teaser for my upcoming fic: sugar
feel free to ask me questions about it!!! we're all in mourning so here's some fluff non-canon season 4 jj x reader
content warnings: dr*g use; mentions of s*xual themes
“JJ, I mean it,” you say, your tone losing its humour now. You shoot him a look that you hope will put a pin in it. “We should talk about something else.”
“Alright, alright,” JJ surrenders, holding his hands up and all. He relaxes back against the plastic seat of the boat and you do the same. Your legs outstretch so you can rest your feet on the spot beside him. The two of you catch each other’s gaze and look away, chuckling bashfully like preteens. You take another hit of the joint and watch the smoke fizzle away into the night. “How’d you meet Mark, then?”
You glance at JJ. “A few months back. He’d just moved to Kildare and came by to The Stirring Spoon to help out, and we sort of hit it off.”
“He seems like a nice guy.”
“He is,” you smile. But it fades. The weed tickles at your emotions, pulling the wires as if to wreak havoc. JJ seems to take advantage.
“Nothing,” you lie. You take another hit and shake your head, plastering on a smile. “It’s nothing.”
Sighing, JJ folds his arms comfortably over his chest. “Y’know, just cause I know what you look like naked don’t mean we can’t be friends now.”
Barking out a laugh, you shake your head. “There was definitely a better way you could have put that.”
“Probably,” he shrugs, grinning, “but it’s true, ain’t it? We can be friends.”
“Of course we can. We are,” you emphasise.
“So…That means that if you wanna vent about Mr Loverboy to me, you can,” JJ offers.
Laughing, you rock your head back and gaze up at the sky. The stars are out. They shimmer white and crystal in the abyss of the night. “That’d be too weird, I think, but I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”
“I just got one question. Just one.”
“Go on,” you reluctantly reply.
“Does he say ‘thank you’ after the two of you fuck?”
You burst into fits of laughter. It’s so sudden that it has you doubling over. Tears slip from your eyes and you wipe them away, looking at a grinning JJ. God, you missed him and his twisted sense of humour.
“He just looks like the kinda guy who would!”
“Oh my God, no!” you laugh, shaking your head. Catching your breath, you manage out, “no, he doesn’t say ‘thank you’.”
“Is he the sub then? Cause there is no way that guy is laying his hands on you without written permission.”
“JJ stop! I’m gonna pee myself!” you cackle, kicking your feet. JJ starts laughing too. You open your eyes and make out his face in the lowlight of the pier’s lamp. Wheezing, you catch your breath and calm yourself. “This is exactly what I was talking about.”
“I can give the guy pointers if he needs them,” JJ jokes. Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets just at the idea though and you point at him in another warning.
“Don’t you dare!” you say, trying not to crack up again. “‘Sides, he doesn’t need pointers.”
“Everybody needs pointers,” JJ says with a roll of his eyes. “John B gave me one of the best pointers.”
“I find that impossible to believe,” you snort.
“He did! It was a tip for kissing. Works like a fucking charm too, I’m telling ya.”
“Mhm, I’ll bet,” you sarcastically return. You glance at the joint to check if it needs tapping off, take another drag, and then look up to find JJ watching you. He hasn’t changed enough for you to forget what that expression means.
“You want me to show you?”
“Show me? How?” you say with furrowed brows. Something in the air shifts with your question. An unspoken thing, an unseeable thing, but something nonetheless. A nervous tickle comes to your throat.
JJ doesn’t reply but he slowly leans over the seat towards you. Your breath catches in your lungs the moment he enters your bubble, breaking some unspoken barrier, and your smile fades away like day into night. You feel as though you’re stuck in place, plastered to the seat, and you’re ashamed to admit that you don’t hate that you are. You’re ashamed that you’re not pushing him away, telling him to buzz off, laughing at his idiocy. You’re ashamed that you’re curious as to what he’s going to do next.
JJ’s close enough now that you can smell him. His cologne mixed with something sweet but tangy, like seasalt and citrus. Something masculine underneath, that has a primal instinct inside of you wanting to claw its way out. Your fingers grip the edge of the seat instead. Your eyes stare into his. You study the laps of green and grey in the sea of blue, mesmerised in the way the night sky reflects in the iris. His gaze darts down to your lips and you have no idea how this happened and how you got here, and everything is blurry but so, so clear from the cannabis as he leans forward, and you can’t move but you should move and you want to move but you don’t, you never want to move again, as his lips brush against yours just so, just enough for you to know that they have, that he has, that he’s real, but that he hasn’t, and that you can take it all back, and that it doesn’t count and it shouldn’t and you shouldn’t but–
