tree, bark biting against your back while he swallowed the gasp that tore from your swollen lips.
That sound for real is going to kill him. Jesus, he would do anything just to hear it again.
Your body reacted instinctively, arching into him, nails clawing at his shoulders like you could anchor him there. His kiss was hungry, desperate, but when he pulled back just for air, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath hitched. Blue eyes searched yours, wrecked and soft all at once.
Shit. It was unfair how pretty you looked like this. All kissed up because of him. Oh my god, and that’s when it hit him. You guys kissed. Fucking finally kissed—holy shit. And it was the most reckless, beautiful thing he’d ever done. His chest felt like it might cave in, his lungs couldn’t catch up, but for once, he didn’t care. Your lips were swollen, parted like you were about to say something, but he couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop tracing every detail like he’d wake up and it’d vanish. “You’re killin’ me,” he muttered against your mouth, voice hoarse, thumb brushing over the heat of your cheek.
The world could burn down behind him—the bonfire, the music, the tourons—but none of it mattered. Just you. Just this.
A few beats pass, and that’s when you saw it. Saw the armor slowly coming back up, causing his rings to dig slightly into your hips, scared you're going to vanish. “Imma fuck it up,” he rasped, like the confession was dragged straight out of his ribs.
Your chest rose and fell against his, lips still tingling, breath still stolen. For a second, you swore the world held still with you, waiting for what you’d say, but then your thumb brushed over the stubble on his jaw, soothing what his own words couldn’t.
“Then let me fuck it up with you,” you whispered, steady even as your pulse raced.
His throat bobbed, and for a second, you thought he’d laugh it off, shove it down like always. But instead, JJ dipped his head again, doing the most uncharacteristic thing ever. He kissed you slower this time, with such reverence that your knees almost went weak. Your words broke something wide open in him, something that was deeply buried under years of pain. "God, I love you, pretty girl."
Fuck, fuck, fuck, he didn't mean to—I mean, he did, but, shit! He immediately pulled back, eyes wide with panic as they started darting between yours, searching for doubt or regret. Well, shit, he can't take it back now. "Shit—I didn’t mean like that—I mean I did, but not like—fuck.”
The words hit him like a punch straight to the chest. JJ blinked, breath stuttering, like he didn’t trust his own ears. You love me? His lips parted, then snapped shut, then parted again like he couldn’t decide if he should grin or cry. Maybe both.
For once, JJ Maybank didn’t have a smartass reply, didn’t need to. His hands trembled where they cradled your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “Say it again,” he whispered, voice breaking, as if you said it twice, it’d be real, like it wouldn’t vanish with the smoke of the bonfire.
Your lips curved into the softest smile, one meant only for him. “I love you, JJ.”
And that was it. That was the knockout. His forehead collapsed against yours as a shaky laugh bubbled out of him, part-disbelieving, part-relieved, part-something he’d never admit out loud. His chest shook with it, a sound cracked right out of his ribs. “Holy shit,” he breathed, kissing you again, slower, steadier this time, like he was finally learning what it meant to stay.
Your lips curved against his, the taste of salt and smoke still lingering, but you couldn’t help it — a little giggle slipped out between kisses. All that fighting, all that heartbreak, and here he was, kissing you like you were the only thing keeping him alive.
JJ froze for a beat, pulling back just enough to see your face. The sound knocked the air out of him — light and sweet, cutting right through the chaos like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. His lips twitched, then broke into a grin he couldn’t hide if he tried. “Goddamn, even when I’m spillin’ my guts, you’re laughing at me,” he rasped, but his thumb traced your jaw so tender it gave him away. You shook your head, forehead pressing to his. “Not laughing at you, J. Just… happy. With you.”
And for the first time in a long time, JJ believed it. "Yeah?" And there was that oh-so-familiar teasing tone. He flashed you a dimple, leaning in even further as he adored the shape of your smile. He huffed a small laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you. You nodded, butterflies tickling your ribcage the closer he got. "Yeah."
“Shit, that’s good…‘cause for a sec I thought I was dreamin’.”
You laughed at his ridiculousness, a warm sound that bubbled out of your chest before you could stop it. A sound that he loved.
He blinked at you like you’d just grown a second head. “What?” he asked, brows quirking, lips tugging into a grin anyway.
“Nothing,” you shook your head, still grinning, still pressed close enough to feel his heart racing under your palms. “Just… you. You’re ridiculous.”
JJ chuckled, that low, throaty sound that always gave him away. He bumped his nose against yours, whispering like a secret, “Yeah, but I’m your ridiculous.”
"Mmm, yeah," you hummed contentedly, sound soft from the back of your throat. Slowly, hands reached up to trace the dimples showing, causing the indent to become deeper from your loving touch. "You are." He huffed out another laugh, leaning fully into your touch, dimples pressed deeper under your fingers. “Don’t go forgettin’ that,” he murmured, lips brushing yours again, softer this time.
And you definitely did not forget that tonight, especially with JJ Maybank in your arms.
Finally, he didn’t feel like running. Nah, not this time.
dededos
jbbartram-illu
dailybridgerton
origamiaround
areudirty
vaporwave
