Maybank's bitch

Rosa (she/her) ~ 25 ♥︎ Requests are welcome / My masterlist

[writingjjfics]

🚫 ! I do not appreciate people stealing my work or translating it, but I do appreciate people who like, reblog or comment on my work ! ✅

My requests are: Open

✨ I do not write smut because I don’t feel comfortable writing that ✨

~ Fics

☀︎ Distraction 🥰 Y/n is feeling upset because her parents are in a divorce. The Pogues come up with a surprise to distract her for a bit.

☀︎ It's not your fault ⚡️🥰 Y/n gets spiked by Rafe at a Kegger and the Pogues find her and take care of her. JJ can't help but feel responsible for what happened.

☀︎ Jealous confessions 🥰 A night with the Pogues lead to much laughter, jealousy, and love confessions.

☀︎ More than a hookup 🥰 Y/n is having a bad day and needs her best friend JJ. He's away with the Pogues, who don't know about the relationship between the two of you.

☀︎ You're it for me 🥰 Some fluff moments in the relationship between JJ and Y/n.

☀︎ I need you ⚡️🥰 → part 2 After getting hurt by Rafe and his group, Y/n seeks comfort in her best friend.

☀︎ Make up 🥰 Y/n and JJ make up after a fight

☀︎ Unexpected love 🥰 Y/n, the sweetest kook in the Outer Banks had fallen for a certain blond pogue who sadly shows no interest in her. Or so she thought.

☀︎ Pogues to the rescue! 🥰 JJ and the Pogues come to rescue Y/n from her Kook family party.

~ Summer prompt list

☀︎ 1,2 & 4 🥰 Acting as a fake couple leads y/n and JJ to confess their feelings.

☀︎ 22 & 41 🥰 Best friends with secretly romantic feelings.

~ Headcanons & more

JJ babysitting your little sister

JJ takes care of you before and after your surgery

JJ’s date night ideas

Vacation with JJ

Boat day with JJ

[writingjjfics]

I wish they would have done a One Tree Hill solution… have JJ get kidnapped or something, have him appear in a few episodes (without the main cast) and then have a final episode where everyone lives happily ever after 🥲🥹💔

[writingjjfics]

Honestly, fuck obx. Dumbest thing they could have done.

I have only seen the first episode of part 2, but I couldn't enjoy a single second of it, and now I'm not sure if i even want to finish watching it. And I certainly won't be watching season 5, that's for sure!

[mvybanks]

SOMEONE TO STAY — pt.4

a/n: and after two months, she resurfaces! i was writing an extra scene but it was taking too much time and i wanted to post tonight soooo i hope you like this! comments and reblogs are always very appreciated🫶🏻

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+, daddy issues (both reader and jj!), reader has a bad father figure, sexual innuendos🫣, jj has a filthy mind, barely proof-read

word count: 3k

pairing: single dad!jj x babysitter!reader

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someone to stay: the playlist

add yourself to my taglist <3

—

You didn’t know what you had gotten yourself into when JJ had asked you to pick his daughter from preschool, for he wasn’t able to take his lunch break that day, resulting in his inability to do it himself, so you were the one stuck in the endless pick-up line outside Ella’s school. It wasn’t like you had that many memories from preschool, unless we count Mrs. Worcester, the 78-year-old teacher that had once nonchalantly announced to a classroom of four year olds that everyone in their lives was going to die someday, which had probably scarred you as a child. Therefore you had no idea you’d have to sit and pray for your turn to pick the little girl up. 

“You have got to be kidding,” you grumbled when you realized that most parents would stop to talk to the teacher, asking her about her day and how their kids had behaved that day. It felt lamost unbelievable that JJ could find the time to do that every single day, rushing to work immediately after, just so he had the chance to spend an extra two minutes with his daughter. The more you thought about it, the more your heart clenched, an unfamiliar feeling filling your chest with a sensation you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The way he cared about Ella was a rarity you had never seen, nor experienced before, and you believed that it was causing something to heal inside of you, beginning to long for a kind of affection you had never received as a child. 

“Luckily it’s not December yet,” the voice of a man coming from behind you, chuckling, caught your attention, interrupting whatever was going on in your head, and you had to turn around to make sure he was talking to you, “That’s when they all want to make sure that their kids are well-behaved so that Santa can bring ‘em the gift they asked for. I swear, this line gets impossible.” 

You smiled politely at the stranger, letting a small laugh escape you, “No kidding.”

“I’m Andrew, Martha’s dad.” He extended his left handed, and you made a mental note of the lack of a ring on his finger. 

Oh. Single dad alert. And he’s certainly not bad to look at, you thought as you allowed yourself to check him out. 

Was that what you had become? Were you starting to be attracted to single dads? Damn JJ Maybank and that sexy ass of his, he had put you into that positon – being weirdly attracted to dads, that is.

“I’m –“ You caught yourself from spilling your own name before inevitably lying about it to yet another innocent person, “I’m Charlotte, Isabella’s babysitter.” Finally, you accepted his hand, the corners of your lips twitching for a moment as you noticed his bright, gleeful, green orbits – although, you couldn’t help but think that they were nothing compared to ocean blue eyes, that attentive gaze studying you as you attempted to understand him—Nope. We’re not doing this! Stand up, a voice in your head all but screamed. 

“Ah, now I know why I’ve never seen you before. I’m sure I would’ve remembered you.” Andrew admitted, his flirty tone entering the conversation with ease as you got your confirmation about his marital status. 

You decided to play his game, it couldn’t have hurt, right? “I’m sure you would have, Martha’s dad,” you smirked in a joking manner, slightly amused at his furtive attempt.  

Mirroring you, he crossed his arms over his chest before his eyes raked up and down your body as a teasing smile broke out on his face, “Well, next time I definitely will, Isabella’s babysitter.”

You hated yourself for reminiscing the way JJ looked at you instead, how his raspy voice sounded when he called you “Miss Jones”, and that warmth that never failed to pool at the bottom of your belly when he smirked at you. Lucky for you, you didn’t have to face the consequences of your incessant thinking because your gaze fell on a distinctive, beautiful head of golden hair who was running into you, letting out an excited squeal at the sight of you, “Lottie!”

Without a second thought, you caught Ella in your arms, lifting her up as a joyful giggle escaped her. “Hi, sweetheart!” Your lips soflty pressed against her temple, “Someone’s happy today.”

“I missed you.” The words came out muffled for she was hiding her face in your neck, cuddling closer to you while a thousand feelings melted in your chest. 

Smoothing down her hair, you reciprocated the affection, tightening your arms around her. It had only been two days since you saw her, and yet her demeanor never faltered each Monday, always feeling on the moon to see you again. “I missed you, too.”

“You must be Charlotte, right?” A smiling woman interrupted the sweet moment, standing with a clipboard in her hand as she waited for you to acknowledge her presence, “I’m Miss. Davis, Isabella’s teacher. JJ warned us you would pick her up today.”

For a moment your mind wondered if you were the only idiot that had to call him “Mr. Maybank”, since he had never corrected you. 

Asshole. 

“That’s me.” You cordially grinned at Miss. Davis, “I’m her sitter.”

She shook her free hand in the air, scoffing as a small laugh left her lips, “Oh, no. I know. Isabella talks about you constantly! I actually had a question for you: are you coming to the school play this Friday? There’s a two people maximum per kid, so you’re welcome to come if you –“

“Please, Lottie!” Ella cut her teacher off, forcing you to look at her as she pleaded you, big, sweet, puppy eyes peering up at you, “Please, please, please –“ 

“Okay, okay,” you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement, “I’ll be there,” finally you added, this time gazing at the teacher. 

You swore your heart grew two sizes when the little girl in your embrace let out a delighted squeal and tightened her tiny arms around you.

--   

Driving home after an exhausting, endless, day of work must have been the only source of peace and comfort that JJ was going to get that day— at least that was until he could see his daughter. He was aware that every parent said it about their kids, but Isabella really was the best kid in the entire world, and he would never stop being grateful that he got to come home to his favorite person. Sometimes he couldn’t believe that she came from him, he sure as hell wasn’t like her at her age, yet Ella made parenting the most rewarding job. 

As he walked through the front door that evening he had expected to find you and her watching a movie before bedtime, for he had been allowed to leave work earlier, seen that he had not had the time to take his lunch break,  instead you were both lying on their stomachs on the floor, coloring and filling the living room with laughter. There were times where he might have hated to admit it but that was all your doing. The house had never been so full of joy since you had started working there, now constantly abounding with the sound of his daughter’s sweet giggles, and that was all he had been working so hard for.

Since Lily, it had been difficult to keep the both of them happy. He tried — He tried so damn much, but he always felt like it was never enough. Ella deserved more, everything she wanted, and all he had hoped for was to be able to give her what two parents would, because she was not him. She wouldn’t have to run away from home, she wouldn’t be scared of her own house, nor of her father. 

So, yes, JJ believed that you had done a beautiful job. An unfairly lovely, angelic, oh-so gorgeous…job. The problem was that he couldn’t stop thinking about the way you had taken care of Ella a couple of days prior, how you had put him in his place and stolen the reins of his household, nursing his daughter back to health and making dinner for the both of them. It had made his walls crumble for a night, letting the real JJ come out after almost a year. However, having dinner with you, just talking and laughing, letting his guard down, allowing someone else to care for him for once had been a mistake, one that he had to remedy. 

“Daddy!” Big, blue eyes looked up at him, waiting for him to crouch down at her level, which he did immediately, snapping out of his thoughts. 

“Hi, sweetie,” he said as he wrapped Ella in his arms and stood up again with an over-exaggerated groan, resting her on his hip. “Hi,” he added, barely permitting his gaze to rest on the woman who was sitting cross-legged on the ground, as he avoided eye contact at all costs – mostly because he didn’t want to focus on the ankle-length sundress that was hugging every curve of your body. 

You studied him as if he’d had two heads, and he honestly understood. He knew he was a jerk, but he was not getting attached and this was the only way for you to remain distant. His walls had rebuilt themselves right back up, closing everything and everyone out, just like they had been for almost a year now. It was all he could do. 

It was the only thing he knew how to do. 

“Hi,” finally you whispered, the corners of your lips lifting up for him, and a weird feeling came alive in his stomach and in his chest. 

He ignored every single sentiment he might have been harboring and redirected his attention on his daughter, adjusting her on his hip as he asked, “How was your day?” 

Her curious eyes twinkled with excitement as she began to talk about her day and the rehearsals for the school play, “And then, Miss Davis said I’m a beautiful flower!” She finished, grinning at him, pleased with her performance. 

A smile erupted on JJ’s  face, proud of his little girl, “Yeah? You’re gonna be the star of the show, nugget.” 

Ella giggled at the nickname he knew she loved, “You’re silly, daddy.” Ultimately, she wiggled out of his embrace, forcing him to put her down, as she went to sit next to you, her tiny hand grabbing one of the color pencils to resume drawing her masterpiece. 

His gaze abandoned his daughter’s sweet, focused expression to fall upon the woman who had just lovingly tucked a strand of hair behind Ella’s ear. He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander, lingering on your figure for far too long as he admired your beauty, the way you softly stared at his daughter, your dazzling eyes that held the power to ignite a fire inside him — one that he didn’t think he had felt for a long time, if not ever. Shaking his head in the futile attempt to push those thoughts out of his mind, he began walking towards the kitchen, muttering, “I’ll start makin’ dinner.” 

He could’ve hired another babysitter for Ella, cut you completely out of his life, and yet he was not sure you would’ve stopped haunting his mind. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It wasn’t supposed to happen. His body shouldn’t have reacted to you the way that it did, his blood wasn’t allowed to boil with desire every time he caught you gazing up at him, and he surely couldn’t have let that weird feeling resurface in his chest with each stolen glance and brush of shoulders. 

JJ leaned with his back against the kitchen counter, running his fingers through his hair, messing it up and hoping that the motion somehow made the images inside his head fade away. He didn’t remember having these kind of thoughts about someone before, not even Lily, and they had been engaged once. Maybe he needed to go out on a date, it had been close to a year since he had been with a woman, in every single sense, which had never bothered him…before. Completely in his own head, he undid the first buttons of his white dress-shirt, finally taking some deep breaths – perhaps to forget about his horrible day, or maybe about the woman that was currently sitting in his living room. 

“Mr. Maybank?” He almost jumped at the sound of you, close to believing that he had gone so insane that he was starting to hear the soft melody of your voice in his head. “I’m sorry, I –“

Words completely died in your throat when he turned around. It was impossible to explain what that sight was doing to you; unbuttoned shirt that was showing his hard chest, unkempt golden locks, Adam’s apple restlessly bobbing up and down,  as a…was that a pained expression on his face? You weren’t sure – not that you had time to register his emotions when his eyes stared at you that way. Ocean eyes studied you as if you had been all that he was able to think about, like you had just caught him in a sinful act of which you were the main character. The autumn chill must have gotten to you as goosebumps began to arise on the exposed skin of your arms, and there wasn’t a single doubt in your head that he hadn’t noticed that small detail. You were obviously crazy, though. He couldn’t have been possibly imagining what you were thinking…

Right?

Clearing your throat, embarrassed at the awkward situation, you regained your composure. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t.” He rasped, unaware of how you had just squeezed your legs together. It was a miracle that he hadn’t notice with the way his eyes seemed to be eating you whole. 

“I wanted to warn you that I spoke with Miss. Davis today and she invited me to Ella’s school play,” you began fidgeting with your hands, praying that you weren’t crossing any lines, “I wished I had talked to you about it beforehand, but Ella was there and she begged me to come –“ an amused giggle escaped your lips, bringing JJ’s attention to your mouth, which had caused him to use all of his self-control to look away, “—And I couldn’t say no. I hope it’s okay with you.”

Good. Great. A whole afternoon sitting next to you. Hours of having to breathe your heavenly perfume and being forced to resist the urge to lean in. It definitely wasn’t a problem for JJ. Absolutely no problemo. He was handling you being in his own home, so he could’ve survived a couple of hours with his arm brushing against yours. 

Fuck.

He had to hold back a groan when he noticed your curious stare, nervously waiting for an answer, oblivious to the battle he was having with himself. “If you don’t want me there, I completely understand. I can explain it to her, really, I’m sorry –“

“No. ‘Course you can come,” he stopped your agitated rambling upon realizing that his silence had been the cause of it, “Ella wants you there.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. It would’ve been so hard to explain to the little girl why you couldn’t attend her play, and you were thankful JJ had no objections about it. “Oh, and if you don’t want to take the afternoon off, I can just videotape the whole thing for you, or anyway, I will be there with her so no worries.”

JJ’s eyebrows furrowed in an adorable way – was it weird to think that the older, big, usually grumpy man in front of you looked adorable? – and gave you a confused stare. “Why wouldn’t I go to my daughter’s recital?”

As if it had been the most obvious thing in the world for you, because it was what you knew, how you had been raised, you shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “I just thought that – I mean, since there’s going to be someone with her, you’re not forced to attend. I assumed —”  

“No one’s forcing me. That’s not how it works.” Because I’m not my dad was what he wanted to say, but had kept to himself. 

Oh. That wasn’t what you had expected. You can barely swallow the lump in your throat, a fair sting touching your eyes as you all but made contact with his. “Sorry, I– Nothing. I’m sorry.” You tried to escape from the situation with a shred of dignity, hoping that the tears that were threatening to run down your cheeks weren’t going to embarrass you. 

Your father had never cared. Not the way JJ did with Ella, not the way other fathers did with their daughters. A stupid play can always be videotaped, not that he had ever bothered to watch it.  Maybe it was dumb, but the fact that JJ cared so much for his daughter never made you stop thinking about your own father, and how he had never been one-tenth of the man that JJ was. 

He noticed the change in your demeanor, and for a second he was scared he had said something wrong. Somehow, he always managed to say the wrong things with you, caused by his futile attempts of keeping you at arm’s length – which was the reason why he let you go, mumbling a frail “Bye” as you exited the house. He wanted to ask you to stay for dinner, to just sit down and let him do something for a change, let him ask you what was wrong and allow him to find a solution for you, but instead, he had remained silent. 

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[jjsbank444-deactivated20250721]

EEEEEK MY FAVOURITE SERIES IS BACK!!! Girl you know just how to spoil me😌

Ugh I missed him and Ella so much, I forgot just how much I love his grumpy ass🥹

Was that what you had become? Were you starting to be attracted to single dads? - me questioning everything when I read this series😵‍💫

He could’ve hired another babysitter for Ella, cut you completely out of his life, and yet he was not sure you would’ve stopped haunting his mind. - HES SO WHIPPED YOUR HONOR

It’s just all so perfect as always, I missed reading your writings so much<33 ilyyy🫶🏻

[mvybanks]

BABEEEEE IM SO GLAD THAT YOU LIKED IT!!!!!! i missed writing grumpy jj🤭🤭 AND HE IS WHIPPED!! thank you so so much baby MWAAAAH <333

[mvybanks]

SOMEONE TO STAY — pt. 3

a/n: i’m a bad person who takes too long to write a fic i know😫 i hope you guys like this!

warnings: lil bit of angst & fluff

word count: 2.6k

pairing: single dad!jj x babysitter!reader

nav        someone to stay masterlist

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add yourself to my taglist <3

—

When you arrived outside the Maybank’s household that afternoon, you should’ve known something was wrong by the way the owner’s car hadn’t moved from its spot since the night before – but you hadn’t thought about it twice when you had rang the doorbell, expecting your boss to be ready, and seemingly annoyed as always, to leave for work. Instead, a new version of JJ Maybank had opened the front door of the beautiful building, one that included him wearing a white, stained t-shirt, grey sweatpants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and messy, blond locks which were falling in his mesmerizing eyes.

This job was going to be the death of you.

“Shit.” Was all he whispered to himself at the sight of you, pushing his hair back in frustration. “I’m sorry, I forgot to call you.”

You raised one eyebrow at him, confused at his behavior, although amused because of the new look. “Is there something wrong?”

As he opened his mouth to explain, you recognized the small and weak voice of Ella echoing through the empty house. “Daddy, my head hurts.” She cried, an unusual strain in her tone making you immediately worried. 

“I’m coming, sweetie.” He replied sweetly as his features softened while referring to his daughter. “She’s sick.” He sighed, “She got sick last night and I’ve been taking care of her all morning, but she keeps throwing up and she’s got a fever of 101 that just won’t go away.” His rambling almost made you smile as you realized that he had never said so many words to you in one sentence, but you were too busy focusing on the little girl’s conditions to care about that. “You can leave. I’ll still pay you, don’t worry.”

Oh, there was no way you were going to leave him there when Ella was so sick. You shook your head and attempted at getting inside as you said, “Let me help.” But apparently JJ was so tired that he hadn’t understood your intentions, so he stayed there, your hand on his chest for you were trying to push him into the house. 

He only looked down at your hand, which made heat rush to your cheeks and the rest of your body in embarrassment. “You don’t have to, I’ve got this.” He coldly added, as if he wanted to prove something, but you weren’t aware of what. 

“I know,” you smiled softly, unknowingly causing his heartbeat to pick up, “I want to help you take care of her though, if that’s alright with you.”

For once, you had accomplished at stealing every word from his mouth. He only nodded, an unreadable expression adorning his features as he gave you enough space to enter his house. Ella was on the couch, her head on a pillow that they had stolen from her room, and the rest of her body was covered by a light pink blanket, which seemed to have eaten her whole for she looked even smaller than the usual. Her blond curls ran unruly, slightly covering her tightly closed eyes. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” You ran to her, completely ignoring the man beside you and focusing your attention on the sick girl. 

“Lottie?” Her tired eyes opened to stare at you, warm tears ready to spill from them.

You ran a hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face, which made you realize how sweaty she had gotten. Finally, you looked at JJ again, whose curious eyes were trained on your figure. “Can you grab a wet cloth for me, please?” You asked as you went to lie next to Ella, placing her in your lap. “I’m going to try making this fever go down.”

He cleared his throat, for he had noticed how much it had started constricting at the sight of you taking care of his daughter. “You’re going to get sick if you sit with her.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you kept brushing Ella’s hair in order to make her relax. “It’s okay.”

“And what if I need you here and you can’t watch her because you got a fever?” He scoffed, trying to be mad at you because he had no other way to express what he was feeling.

You shook your head in disbelief; not only your job was to take care of his daughter, but he also had to hate you as you did so? 

“And what if I don’t get sick and your daughter feels better?” Then, staring into his icy blue eyes, you continued, “The glass is not always half-empty, Mr. Maybank.” 

Stricken, although impossible to detect, JJ stared at you for a second before he silently walked inside the kitchen to get the wet cloth that you had asked him to bring. He didn’t know how you were able to put him in his place and to let his guard fall to the ground each time, but there you were, ordering him around in his own house. It had taken him a long time to put up a façade that would’ve pushed everyone away – so how come it wasn’t working with you?

Once he had brought what you had asked for, he attentively watched as you took care of Ella, placing the cloth on her forehead and lulling her to sleep. 

“Why don’t you go rest or take a shower, Mr. Maybank?” you whispered to him, attempting at not disturbing the little girl in your arms, “I got her.” 

He shook his head and tried to sit next to you, “No, she’s sick and she needs me.”

The corners of your mouth lifted up for him, completely unaware of the effect that it’d had on his tired brain, “She needs to sleep and so do you. Don’t worry, I’ll come get you if she asks for you, is that alright?”

He hesitated, but then he agreed. “…Yeah.”

JJ couldn’t get through his head why someone who had no connection to his daughter would go out of their way to help both him and her. You were so polite and kind and loving and so damn beautiful, why did you had to end up in his house out of everyone? But then again, the thought of someone else having you in their house made a sick feeling come alive in his stomach — and he was sure it wasn’t Ella’s flu.

And with the knowledge of you taking care of his daughter, he fell asleep peacefully for hours. As your face was the only image on his mind, he hated himself for it. The moment his eyelids fell closed, you were all he was able to think about. You were plaguing his mind and all that he could do about it was burying his thoughts into the deepest, most secret parts of his brain and never say it out loud.

That was going to be easy, right?

—

He walked out of his room only to reach the bathroom, and his feet felt heavy and slow when he crashed against something — or better, someone. JJ lazily placed his hands on your shoulders to stabilize the both of you.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbled, tiredness still obvious in his tone.

“It’s okay, Mr. Maybank.”

He realized how close you were standing, how his hands were still touching you and the way you were looking up at him, as if you were waiting for something.

“Miss Jones,” he breathed as neither of you seemed to want to step away, “You should keep walking.”

Staring up at him, you leaned closer, a challenging look in your eyes. “Are you sure you want me to?”

JJ had no idea what was going on. Why were his lips so close to yours all of a sudden? And why wasn’t he doing anything to stop it?

“You’re Ella’s babysitter,” he rasped, “This can end really badly.”

Having no control on the situation, he let you step even closer and bend his head down until your mouth was next to his ear. “The glass is not always half-empty, Mr. Maybank.” You whispered before biting down on his earlobe.

—

JJ woke up in a cold sweat. He tried to regain his breath and make his thumping heart relax before he threw his head back on his pillow with a loud sigh.

Burying you in the hidden places of his brain wasn’t going to be easy at all. Not when you kept showing up in his dreams, being the main character of his darkest desires.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand to check on his texts, but the time showing on his screen made him all but jump out of his bed. How the hell did he end up sleeping through the whole afternoon?

Quickly, JJ stepped inside the living room, only to find it empty, both of the girls he was looking for nowhere to be found. Finally, he tried his daughter’s room. And for god’s sake, he wished he had never done that. There you were, sitting next to Ella, who was about to fall asleep, as you were reading from the book that was full of her favorite bed time stories. You carefully and gently brushed the hair out of her face with one hand while you held the book with the other, reading the words out loud with a soft voice.

JJ leaned against the doorframe, watching the scene in front of him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to ruin the special moment, until Ella noticed him.

“Daddy?” She asked sleepily, slightly lifting her head off the pillow to look at him.

“Hey, sweetie,” he walked towards her, “How are you feeling?”

Yawning, she nuzzled further into her bedsheets and completely relaxed when her dad sat on the other side of the bed. “‘M better, daddy.”

You stared at him to smile, but he avoided your eyes immediately. Seriously? What the hell was his problem?

You couldn’t have known that he was unable to make eye contact with you after the dream he’d just had. His blood boiled with something he didn’t want to name every time his eyes fell on you, therefore he attempted at doing it as little times as possible. And yet, that was too hard as well, because taking his eyes off of you was just as impossible as it was stop thinking about you.

He bent his head down to kiss Ella’s forehead. “I’m so glad you feel better, sweetie.”

As he lifted back up, he let himself steal a glance at you, but your confused gaze was already on him.

“The fever’s gone,” you spoke up, “And the last time she threw up was hours ago. I think she’s going to be all good by tomorrow.”

He nodded in approval, then he left another kiss on his daughter’s forehead before whispering good night to her. Once she fell asleep, the two of you left the room in silence.

“Thank you for today,” he finally admitted, which immediately got your attention as he had never said those two words to you. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Although fighting against yourself, you decided to gift him one of your sweetest grins. “Of course. This is my job and I adore Ella. I would’ve never abandoned her today.”

JJ tried to swallow the lump in his throat at the mention of the word “abandon” alone, but it had seemed quite difficult, resulting in silence.

At the lack of response from him, you continued, “She’s such a sweet kid. You’ve done an amazing job with her.”

For a friction of a second, you swore he had smiled at your words, which had made your heart squeeze. “Thank you,” he added, and for the second time that evening.

“Woah, was that a smile and two thank you’s, Mr. Maybank?” You teased him, smirking, “Be careful, otherwise I might think you don’t hate me so much.”

The corners of his mouth turned into a frown, and he assumed the grumpy and cold look he would always wear around you once again. You were trying so hard to break down the ice that surrounded his heart, but nothing seemed to stop the cold from resurfacing every single time. Sometimes you started to wonder if you weren’t paranoid about him hating your guts and he actually disliked your presence.

Truth be told, JJ hated how much he didn’t hate you — not even a little bit. He loathed the fact that he had never not-hated someone as much as he didn’t hate you. But mostly, he couldn’t bear having you stand that close to him and being unable to do anything about it.

Awkwardly clearing your throat, you decided to break the silence. “I made dinner. I hope that’s okay.”

His eyes widened, and you weren’t even aware his face knew how to be expressive. He was speechless. “Why?” Was all he had mustered to get out.

You shrugged your shoulders as you walked into the living room. “I just wanted to help out a bit. You and Ella have had such a rough night, you deserved something home cooked. She ate really early, but there are still lots of leftovers in the microwave —“

“Eat with me.” JJ stopped your rambling, which had surely been caused by the silence that he had brought into the conversation.

This time it was your turn to gawk at him, dumbfounded. “Uhm, what?”

Placing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, he lifted his shoulders in nonchalance. “Eat with me. You’ve been taking care of us all day, and you cooked, so really it’s the least I can do.”

You shook your head, biting down on your bottom lip to stop your mouth from saying things that you would’ve probably regretted.

But damn it, wasn’t that driving him insane.

“C’mon, Miss Jones.” He was the one to tease then, smirking proudly at you, “Don’t make me beg.”

That man was an enigma you were never going to solve. One time he was cold, then he asked you to eat with him one second later; first he could barely look at you, then he was teasing and smirking. Cryptic and smug, that’s what he was. A man that was used to get his way whenever he wanted just because of his looks, and sexy accent, and penetrating eyes, and kindness and —

“As much as I’d love to see that, I’m stopping you right there.” You chuckled, “I’ll go set the table.”

And so, against all of your wildest fantasies, you spent the evening eating dinner with JJ Maybank — your boss, who apparently didn’t hate you as much as you had believed. You talked and laughed, and although it might have seemed impossible, he actually laughed with you!

Perhaps your boss didn’t dislike you that much. Perhaps he didn’t consider you his greatest enemy like you thought. Maybe you had imagined it all, you had probably blown it out of proportion and had made too much of a big deal about it — just like when, for only a second, Mr. Maybank seemed to feel the complete opposite of dislike for you as he stared at you for far too long when you giggled or talked about anything.

But then again, you were blowing things out of proportion, so it was better to ignore your instincts for a while, included the ones that told you to lean into him when he spoke.

You were in so much trouble.

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[featherandferns]

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.”

[writingjjfics]

10 things I hate about you is my favorite movie and I loved this!!! ❤️

[writingjjfics]

I cannot stop thinking about a boat day with JJ and him just being the sweetest but also a little shit at the same time and he plays all his country favs on the speaker 🤭

🏖️ I loveee this! 🌊

-------------------------------------

"JJ! I swear to god", you called out to the boy at the front of the boat. A mischievous grin plastered on his face, while he was driving the boat a little too fast for your liking.

Your stomach churned with every bounce, making it more and more unbearable by the second. "Seriously JJ, I'm going to be sick", you yelled over the roar of the engine.

The boat slowed down abruptly and the water stilled. JJ turned towards you, and gave you an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry babe, got carried away a little." You rolled your eyes, knowing he was just doing it to tease you, because he knew how easily you get seasick.

"We are almost there by the way, so don't worry, I'm not doing it again", he chuckled and winked at you.

A few minutes later you arrived at this beautiful, small, distant beach. JJ anchored the boat and hopped off onto the soft sand. He reached out his hand for you to take, "Welcome to paradise, m'lady." he announced giving you a kiss on your hand.

The rest of the day was spent swimming, taking pictures and JJ making it up to you for driving so fast, and the best way he can make it up to you is .., well we all know what that is … he picked out this distant beach for a reason.

[santaasi]

DANCE WITH ME

pairing: jj maybank x dancer!fem!reader

summary: jj maybank loves the sea, the sandy beach of north carolina and the warm sun. new york is the exact opposite of all this. and he hates it. but she... she changes everything.

warnings: new york au, fluff, slight angst (as usual), but happy ending, miscommunication trope, a little use of y/n, some language, english is not my first language

word count: 5.9k

a/n: first of all, thank u all for supporting my first two works here. I rly couldn’t have expected so much love and support from all of u, but i appreciate it. secondly, I can't write summaries, so i think it sounds kinda shitty. thirdly, it was supposed to be a small blurb, but I was carried away and I couldn't stop. and fourthly, I listened to Slaves - Body on Fire and Katy Perry - Wide Awake while writing this oneshot, so I advise everyone to do the same.

The huge theater hall of the New York School of the Fine Arts was getting more crowded and noisier by the second. People dressed in ridiculously posh suits, as if they had come to a reception at Buckingham Palace, took their seats and from time to time looked askance at the two guys sitting in one of the front rows.

In particular, all those present, as it seemed to JJ himself, looked at him with special disapproval interest. Compared to this bunch of rich bastards who had nothing to do on Thursday night except watch their ‘creatively gifted’ children jumping around the stage in tutus, he looked like a black sheep in his dark jeans, a white T-shirt with unwashed ketchup stains and a cap on. He looked like a total looser, who had missed his shift at a godforsaken restaurant in the Bronx only to watch his best friend’s new girlfriend performance, while everyone around him was showing off their wealth and position. Showing JJ his place.

JJ Maybank had no place in this money-rotten world. And he knew it perfectly well.

And why was he sitting here then?

Just as simple as it is. Because of John Booker Routledge. JJ Maybank adored his best friend. No, not best friend. JJ Maybank adored his brother, John B., who saved him from an abusive and alcoholic father, allowing him to move into his small flat in the Bronx and gave him a chance to make a fresh start.

John B. Routledge was always there for JJ. They spent all the happy and sad moments together, supporting and helping each other. And Maybank, in gratitude for everything, was ready to do anything for John B. Absolutely anything.

That's why he was now sitting in a maroon-upholstered theater chair, waiting for the start of a ballet performance in which John B's new girlfriend, Sarah, had the main role, and felt all these rich jerks staring at him. And it annoyed him.

He was annoyed by all these vain idiots and how they always looked down on guys like John and J, who had to literally fight for their lives in this huge city, while those rich bastards were drinking prosecco on the veranda of their Soho estate.

He was annoyed by the kids of these jerks who studied at these luxurious art schools, a semester in which cost so much that JJ could live happily on this money for five years or even more.

He was annoyed by whole this situation, which literally screamed: “Look at us! We have a lot of money that we spend on stupid school performances, so that our kids would think they're talented.”

JJ Maybank was not envious. It was just that he, a man who had worked his whole life in order not to starve, did not perceive all this creative entertainments as something serious at all. He didn't go to theaters, operas, ballets and the like. For him, it was stupid shows to launder money from these rich peeps. And JJ wouldn't be sitting in this chair waiting for the play to start if it wasn't for John B. John B., who needed his support in this fashionable enemy lair.

Exhaling irritably, catching another look of disgust from some elderly lady in furs, J took off his cap and ran fingers through his blond hair, turning to John B., who was looking at the curtains and tapping his feet on the floor.

“I'm going to take a leak and smoke, okay, John?" JJ patted him on the shoulder before getting up from his seat and heading out of the hall. John just nodded without taking his eyes off the stage.

This guy was obsessed with Sarah. And it's not that JJ didn't understand what his best mate found in a pretty blonde girl, it's just... it's just that Maybank never thought that John B would be all lovey-dovey with some chick that was completely out of his league. Although Routledge always had freer views in this rich/poor hierarchy, while JJ was sure that all the kids born with a golden spoon in their mouths were stuck up bitches not worth his attention.

Of course, Sarah Cameron proved the opposite. As they would say in North Carolina, she was kook on the outside, but a true pogue in her heart. But, as Maybank believed, this was a one-in-a-million exception.

JJ was walking along a bright corridor, trying to find the exit, when he caught a barely audible melodie. The guy followed the sound, looking through the glass in the slightly ajar door leading to a bright, spacious ballroom with large panoramic windows and ballet bars. In the middle of the sunset-drenched hall stood a young girl, who sometimes came with Sarah to hang out with John and JJ, but he never paid enough attention to her.

More precisely, she was too out of reach for a guy like JJ, to pay her attention that he wanted to. She was kind, sincere, her smile could light up, it seemed, the whole world. She always laughed at his jokes, even the dumbest ones. The mere touch of her fingers on his skin made JJ burn as if he were being immersed in a flaming cauldron of hell.

She was incredibly smart, funny and breathtakingly beautiful. Just the sight of her in a small summer dress made everything in front of his eyes fade, leaving only her. She was too perfect in his eyes, like an angel descending from heaven to torment him, JJ Maybank, showing him what he could never have. Making him hate his position and his life. Making him envious of these dumb rich assholes. Because she was too good for a bad guy like JJ Maybank.

And now, looking at her fragile frame, watching the elegant swings of her hands, perfectly honed movements and the flight of her hair from each new spin, JJ's heart in the chest was treacherously squeezed with delight. His breathing, as well as time, stopped, and it seemed to the guy as if the world had stopped too, leaving only her in his field of vision. Neat facial features, flushed cheeks, slightly parted lips, gaze concentrated on the mirror, but as if looking into another dimension. She looked beautiful, flawless... No, she looked divine.

JJ didn't know how long he had been standing in the hallway looking at Sarah Cameron's friend. But as soon as the music ended, and she ran her hand over her hot face, pushing back the hair stuck to her skin. As soon as she raised a bottle of water to her lips taking a couple of sips. And as soon as her gaze fell on the guy on the other side of the door. Maybank immediately came out of his entranced state, feeling caught and ashamed.

Turning around on his heels, JJ walked swiftly to the exit, still feeling his heart beating in his chest at breakneck speed, and her gentle image rises before his eyes. A wave of the hand. Jump. Spin. And again the hand is in the air. Jump… Spin… The music is like the sound of the sea... Her eyes are like warm sand…

The cold February wind hit him in the face and without even thinking, the guy lit a cigarette, looking into the void.

He hated New York and the cold of the city. He missed North Carolina. Kildare with its warm sun and sandy beaches. The smell of the sea, the sound of waves and surfing…

Why is he even thinking about the Outer Banks now, three years after he left without even once looking back…?

JJ Maybank did not return to that room full of these loaded bastards, steeped in luxury and affectation. Instead, he lowered his head and got to their shared apartment on the outskirts of the Bronx, where the rats and the crazy granny neighbor who was always bothering him for nothing were waiting for him.

But for the first time in three years, JJ Maybank didn't care about any of this. He was still standing in that hallway. He looked through the glass at the sunlit room.

A wave of the hand. Jump. Spin.

And again. Her hand is in the air... Jump… Spin…

The music is like the sound of the sea... Her eyes are like warm sand… And her light smile, like the warm sun of Kildare…

JJ Maybank fell in love.

If someone had told him six months ago that his heart would beat a thousand beats per minute just by looking at her, or that when talking to her, he would not be able to find more than one suitable word and would only stand and watch her giggle softly at his reaction... He would have laughed in the man's face. Because JJ Maybank doesn't fall in love. He spends one night with a girl and forgets about her in the morning. He takes napkins with numbers he will never call and throws them in the nearest trash can.

JJ Maybank is not made for relationships. He does not get attached and cannot love. But for some reason, he feels differently with her.

JJ Maybank fell in love.

And if six months ago he would have been told that he would work two shifts to buy himself a white dress shirt and a pair of decent trousers just to sit in a maroon velvet armchair among rich pompous bastards and watch her dance on stage... Watch how she transforms in her dance, becoming even more beautiful... Watch her every move, every curve of her body and the soft rise of her hands just to catch the smallest changes on her flawless face…

And then, meet her in the hall with a bouquet of her favorite tulips in his hands, for which he borrowed money from John B., just to see her smile like Kildare's sun and hear her laugh that reminds him of waves crashing on the shore.

JJ Maybank fell head over heels in love with her.

And it was obvious to everyone as a clear day.

John B. saw his friend's pupils turn into two big throbbing hearts when he saw her. John B. saw how JJ, who had always been confident around the girls, turned into a small helpless puppy who could not utter a single word as soon as she appeared next to him. John B. noticed how his best friend's life changed dramatically with the arrival of her in JJ's life.

JJ Maybank's life, which previously consisted only of home, work and a couple of weekend parties, now consisted only of work and meetings with her after which he went back to work.

Sarah wasn't blind to the changes in JJ's behavior either. The first time she saw him on the steps of the NYAFA, she thought that something had happened to John B., but when she realized that Maybank was not waiting for her, but for her friend, everything immediately fell into place. JJ's frequent appearance at performances at the academy, even when John B. did not go to them, the flowers that changed every three days in their shared with Y/N house, his questions about her best friend's preferences and many other things finally made sense.

Therefore, at her birthday party, Sarah decided to be a wingman and do everything possible to connect loving hearts. After all, Cameron did not escape the reactions from Y/N, who too often began to ask questions about JJ, who began to devote more time to her appearance and blushed every time Sarah mentioned only the name of the blonde.

Now JJ was sitting at a table in the Cameron's house backyard in Soho, which was decorated with sparkling lights in honor of the birthday girl, and stirring a glass of brandy in his hand. His gaze was once again focused only on her, dancing with Sarah on an improvised dance floor to some Latin music. The skirt of her white dress was like sea foam rising and falling with her every movement, and her ringing laughter made his heart skip a beat. During the four months of his addiction to her, it became a habitual body reaction for him.

JJ chuckled as he drained the rest of the brandy before lifting his head and meeting her glittering, emerald-like eyes. Her cheeks were red and her lips stretched into a wide smile. The guy saw how her chest quickly fell and rose after active dancing. The girl tilted her head slightly, bringing a red cup with drink to her lips before sitting down next to Maybank.

“Are you enjoying the party, Jay?" the girl teased. Her velvety voice carried like an electric current through his body before Maybank turned his head in her direction.

“Rather enjoying the view,” JJ grinned, winking at her, making the poor girl blush. She giggled softly and rolled her eyes playfully, nudging him lightly on the shoulder.

“I'm serious, by the way. You look tired,” the girl murmured and a line appeared between her brows. “And lately, I- I rarely see you.”

JJ's heart skipped a beat at the thought that she was worried about him and a corners of his mouth lifted. He sat closure to her, putting his hand on the back of her chair, looking straight into her doe-eyes. The girl felt as if the air had been knocked out of her lungs by the very sight of that self-confident grin and the look into those deep blue eyes. J's hand softly touched her cheek as he brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. The girl sucked in a loud breath and involuntarily leaned into his touch.

“You shouldn't bother that pretty little head of yours with worries about me, princess,” the guy whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

“And what if I want to take care of you...” the girl said in a barely audible voice, swallowing a lump in her throat.

She could feel her heart about to burst out when JJ slightly closed the distance between them. His lips were unbearably close to hers and she felt his hot breath burning her skin, and his hand continued to gently stroke her cheek. She had never wanted to kiss someone so much in her life.

For the past four months, all she could think about was the guy who came to her every performance when even her parents weren't there. The guy who meets her every night from rehearsals and asks her about her day. The guy who gives her his hoodie when she gets cold. The guy who brings her a bouquet of her favorite tulips every three days and leaves cute notes inside that she keeps in a shoe box under the bed.

Before JJ Maybank, all her thoughts were occupied only with dancing, which she lived and breathed, rehearsals, preparations for concerts and dreams of Broadway.

Now everything that surrounded her: a fresh bouquet of tulips in the kitchen, a blue hoodie with the smell of the sea in her closet, notes in a box under her bed and even the music she danced to - reminds her of him. She thinks about JJ when she wakes up and when she fall asleep. When she's dancing, when she's choosing music for a new performance, when she's walking, when she's reading, when she's resting. She thinks about JJ Maybank, about his light soft disheveled hair, about his blue eyes in which she could drown, about the smell of the salty sea that seemed to soak into his skin, constantly.

And now that he was so close to her, when he touched her face and looked at her with such tenderness, all she wanted to do was pull him closer and kiss him. But instead she swallowed, barely breaking away from him as Sarah's voice shattered their little vacuum world. Maybank cursed softly, running his hand through his hair before looking back at the girl who had already got up from her seat, preparing to head towards Sarah.

“Will you dance with me when I'm done with her?" A nervous laugh escaped her lips as she turned around halfway, looking hopefully at the guy.

JJ was taken aback. He wanted to agree. He wanted to say that he would be happy to dance with her, but... but he couldn't dance. And he was ashamed to admit it to someone for whom dancing was hers whole life. And he didn't want their first dance to be a complete failure just because he was a fool who couldn't move his bear paws and didn't know where to put his hands and how to behave properly and…

“Mhm. I'm already leaving. I have a night shift, so… Maybe another time?” the guy said distantly and shrugged, getting up from his chair.

Meeting her gaze, which literally screamed disappointment and that his answer hurt her, J immediately regretted his words and wanted to return them, but it was too late. The girl faked a smile and nodded.

“Then... maybe... another time? See ya, Jay,” she said finally and disappeared into the crowd, trying to suppress the tears that are starting to fill her eyes.

"Yeah… next time," the guy echoed, watching her move further away from him.

JJ Maybank was head over heels in love.

And even though he wasn't a genius before, he was a complete fool now.

Three weeks later, her dreams and her heart were broken. Three weeks after Sarah's birthday, she realized that all of JJ's feelings for her were just her own delusions.

At first, they just started seeing each other less often. He no longer met her after rehearsals, as he took extra shifts at work, but still sent her flowers every three days. He messaged her every day asking how her day was and how she was feeling, told her funny stories from work on their evenings phone calls and everything seemed fine. But after two weeks, all their communication came to naught. She offered to meet a couple of times, but JJ refused, saying that he had a job and as soon as his co-worker will recover from his unexpected illness, they would definitely meet.

And she believed him. And waited.

Until one day she saw JJ Maybank with a cup of coffee in his hand, strolling down Lexington Avenue smiling at a dark-haired girl, so beautiful as if she had stepped off the cover of vogue magazine when, according to him, he was supposed to be at work.

And at that moment, her whole world seemed to collapse.

She knew that she had no rights to the guy, that he had promised her nothing. And she understood perfectly well that they were not in a relationship, and that in fact he could spend his time with anyone. But her heart beat painfully in her chest from the realization that all those sweet and meaningful moments with him were now just nothing.

All those notes, flowers, late-night calls and conversations, that almost kiss - were now nothing and it broke her heart.

But the worst thing about this situation was the realization that instead of talking, JJ just decided to ignore her and ghost her, coming up with stupid excuses not to see her.

Maybe she did something wrong? Or maybe some of her words hurt him? Or was she too clingy? A lot of questions were spinning in the girl's head, but all she could do was lock herself in her room and cry, glad that Sarah had gone to her family for a couple of days. She didn't want to discuss this topic with anyone, not even with her best friend.

From that day on, she stopped texting JJ in the morning and calling in the evenings when she returned from rehearsals. She stopped opening the door to the courier, who continued to bring her flowers from him. And she hid his hoodie, smelling of the sea, away in the closet. She cut JJ Maybank out of her life, devoting herself to dancing, shutting herself off from the world around her.

At first, JJ did not notice that the girl had pulled away from him, immersed in her business and work.

More precisely, he noticed that she no longer wrote or called him after training, but for the first three days he attributed it to her busy schedule. Maybank remembered that she had mentioned preparing for an audition for a Broadway troupe, and thought that was what she was doing. But when he hadn't heard from her for a week, he got worried.

To tell the truth, JJ has been restless all week. He was so used to her presence in his life, to her morning messages that gave him energy for the whole day, to her evening calls and laughter on the phone that made his soul feel better, that the absence of these small moments felt like emptiness. Like a black corridor with no exit.

And JJ started writing to her himself, but he didn't get a reply. Then he started calling her, but all the calls were forwarded to the voicemail. He went to the academy, but he never saw her. And eventually he met Sarah, who was also completely unaware.

“Since I came from my parents, she hasn't been herself,” Sarah admitted, biting her lip, frowning slightly. “She hardly talks to me, she's always rehearsing, and it's like she's dropped out of life. I do not know what's wrong with her, JJ.”

Because of the whole situation, JJ Maybank couldn't live fully.

He continued to write to her, call her, even wrote letters by hand, as in those romantic films that she loved so much, throwing them under her door, but he never received an answer. Not a single response in a month.

He had been living without her in his life for a whole fucking month, and if before he was sure that he was in love with her, now JJ Maybank was a thousand percent sure that he loved her to the point of insanity and physical pain.

He wanted to hear her laugh every day. He wanted to wake up and see her smile and sparkling eyes first. He wanted to listen to her endless chatter about her favorite actors, singers and dancers. He wanted to watch her dance, watch how her soul seemed to rise somewhere higher, to where he had no access. He wanted to watch her laugh, blush, cry, be sad or angry for the rest of his life.

JJ Maybank wanted to spend his whole life with her. Because she is life itself. She is the ocean, the sound of waves, wet sand and warm sun. She's Kildare. She's his home.

And JJ Maybank wasn't going to give up on that. Not today. Not now. Never.

The sun had long sunk below the horizon. It was raining like hell, and even if JJ had an umbrella, it definitely wouldn't have saved him. No one could hide from the spring rains of New York.

JJ was standing under a tree near the entrance to the Academy of Fine Arts, waiting for her.

Today, JJ will solve all their problems and confess his feelings to her. No matter the weather, no matter her mood, or even the meteor shower, he will do everything to make her listen to him. And if after that she decides that she doesn't want to see him, then he will leave her life forever. But if, for once in his life, luck would be on his side, and she reciprocates, then... then he will never let her go.

The big front door opened and Y/N walked out of the building, lifting her head up, looking at the sky. JJ froze for a second, watching as she lifted her backpack over her head and walked down the marble steps so beautiful and elegant. He hadn't seen her for almost a month and a half, and now that she was so close to him, all thoughts and intentions left his head. And just like the first time they met, he could only look at her and enjoy the view. But as soon as her foot hit the sidewalk and she headed for the bus stop, JJ came out of his hiding place calling her name.

The girl stopped halfway, slowly looking over her shoulder at the blond man approaching her. The world stopped around her in a second. She felt her knees ready to buckle, and her heart began to beat a painfully familiar accelerated rhythm. But before her feelings could fully grasp her again, the girl pulled herself together and turned away, swiftly walking away from him.

“No, wait! We need to talk!" JJ shouted through the noise of the rain, starting to run, catching her by the forearm and turning her towards him. The girl's eyes widened when his hand touched the bare skin of her forearm and her whole body felt like it was on fire.

“Let me go,” she said coldly, and JJ was a little taken aback, but did not let go of her hands, shaking his head negatively. He won't leave until he's sorted it out. He needed answers. And he needed her even more.

“I won't let you go until you tell me what's the matter with you"

The girl stared at the guy in shock, and then laughed out loud, throwing her head back, lowering the bag, as her hand was tired of holding it over her head. Raindrops immediately began to roll down her face and hair, drenching her to the skin in a second.

“Are you serious? What's the matter? You tell me what's the matter, JJ! Tired of your new doll and you decided to come back to me again, huh?”

Her eyes sparkled with the fire of anger, burning a hole in the uncomprehending JJ. She was furious and it was the first time he had seen her like this and did not understand what he had done to arouse such reaction in her. Her bag fell to the sidewalk and she came closer, lifting her head a little higher, looking straight into his eyes.

“What? Did you also play with her, made her feel needed, desired, and then dumped her? Yeah, Maybank? Did you do the same to her?”

She pulled her hand out of his grasp and pushed her palms into his chest. The guy staggered, but remained standing in place, frowning, watching her eyes fill with tears. Or was it just the rain?

“Why aren't you saying anything? Answer me! Did you do the same to her as you did to me?" The girl roared in his face, pushing him in the chest once more before taking a step back, shaking her head.

She turned away for a couple of seconds, gathering her thoughts. JJ heard her sniffle and felt his heart clench with pain. He didn't understand what she was angry about, who she was talking about and what she wanted him to say. Maybank wanted to pull her closer to him and calm her down, to tell her that everything would be fine and that they could work it out, but he was too overwhelmed by everything that was happening and couldn't even move.

“You know, I believed that you really liked me. I believed that for the first time in my life, someone liked me, and not Sarah or one of my friends, but you...” she sniffled again, wiping the tears that rolled down her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I-I really believed you… Why didn't you tell me you weren't interested in me? Why didn't you say you didn't want to talk to me? Why did you make up excuses that you were working or-”

“Excuses? I was really working. I took extra shifts and I-” finally realizing the reality of the situation, JJ began to speak, but she immediately interrupted him, throwing a look full of pain and resentment.

“I saw you and that girl coming out of the coffee shop together when you said you were going to work!" She exclaimed, covering her face with her hands, running her fingers through her dump hair.

JJ rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out what she meant, which girl she was talking about, until he remembered Brittany, his dance coach. He signed up for dance classes a month ago. Was it really all because of that? Was she ignoring him because she thought he was just having fun with her? No, no, she couldn't have thought that.…

“Hey, hey, no, it's all not what it seems,” the guy shook his head, taking a step forward, reaching for her hands, removing them from her face, squeezing them in his own.

His eyes scanned her face. The mascara flowed from moisture and tears, the eyes were slightly reddened, and the nose was swollen. And JJ looked at her again. Not understanding why she would even think that he would like someone like Brittany when she was all he could dream of. His hands cupped her face and with his thumbs he gently wiped away the black marks under her eyes. A soft sob escaped her lips and a fresh batch of tears rolled down her cheeks. He exhaled, pressing his forehead against hers, swallowing, breathing heavily.

“The truth is... that Brittany girl... she's my dance teacher,” JJ whispered and looked into her eyes, which were looking at him questioningly. She looked like a little lost child and he chuckled softly.

“That night, at Sarah's birthday party, when you asked me to dance…" J closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. He hoped that he would never have to admit it, and that his dancing lessons would remain a secret, but she had to know the truth so as not to consider him the jerk who played with her feelings. JJ didn't want her to think that of him. “I refused because I can't dance. And I was... I was ashamed. Dancing is your whole life and I would just embarrass myself in front of you… And you'd think I was some kind of fool...”

“But I-I would never have th-thought that,” the girl whispered softly. J opened his eyes, caught her sincere gaze and smiled. God, what a fool he was.

“That's right, but I... I was an insecure jerk, princess,” the guy admitted, grinning, tucking a wet curl behind her ear. “I'm… It all happened so fast and I... I never saw myself catching these feelings. I never asked for help or needed the healing. And I decided to take these damn dance classes for you... and I didn't want you to find out because I... because I'm a complete idiot, apparently,” the guy laughed softly, shaking his head.

JJ let go of her face and took a couple of steps back, giving her time to process everything he said. He could feel his heart beating wildly against the walls of his chest while she stood and was silent, fluttering her eyelashes.

“Listen, Princess. I know I should have told you and all that earlier, but I... God, you're driving me crazy, you know? I can't think, speak, or breathe when you're around. I'm head over heels in love with you, angel” Maybank ran his fingers through the hair, trying to collect his thoughts. “I can't stop the way that this felt. It keeps coming round and round and round and back again”

She looked at him in silence, feeling as if the heart that she had broken herself was beginning to heal from his words. And she wanted to cry how stupid she had been to believe that JJ was playing with her. While he was taking dance lessons so as not to look like a fool in front of her… She knew he didn't like dancing, but for her sake he went to classes to learn. For her sake, he stepped over himself a bunch of times, worked overtime and did everything to make her happy, and she just...

A loud sob escaped her lips and she covered her mouth with her hand, feeling tears blurring her eyes. Her legs buckled and she almost fell to the ground, but JJ quickly picked her up, hugging her to him.

“I'm sorry, Jay! I'm so so so sorry, I was such a fool! I-I-I didn't mean to! I-I-didn't know,” the girl whimpered into his chest, clinging to his soaked T-shirt. His free hand slowly stroked her wet hair while his other hand held her on her feet.

“Shhh… Everything's fine now, right? We'll figure it out and everything will be fine,” the guy whispered in her ear, kissing the top of her head. “You believe me, don't you?”

The girl raised her head looking at his calm face, on which raindrops were running, at his wet hair and soft smile, and her soul felt so warm, as if in a second she was at home in the warmth next to the fireplace with a warm mug of tea in her hands, and not standing under the cold pouring rain in the middle of the street. Her hand slowly soared into the air and removed the bangs that stuck to his forehead before nodding in agreement.

JJ's gaze swept over her soft features. First the eyes, then the pink cheeks and plump lips that he wanted to kiss so much. The guy exhaled, raising his eyes again, looking into hers.

“Will you dance with me?” He whispered hoarsely, without taking his eyes off her, holding out his hand.

She smiled, and it seemed to him that this smile could light up the whole world if the sun ever went out. She gently placed her hand in his palm, and put the other on his shoulder. JJ squeezed her hand, pulling her closer by the waist, so that he felt every cell of her body and took the first hesitant step, which she followed without even thinking.

Her gaze was focused on his eyes, blue as two oceans, in which she was drowning more and more with each new step of the dance. For the first time, she didn't think about what move she should make next, or what position to stand in to look good on stage, or about getting to the beat of the music. For the first time in a long time, she danced just for herself, as she felt and as she wanted, completely trusting in the hands of JJ Maybank. He with trepidation and tenderness whirled her around in a dance on the ever-hurrying streets of New York, which at that moment stopped their run. Leaving only her, JJ and their dance in this vast world.

“I think love you, JJ,” she whispered softly, looking into his eyes, feeling a lump rise in her throat from excitement. Maybank stopped holding her in his arms, studying her face carefully before saying hoarsely, “Say it again".

“I love you,” she said on an exhale, and as soon as these words were uttered for the second time, Maybank pulled her face closer and kissed her. Gently. No rush. Like he haven't kissed anyone else before her. Trying to feel every emotion to the fullest.

The New York's rain comes pouring down, not even thinking to stop. And JJ Maybank didn't like the New York's rain. He didn't like New York and the people who live here. He disliked theater, ballet and dancing.

But JJ Maybank loved the sea, the sun and sandy beaches. He also loved surfing and Kildare, which he had to leave three years ago. He loved his home, which was thousands of miles from New York.

Y/N Y/L loved New York with its weather and people. She lived by dancing and dreamed of performing on Broadway and had never been to North Carolina. But despite this, JJ Maybank saw her as his home: the waves of the sea in her laughter, the sandy beaches in her eyes and the warmth of the sun in her smile.

And next to her, it turned out that New York and North Carolina were not so different, and that his home would never be a thousand miles away. And from now on, It will always stay next to him, in his arms, on his lips, in his heart.

Because now JJ Maybank knew that his home had never been a place. It's always been a person. And it's her.

that’s my first such loooong oneshot here so, i’m a little nervous to post it. but i rly hope it came out good n not too boring.

I will be glad to receive any feedback. a comment, like or reblog always pleases that little writer’s heart of mine.

but, nevertheless, thankx for reading <3

– your santi ✨

[featherandferns]

orange juice (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | inspired by noah kahn's incredible music

content warning: mentions of drinking and drug use; mentions of abuse; mentions of bodily harm (vague, non-graphic); sexual content | feel free to message me with questions of detail if any of this concerns you before reading!

word count: 7.5k

blurb: in the most unlikely of settings, you and JJ reunite after five years apart in radio silence.

“You know, on my way here, I saw a dead rat.”

A cloud of cigarette smoke dispels into the air.

“It was funny, you know? Cause I felt bad that it was dead, even though it was a rat. I mean, I knew nobody was going to miss it, and that it didn’t have any rat family or friends which would mourn it or anything. But still…It looked like it had been hit by a car, and it was only small so it didn’t look very old, and it seemed so harmless lying there. It probably had a million and one diseases, but just laying there, it seemed harmless. And it felt weird to be sad about this thing dying which would have only maybe caused more damage if it had stayed alive – nibbling through electrical wires and all that.”

JJ takes another drag of his cigarette as he digests the anecdote.

“Anyway. This just made me think of that,” you quietly finish before sinking back into the silence.

“Did you just compare my dad’s funeral to a dead rat?”

You clear your throat. JJ watches in his peripheral as you look down at your feet and fidget your fingers.

“Shit, I guess I did.”

His eyes cut ahead the moment yours seem to flick up.

“Can’t believe that’s the first thing I’ve said to you in years.”

JJ inhales and exhales the nicotine of his cigarette. “Well, I can.”

That makes you laugh. Small and sheltered.

“I weren’t sure that you were going to come,” JJ tells you.

“Could say the same thing to you,” you reply.

Sighing, he drops the cigarette and crushes it under the heel of his boot. He probably should have worn smarter shoes. But then, why would he? Waste of money and space in his truck. Not like his dad was going to see them anyway.

“I only decided yesterday. Practically drove all night.” As if reminding himself of the sleep deprivation, JJ lets out a yawn.

“How is it, being back in Kildare?” you wonder.

JJ shrugs. “Weird. But also not weird at all. I guess I just feel old. I was driving through town and everything looks different.”

“I mean, it has been five years.”

“Jesus,” JJ chuckles, shaking his head. Had it really been that long?

He shoves his hands in his pant pockets and finally finds the nerve to take you in. His eyes scan over you like one might survey potential damage to a car after a close call. He never lets them go below your waist though. As if losing nerve, he flicks them back up to your head and meets your eyes.

“You look well.”

“Thanks. Right back at ya,” you smile.

With that smile – sweet and simple – JJ finds himself being hurled back through time to his teen years. The reminiscing of his youth and the memories that your presence stirs up feels like reflecting on a past life. Something that he almost had, and something that he didn’t exactly lose, but something that changed.

Everything had changed, really. The streets that he used to drive down with his friends, running away from security and darting to and from keggers and house parties, they all had new homes, new paint, new families. Old mom-and-pop shops were now trendy smoothie spots and hippie bars. Empty plots of land that were a good spot to share a joint had now been bought and developed into stylish holiday rentals. None of JJ’s family was left here, not even his cousin. None of his friends were here anymore either. Well, except for you. Is that what you were to him? A friend?

“It was a nice service,” you say.

“Was it?”

For someone like Luke Maybank, ‘nice’ is probably a generous term for a funeral service that’s void of cheery anecdotes and tender memories. It’s a shame that all the memories JJ held in high regard of his father – of the moments that they were bonded and close – often came with the overarching theme of alcohol or drugs. He wasn’t sure there was ever a genuine moment shared between the two. Whatever praise and pride he gathered from his dad was short lived and sparse. When his dad left the island on the boat he stole, JJ never heard from him again. And now he never would.

“Did they ask if you wanted to say anything?”

“What’s there to say? He was a guy and he died in a bender. Short and simple, I guess.”

You nod and go silent once more.

JJ knows that his answer evaded the politeness markers of small talk, but it was true. Luke Maybank was a human who lived on this earth with no mark to be left apart from those which he laid on his own child. The only way that he’d be remembered was in the nightmares that still sometimes have JJ waking up in cold sweats and reaching for the box of cigarettes by his bed.

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come,” you say.

“No, it’s not…” JJ shakes his head and offers you a smile, but he knows it looks unnatural. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling right now. Perhaps everything, if that’s even possible. “I’m glad you came. I’m just tired and…well, you know.”

The funeral of my father.

“Right. Of course.”

He watches you tuck your hair behind your ears and glance towards the graves. He remembers how you used to do that when you were both younger. It was funny to him: you’d go through the fuss of trying your hair back in one way or another, but you’d always leave out a couple of strands. “To frame my face” you’d tell him, and then you’d precede to spend the rest of the day tucking your hair behind your ears. He liked it though. When you’d be concentrating on something, like surfing or fixing something up or writing, you’d lean forward and they’d come lose and hang over your pretty features. He’d want to mess with them; tuck them behind your ears for you. Sometimes he did. He remembers when you’d be on top of him, kissing him senseless, and they’d come lose and tickle his face. Somehow it would make the whole thing more sensual, with his laughs and your giggles.

He feels his face flush as the memories of nights like those creep back into his head. He shouldn’t think of you like that, not after all this time. Not with how things turned out. And especially not at his father’s funeral.

JJ had come over to you once his father was safely tucked away in the ground, six feet under. You’d attended the service at the church, hiding near the back, and then the burial, and as everybody else departed to give JJ ‘a moment’ (whatever the hell that meant), he’d turned to find you stood near a bench, lost in thought.

“It was nice of you to come,” JJ thanks.

“I’m surprised none of the others are here.”

“They don’t know. I sort of kept it close to the chest,” JJ admits. “I’m actually impressed by the turnout.”

You go to laugh and JJ sees you stifle it. It helps him ease up, smile a real smile for a second, as wicked as that sounds.

“People have layers, I guess.”

“Not my dad.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

You meet his gaze again. Your eyes make it clear that you haven’t shed a tear and neither had JJ. He wasn’t sure if maybe that would come later, once the so-called shock had worn off. He doubted it though. And yet, there was a haze of sadness about him. Death is weird as a whole. The death of a parent like JJ’s, even weirder. Maybe it wasn’t just the funeral causing the sadness. Maybe it was you.

JJ makes a move to leave but before he can even shift his foot one whole step, you’re talking.

“Do you wanna come back to mine? We could catch up. I’m sure you’ve been doing all sorts since I last saw you. Maybe have a drink or two, for old times’ sake?”

“Oh, I don’t drink anymore.”

“Oh,” you say. A pause for thought, then, “well, I have orange juice.”

It’s a strange thing to offer in place of a bottle of beer or glass of wine. Most people would say a cup of coffee. But no - orange juice: that’s where your mind went. It makes JJ smile. It seems so on-par for you to offer him that.

“Okay. Sure. Orange juice sounds good.”

“Do you need a moment, before we leave?” you ask, glancing back over your shoulder to the gravesite of JJ’s deceased father.

The dirt atop of his plot is fresh and stark brown against the green grass. JJ stares a second. The groundkeeper is dusting some muck off the gravestone. The funeral director had offered him a fine granite with award winning chiselling, after recognising JJ from the articles of El Dorado and assuming some high-placed budget. JJ had opted for a simple thing though. Cheap and likely to be hard to read within half a decade. It’s what Luke deserved. Probably what he would have invested into JJ, if the roles were reversed.

“No, I don’t. We can go,” JJ says, voice vacant. He looks back to you. “I’ll drive.”

You don’t live in your childhood home anymore. The place that you’ve settled in is a small home in a sweet looking neighbourhood. In fact, it seems the only part of Kildare that feels familiar to JJ. The front garden is quaint but well kept, with trimmed grass and flower beds that clearly garner a lot of attention and care. The fence is in need of a lick of paint: the blue fading and peeling. A sticky note is attached to the door frame of the front door and it makes JJ smile. ‘Doorbell’s fucked – shout “ding dong” really loud’.

“This is a step up,” JJ says.

“Nice, right? My neighbour is a dick though. Always complaining that I leave my driveway light on in the middle of the night. As if I can even afford to that.”

JJ chuckles as he follows you inside. There’s an instant warm smell that hits him. JJ can’t seem to describe it in any other way than that it smells like you. The interior is safe and homely. The wallpaper and wooden floors pair nicely with the throw pillows and crystals and plants and flowers. Fairy lights are strung from end to end. A kitchen, open plan, feeds nicely into a sitting room. A dining table is tucked in the corner which seemingly functions more as a desk: books piled atop with sheets of paper strewn out. There’s a small corridor to the right and the walls are lined with framed pictures which JJ can’t make out from where he’s stood. He assumes it must lead to a bathroom and bedroom. It isn’t unlived in though. There’s a small pile of clothes which need ironing; they’re sat in a basket, next to the TV. Near the backdoor is an arts and crafts project of some kind strewn about on the floor in organised chaos, blocking the exit.

It's still early in the afternoon so you don’t bother flicking on a light, instead opting to soak in the last few hours of daylight before dusk. Kie used to compare you to a cat, basking in the sun and chasing the rays until there was none left to follow.

JJ closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“You can take your shoes off, if you want.”

“Alright,” he mumbles. He toes them off and kicks them to the side, amongst a pile of your own. He notices how there’s nobody else’s shoes there: just yours, and now his.

You pour out two glasses of orange juice and turn around, handing one to him. He takes it, lost in thought. It all feels surreal, stood here with you, after a five-year pause. When you go to the sofa to sit, he assumes he should follow. You sit on opposite ends. A part of him wonders why you haven’t stretched out your legs and dumped your feet in his lap. ‘These stink’, JJ jokes, poking your toes. You wiggle his fingers off. ‘Shut up, no they don’t.’ Force of habit: he always seems to get stuck on that past. Instead, you go to pull one of your legs up onto the sofa, and JJ flicks his eyes around the room another time. He sips his juice.

“So…” You start. “Any news?”

“Well, my dad died, so there’s that.”

You kick out your leg, aiming for his thigh. “Come on now. Be serious.”

“I am; you were at the funeral. Thought you might remember that,” JJ jokes.

Rolling your eyes mirthfully, you have a sip of your juice. The sun paints shapes on the coffee table, weaving through the thin curtains that line your window. It makes your skin glow, healthy and happy. He’s torn between staring at your face and remembering every detail of your features and avoiding you completely.

“When did you move in here? It’s nice.”

“About two years ago. Mom and dad are still at the old place. They’ve rented out my room though, for tourists and stuff.”

“That’s nice of them,” JJ snorts. “How’s your brother? Is he doing good?”

“He is. He’s at college actually. Graduates later this year.”

“The fuck? That’s so trippy,” JJ mumbles, almost to himself.

JJ can remember your brother as nothing more than a preteen, sulking around the house and begging for rides to soccer practice. Now he’s nearly got a whole ass degree. His eyes naturally fixate on the dining-table-come-desk in the corner.

“What do you do for work then?”

“I’m a teacher at Kildare high.”

Of course you are. JJ smiles, eyes still fixated on the table. It seems to prompt you to continue.

“It’s kinda weird sometimes cause some of the old farts still work there,” you say.

“Oh shit. Mr Rumble still there?” JJ asks, perking up a little, meeting your gaze.

You laugh. “Mr Rummel does still work there, yeah. Still likes to bring you up to me, actually.”

“Really? In what way?”

“Just likes to add the odd little ‘you remember when your boyfriend used to steal my stapler’ kinda things.”

JJ’s laugh is different this time. The word ‘boyfriend’ coming out of your mouth has his thoughts short circuiting. You glance down at your juice and swirl it around the cup.

“Anyway, it’s a pretty good gig. I like teaching, and I actually think I’m making a difference to some of these kids lives sometimes, which is sort of strange.”

“I bet you are. You were always good at helping people,” JJ tells you. Your smile turns soft.

“Thanks, JayJ.”

The nickname is like another sucker punch to the chest. JJ takes it like a champ. Washes it down with water; pretends there’s vodka in there somewhere.

“How are the others, then?” you ask. “How are they?”

“Good. Happy. John B and Sarah are expecting a kid soon.”

“Fuck off.”

“No joke,” JJ laughs. He leans back into the sofa, reclining in the soft throw pillows. It’s strange how easily relaxed he is in this new setting. “They’re debating between two names. Esmeralda or Eton.”

“No. Please God, tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish,” JJ snorts. “Not that I got much of a leg to stand on.”

“What do you mean?” you frown. You lean over and place your juice down on the coffee table.

“JJ? Kinda dumb name.” JJ has a sip of his own before mirroring your actions.

“Hardly. ‘John James’ is pretty proper sounding to me.”

“Meh.” JJ shrugs and props an arm up on the back of the sofa.

“What about Kie, and Pope?”

“Kie is on her environmentalist shit. Investing in rebuilding the coral and things. Pope is studying like crazy. Got a good job lined up too.”

“Only Pope would get a degree when he has literal gold in his savings,” you chuckle. “Didn’t you buy a shop too, or something?”

“A little surf shop with John B, yeah,” JJ nods, smiling proud. The surf shop is something that he would always take pride in. What felt like a pipedream was now his nine-to-five. “It’s doing real good, actually. We’re thinking about expanding.”

“Well, that’s good,” you say, nodding. The two of you lock eyes. Your smile holds steady. “I’m happy for you, JJ. Really.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you’re doing good, too.”

And now the polite small talk is over and the catch-up is done. It’s so bizarre seeing someone again after so long. So many things in life have passed – relationships, jobs, fights, conversations, achievements, ailments – but when you finally come to sum it up, it only takes ten minutes. Going through a heartbreak lasts for months, but then a year later and the relationship is summed up in a sentence or two. Time doesn’t only heal, but it also shrinks. It seems to have shrunk whatever used to exist between yourself and JJ too, as you both sit, searching for things to talk about which avoid the dark and ugly. Things which avoid the obvious.

“Do you think you’ll stick around in Kildare for a bit?”

“I don’t know. I ain't really thought about it,” JJ admits. “I weren't even sure if I was gonna go to the funeral.”

“Where are you staying tonight?” you wonder.

He laughs to himself and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I have no idea. Probably just crash in my truck.”

“You’re loaded as fuck and you’re gonna crash in your truck?” you laugh. It isn’t mean when you say it. Just amused.  

“I don’t know. You don’t really get used to having money when you grew up without it. I still feel guilty buying a new pair of boots or something when my old ones ain't coming apart at the soles and shit.”

You nod. “That makes sense. Eminem had a similar thing.”

“Yeah, I’ve always thought me and Eminem were similar,” JJ deadpans.

It seems to strike well with you because you’re cracking up, laughing like he’s just told the best joke you’ve ever heard. He smiles. He always liked making you laugh. You have a horrendous laugh: truly awful. Cats in a bag being bashed against the wall-howling dog parade level of terrible. JJ loved it though. He used to tickle you just to hear it. Watching you now, head titled back, eyes shut and mouth agape, guffawing like a damn hyena…He feels like throwing up.

“Sorry, that…That was good,” you chuckle, wiping your eyes and catching your breath. “You were always good at making me laugh.”

“Fuck knows why,” JJ chuckles.

“Cause you’re funny,” you reply, as if its obvious. “You were always funny.”

It’s strange how the tone of the conversation rises and falls like a mountain range the longer the two of you sit on the sofa.

Your smile turns sombre, like when someone reminisces over a funny memory of their dead pet. Nice at first, amused, and then dampened with the reminder that those times have passed.

“It’s weird, to be honest. You’re so different now but you’re also still JJ.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. You glance around the room for a moment, as if you’d find the answer hidden in code on the spine of the books stacked on the windowsill. You look at him again. “Your face looks different.”

“It does?” JJ asks. He lifts a hand and strokes his jaw. He could do with a shave, he supposes. The vanity tries to bite through to ask how, but before he can, you’re talking again.

“You don’t drink,” you add, nodding to the orange juice still sat on the coffee table. “You’re quieter. Less…”

You seem to lose the words and so you gesture with your hands. Explosion.

“Calmer. Sadder, but not sad.”

“I can’t tell if these are good things or not,” JJ says, half-joking.

“You look at me different too.”

That makes him pause. He meets your eyes and holds your gaze, steady. The whole room shifts in a moment, from carefree catch-up to tense confrontation.

“Different?”

“Yeah. You look at me different.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” JJ mutters, going to reach for his drink.

“Yes, you do, JJ.”

Your smile is gone now. He can tell, catching it from his peripheral. Suddenly he doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want to be in Kildare, doesn’t want to be in this house, in this room.

“You could at least acknowledge it, you know?”

“I don’t understand—”

“It’s actually more rude to not acknowledge it,” you snip.

“I’m not being rude, I’m just making conversation. You’re the one who’s got me on blast like you’re some God damn therapist,” JJ hits back, meeting your steely stare.

“You feel like you’re on blast?”

“I feel like I’m being observed, that’s for fucking sure.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe you are being observed, JJ,” you return, voice harsh and cutting like how a blade slices through paper. “Because it’s fucking weird having you back.”

“You’re the one that invited me here.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” you say.

JJ takes a breath and closes his eyes. The anger never went away, despite what you’ve just told him, he just got older. Got better at hiding it. Got enough money to try therapy. He takes another moment to breathe through it. Push it down his throat and back into his stomach and let it burn out in the acid.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly say. The venom is gone. “I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.”

He isn’t sure why – can’t pinpoint a perfect reason behind it – but behind his eyelids, JJ feels tears swell. Feels his lips twitch like a child when they hit their funny bone. His next breath in is shaky.

“JJ?”

“Just…”

His voice cracks and he clears it, shaking his head. He wants to open his eyes but he’s scared he’ll start crying, and he’s not doing that, not right now, not today. It’s not even you. You’d seen him cry before. Held him through it and patched him up; made him smile after the sadness. But he refuses to cry today because he can’t give his dad that satisfaction, even if it’s not about him. Opening his eyes, no tears escape. He reaches for the juice and downs it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he snaps. Then, softer, “please.”

You nod. There’s a quiet. Then, you move to stand and he closes his eyes again because it’s a struggle for you to stand. It’s a struggle. He rubs a hand over his mouth as if trying to shove the welling emotions back inside. There’s the sound of running water in the background as JJ tries to gather himself. The crack-crack-crack of a gas stove turning on and then the clink of metal on metal. You’ve put the kettle on, boiling water. There’s the tinker of porcelain mugs being taken off a stand. He seems to zone in on the peaceful sounds of you making coffee.

When you pour water into the mugs, he remembers the sound of your voice years back. ‘Did you know humans have the ability to hear the difference between hot and cold water being poured?’ ‘Why the fuck do you know that?’ ‘I don’t know. Just thought it was interesting.’

As the teaspoon repeatedly brushes against the inside of the cup as you stir in the instant coffee and milk, JJ finally feels all the emotions even out. As your footsteps make their way back over to him, you flick on the lamp by the front door. JJ opens his eyes to see you place a steaming cup of Joe in front of him on the coffee table. The mug is cute. It’s peach pink and says “I’m drinking tea instead of committing crimes” on the front in an innocent type-writer print.

“Cute mug.”

“Thanks. Thought of you.”

He silently laughs. You sit closer to him this time and your mug sits next to his. There’s no funny quote written across the paint. Then your hand is on his back, barely rubbing him, and it hits JJ that this is the first time you’ve touched him in five years.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry,” you tell him. “It ain’t my place to say any of that. Especially not today.”

“It’s true, though. That’s the kicker, ain’t it? That it’s true,” JJ replies.

He sighs and leans back, sitting upright once more. Your hand falls away and you clasp it in the other in your lap. He glances down and takes in your side profile. That stupid piece of hair has come lose again, fallen in your face. He distracts his twitching fingers by twisting one of his rings.

“I’m okay, you know,” you tell him. You look up and meet his eyes. Yours are damp with emotion, just like his were moments earlier. “I’m really okay.”

“You almost weren’t though.”

“Is that the problem? That I almost wasn’t?”

“It’s not the problem. You were never a problem.”

“I ain't mean it like that,” you tell him. You shake your head and JJ isn’t entirely sure why. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Am I the reason that you left Kildare?”

A bird calls outside and JJ seems to latch onto it like a lifeline. That question makes him feel stranded and scared. He wasn’t ready for it despite being fully prepared.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I…It ain't that simple.”

“Can you explain it to me, maybe?” you wonder. There’s no wrath to your tone anymore – no vendetta against him. There’s just curiosity and care, and this wonderful tenderness that JJ always associated with you from day one, when you offered him your cap to keep his hair off his face.

“I didn’t like the person I was in Kildare.”

“Okay,” you quietly say.

“I didn’t like how I acted. I didn’t like how reckless I was, and how I didn’t care who got hurt in the process.”

“Like me?”

JJ swallows. He doesn’t tear his eyes from yours though. “Yeah. Like you.”

“Okay,” you repeat, quieter still, nodding.

“After El Dorado, coming back here, everything felt tainted. I just…I needed to escape it. My dad and my past and…And you. I couldn’t face it. I felt like I’d caused some freak accident and had gotten away, and then I'd come back to face the aftermath and I just couldn’t stomach it. I just ran.”

You nod.

“I just ran,” he hears himself repeat. “And I’m not proud of it. Of any of it.”

“Okay.”

“And I wanted to fix things, but I didn’t know how. Every time I thought of coming back to Kildare, or picking up the phone, or going on Instagram and finding you…I just got so fucking scared, like a stupid shithead kid. I was so scared of becoming the guy I was again.”

And, again, you nod. When he doesn’t continue, you fill the space. “How long have you been sober?”

“The minute I left Kildare.”

“Fuck.”

“Cold turkey. It sucked ass. It still does. You don’t miss it any less. I miss the rage too, sometimes. I miss my dad sometimes, too. Miss him beating on me. How fucked up is that? That I miss him beating on me?”

You don’t seem to know what to say to that. You just look down at the coffee mugs and watch how the steam is slowly but surely going away.

“I am sorry. I know that ain't worth anything, but I am sorry.”

“It is worth something.” You clear your throat, voice coming out stronger when you say, “It’s worth everything.”

Your smile comes back, timid and tiny. You meet eyes for the millionth time that night.

“It feels like I’ve been ready for you to come back, for so long, and now you’re actually here and…I don’t even know where to start.” He watches your tongue dart out and wet your lips. “I wasn’t expecting you to look so good.”

“Disappointed?”

“Massively. I would have got my ass in the gym more if I knew it was a Goddamn competition.”

JJ smiles. “You were always a sore loser.”

“Says you,” you snort.

There’s another peak in the conversation after the long slug of the last dip. It’s so bizarre. So wonderfully bizarre.

“I’m proud of you, for getting sober. Do you feel better for it?”

“Depends.”

“Well, you look better for it,” you say.

“You’re drooling, I think,” JJ teases, reaching a finger out to prod your cheek.

Rolling your eyes, you mirthfully bat his hand away. “You’re hallucinating.”

“Well, withdrawal does crazy things,” he quips back.

You chuckle and shake your head. “I missed you like crazy.”

“I miss you too.”

Your lips part a little with that. Miss. You seem to hesitate to hold his gaze then, like it’s too intense. JJ feels as though he can see every emotion flash across your face in a second, like watching a car crash in slow motion. Surprise, shock, joy, anger, then sadness. It’s that sadness that hammers hard when you speak, voice weak.

“You left without saying anything, JJ. For five years. You just left me.”

“Don’t make it sound like that. Like I abandoned you.”

“But you did,” you whisper. The tears are back. You’ve both fallen from the top of the mountain. “You abandoned me.”

“You don’t get it,” JJ replies, voice suddenly thick.

“I was in it with you.”

“You didn’t see it,” JJ forces out. His tears are falling: they didn’t wait this time. “You didn’t see how it looked – how you looked. You looked so fucking fragile and tiny and small and your leg was so bent and twisted and black – it was black – and I thought you were already dead.”

Your breathing is shaky and broken. The two of you sit on your sofa in the sunset, eyes locked, tears streaming, chests heaving like you’ve run a marathon. The word ‘dead’ hangs in the air and haunts the room.

“I thought you were dead, and I thought it was because of me.”

“Do you hate me for it?”

“Why the fuck would I—”

“Because I didn’t die? Do you hate me for it?”

JJ blinks back his bewilderment. He physically shifts back in his seat, as if you just spat in his face. Horrified, he tells you, “Of course I don’t. Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because I’m still here, JJ. But you acted like I wasn’t for five years. You didn’t even come see me in the hospital. Didn’t sit with me in the ambulance. Hell, you can’t even look at my leg now! You think I didn’t notice? At the graveyard, and now. You think I can’t see it on your face?”

JJ whispers your name in a tearful plea. Stop.

“I’m still here, JJ. And I invited you back here, and I went to the funeral, because I wanted to see you.”

“To show me what I did?” JJ asks, harsher than needed.

You hold his gaze. “To show you I’m okay.”

He shakes his head, insistent. “It was my fault. If I hadn’t been drinking and if I’d been thinking straight, I would have never let you jump off the bike like that. It was fucking reckless and stupid and I would never, ever do it again. It was all my fault.”

“I don’t care who’s fault it was, JJ,” you whisper. Your hand reaches out and traces his cheek and jaw, and he can’t help but lean into your warm touch. There you sit, cradling his face as if he was the victim in this whole thing. It calms him almost immediately. “Nobody forced me on that bike. Nobody forced me to jump, not even you.”

“I shouldn’t have let you.”

“JJ,” you sigh.

He closes his eyes as you shift in your spot, and somehow you end up with your forehead pressed against his. He reaches out one of his hands for the other of yours that rests in your lap and he clenches it, tight. You’re both still crying but they’re silent tears now.

“I forgive you, JJ.”

He shakes his head whilst you nod.

“Yes, I do, I forgive you. I always have. You know why?”

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

“Because you were dealt the shitest hand I’ve ever known and look who you are. You’re sober, and you're healthy, and you have loving friends and a steady income and a job which you love, and a boathouse, and so much of your life left. And you didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t kill me, JJ. You didn’t even lose me.”

“I don’t—”

“We’re more than our mistakes.”

When JJ opens his eyes, you pull back enough to let him meet your gaze. As if you know what he’s about to ask, you smile. That smile…JJ feels like he’s coming home.

“You’re more than your mistakes, JJ.”

The moment his lips slot against yours, tentative and hesitant, like a bird exploring new ground for the first time, he’s home. There’s hardly a moment of reluctance, of confusion and mismatch from the time passed, before you’re kissing him back. The softness of your lips against his and the brush of your tongue. The sigh in your voice and the tilt of your head. It’s so seamless and sweet and safe. JJ feels safe here, with you. He feels like all the shit doesn’t matter. He feels like sober might actually be synonymous with happiness, with you. When he lies you down on the sofa, JJ doesn’t want to leave this room, this house, or Kildare. He wants to stay here, worshipping you, breathing you in until you consume all of his senses, because after five years, nothing has made him feel as alive as this. As you.

Everything is a wonderful illusion of being rushed and well-paced all at once. He revels in the way your skin gives gently beneath the scrape of his teeth. When he sucks at your throat, the skin is so delicate, and this close to you JJ can smell nothing but your perfume. He wants to fucking drown in it.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he pants. You’re gasping too. Fingers sliding through his hair, down his sides, along his face.

“I missed you,” you whine.

And that phrase gets repeated over and over like a mantra or a prayer. He hears himself whispering it against your skin with every button he undoes on your blouse. Basks in the sound of your voice, older and mature but still you, as you say it whilst pushing his dress shirt off his shoulder.

There’s a stalling pause when his fingers finish tracing down your stomach to your pants. You seem to notice it. Your hand comes to his face and thumbs at his cheek. They’re still sticky from dried tears.

“JJ,” you whisper, coaxing his attention back to your face. You’re glowing. You’re happy, you’re healthy, and you’re here. “It’s okay.” Nodding, you repeat. “It’s okay.”

Then, he watches your own fingers land on the button of your pants, slowly undoing it. Then the other and the third until they’re lose. He watches you wriggle out of them, pulling them down, struggling somewhat from the tight position on the sofa. Watches the scars emerge, faint but clear, and how they grow and spread like ivy on the side of a house. They merge with the cellulite and stretch marks. With a random bruise you must’ve gotten from hitting your leg on the table the other day. They’re a part of you – plain and simple. At the knee, there’s the connection for your prosthetic right leg. Once your trousers are off, JJ finds himself reaching out to touch it. This thing that he was partly responsible for, this marvel of medicine, the reason you can walk. He loves it and hates it desperately all at once. Glancing back up to your face, you’re watching him just as carefully as he was watching you. But you’re smiling.

“You’re okay,” JJ finds himself saying quietly. Because you are. You’re here, laying almost bare before him, just like you had years before.

“It’s rude to make a girl wait, JJ,” you tease.

With that, JJ’s smile is blossoming back like the returning of spring flowers following a brutal winter. He leans forward and catches himself above you with his arms, kissing you like you’re all the oxygen in the world. Your left leg rubs at his calf, still covered by his trousers, and you giggle against his mouth.

“Fuck, I missed this,” you say. “I missed you.”

“How much?”

“So much,” you say.

“Oh yeah? What’d you miss?” JJ persists, kissing down your neck.

“Your mouth,” you say through a moan. His hands slip behind your back and unclasp your bra. You arch your back enough for him to tug it off.

“My mouth?” he wonders, breathing it against your skin. You’re practically writhing. JJ laughs. “What about my mouth?”

“Don’t be a jackass, JJ,” you mutter.

“You want my mouth?”

“Yes,” you quietly beg.

“You do?” he checks, kissing over your breast, sucking at your nipple. “Where do you want it?”

“You fucking know where,” you sigh, impatience shining through.

He grins at the sudden hitch of your moan as he softly nips at the sensitive skin around your nipple. Then he’s kissing down your stomach until finally his fingers hook into the sides of your panties. He slowly, tauntingly, pulls them down. You kick them off at the ankles, a clear act of frustration, and he bites back his laugh.

“What? Here?” JJ plants a kiss to your hipbone. “You want my mouth here? Or…”

Another kiss, to your pelvic bone.

“Here?”

“Fuck you, Maybank.”

“You wanna?”

“I swear to fucking God,” you huff, laughing through the annoyance.

With that, JJ settles himself between your legs and praises you like you deserve to be. The noises you make are downright evil, considering he can do nothing about it and has to hold it together. You taste so familiar on his tongue.

“Fucking missed you,” he groans against you.

When he sucks on your clit, your hands latch into his hair. Your back is arching and you’re gasping and panting and desperate, and JJ feels like a young God. Pulling back, he slips a finger into your hole and it welcomes him so easily. He cusses at how wet you are.

“Come on baby. Come on, I know you’re close.”

The tells of your body haven’t changed since the last time you two were in this position. The way your mouth hangs open in a silent moan when you fall over the edge is so surreal to see after five years apart. He feels you spasms around him and basks in the scratch of your nails against his scalp as you try to ground yourself. He hardly has time to suck his fingers clean before your pulling his mouth to yours and kissing him stupid.

“Fucking missed you,” you repeat against his mouth, making him laugh. “Nobody fucks me as good as you.”

“Jesus Christ, you can’t say shit like that,” JJ chuckles. “Won’t last.”

“Don’t care,” you say. “Only thing bigger than your ego is your dick.”

JJ can’t help but laugh at that. He loves your giggles in response. And then your hands are shoving at his trousers and the humour is gone, replaced with nothing but raw lust and desperation. There’s nothing performative about it, when the two of you hurry to strip his clothes away as soon as possible. He takes note to get his socks off. You’d always had a weird thing about it, sex in socks, and nothing was going to taint this night. Not after so long.

Being inside you…JJ missed it more than all the alcohol and weed in the world. Nothing compared to the feeling of you clenching around him. The vice of your leg hitched up and over his back as he grips into your thigh, mean and firm, perfecting the angle. The senseless, endless whines falling from your agape mouth, eyes closed tight, lost in the feeling of it. JJ wants nothing to be less than perfect for you, for this. Every stroke, every kiss, every clench of his fingers…it all has to be perfect. He knows when you’re close and he’s more than fucking relieved. It’s taking everything in him not to come. He needs you to fall over the edge first.

“Do the thing,” you whine. “Do the thing, John.”

With that, JJ remembers five years back, to late nights and later mornings spent rolling in bed with you. He bites into his lip, holding back his shit-eating grin as the memories flood back, and he leans forward to your ear. Gently taking the lobe within his teeth, he croons into the shell of your ear.

“That’s my good fucking girl.”

And finally, you fall apart, taking JJ with you like you always would.

When the high finally passes and the endorphins settle down, the two of you are laying on the sofa, only covered by a throw blanket JJ had dragged down from the back of the sofa. You’ve somehow shuffled so you’re laying mostly atop of him. His arms are locked around your damp stomach like a vice, nose nestled into your hair, just behind your ear, breathing you in with every inhale.

“Will you stay in Kildare, just for a short while? For me?”

JJ wants to laugh but he knows how wrong that would be in this moment. The humour doesn’t come from the question, but from the notion that he’d leave after finally having you back in his life, safe and happy, after five long years.

“Anything,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your hair. Anything for you.

-

“You look like shit by the way,” JJ says.

His hands are warm in his cargo pant pockets. Head tilted down and gaze steady, he sighs.

“Guess you didn’t have chance to clean up though, right?”

Shockingly, the gravestone says nothing back. Well, says nothing asides form Luke Maybank in barely legible font.

It still feels surreal, that his dad is gone. That they’d never remedy anything, or even attempt to fix their relationship. That JJ wouldn’t be able to face him and show him what he’d become. How he’d risen past it all and grown from the pain and the agony. That he’d taken the shitty hand that he was dealt and turned it into nothing but flushes and full houses. That he hadn’t grown into a petty criminal or a tax-evading lowlife, but a strong, good-willed, well-intentioned man. The thought, bittersweet at heart, makes him smile.

“I’m happy dad. I know you probably hate that, being dead and all, but I am.”

As if on cue, there’s the high pitch giggles from afar that catch JJ’s attention. He glances over to spot you and your wonderful mini-you, sitting on your shoulders, waving at him. He waves back, small and short, smiling.

“I’m glad you never met her,” JJ tells his dad, never tearing his eyes away from the pair of you. You ease her off your shoulders and take her hand, pointing to a small bed of daffodils. “I was so scared I’d be bad at this. I was so scared that I’d be like you.”

She’s so fragile as she picks a flower free from the bunch, holding it by the stem, up to you. You nod and presumably smile in approval.

“But I’ll never be like you. She’ll never know what it feels like to live in fear,” JJ states, firmly. He looks back down to the grave. “I’m not your mistakes, and I’m not mine.”

He lowers to a squat and wipes some of the dirt off the stone, revealing the dates. “Happy birthday, dad. You suck, and I hope you’re finally at peace.”

“Daddy, daddy…”

There’s an insistent tug at his jacket sleeve. JJ smiles and looks down at the best mistake he ever made. Mistake is a strong word. ‘Oops, I think is better’, you’d said when you first showed him the pregnancy test.

“What’s up, bub?”

“I found this flower. Can I give it to papa?”

JJ takes the daffodil and glances to the grave. A brief moment of anger passes over him like the breeze of winter. He doesn’t deserve this. He isn’t your papa. I’m glad he’s dead. But he closes his eyes and breathes. Your hand squeezing gently at his shoulder tells him you’re there. It helps ground him.

“Yeah, bub. I think that’d be nice,” he smiles, handing it back.

She giggles as she puts it on the grass just before the stone. Her laughter is brighter and louder still when JJ scoops her up as he stands, looping her around him until she’s a backpack.

“You wanna get ice cream?”

“Hell yeah,” you whoop.

“Hell yeah!” mini-you copies. JJ laughs.

“Alrighty, lets go.”

As the three of you make the small walk back to the car, you intertwine your fingers with JJ’s, holding his hand tight and secure. JJ takes one last glance back at the gravestone. It all began here, in a way, the re-introduction to a life he thought he’d lost. Perhaps the nicest thing JJ’s dad ever did, the kindest act he ever performed, was dying. Perhaps that was his way of paying him back for all the crap he gave.

“Hey.”

JJ glances down at you.

“You okay?”

He smiles. Then, he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Everything is going to be okay.

[writingjjfics]

Pogues to the rescue!

Pairing: JJ Maybank x kook!reader, Platonic!Pogues x kook!reader

Summary: JJ and the Pogues come to rescue Y/n from her Kook family party.

Warnings: Kooks

Requested?: Yes! See request here!

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: Guess who's back? back again? It's moi! I apologize for how extremely long this took, life got in the way 🙂 also I did change the request a bit, and got some inspiration from the midsummers episode, hope that's okay! Oh and Sarah is not part of the Pogues for the sake of the story (not my gif)

The last few hours of your life have been a bore. You were stuck at this table with egocentric old kook people who could only talk about their 'perfect' lives and their well-succeeded grandchildren. You tried your best to show interest, but your mind kept drifting off. You nodded politely at them, and every so often, you mustered up a fake smile to make them think that you were listening to their boring stories.

When you noticed that their attention was no longer on you, which was hardly surprising considering how egocentric they all are, you quietly got up from the table and left. After quickly scanning the backyard in search of your mother, you, fortunately, spotted her in a conversation with her best friends. Taking advantage of the opportunity, you made your way inside the house to use the bathroom.

As you sat down on the toilet, you felt relieved. Not only because you could finally pee, but also after hours of miserably pretending to be anything close to a Kook, you could let your guard down here, even if it was just for a few minutes.

Taking your phone from your clutch, you check for any notifications that you might have missed in the last few hours. While scrolling through Instagram, you noticed your boyfriend had posted a video on his story. In the video, JJ was smoking his Juul, surrounded by the rest of the Pogues who were dancing and singing to some song in the background.

JJ's happy smile, as he hung out with the Pogues, made you feel a sense of joy for him. The Pogues are his true family and he deserves to be this happy and comfortable all the time. Sometimes you were jealous of their relationship. Even though your family has money and shows their love and care for you in their own, unique way, you've always felt like you don't quite fit in with them. It's as if you're the odd one out. At least the Pogues always have each other and their bond is unbreakable.

You snapped a quick selfie and sent it to JJ, showing him how extremely bored you were. After putting your phone back in your clutch bag, you let out a deep sigh, realizing you had to get back to the party before your mom would put up 'missing child' posters. However, as you reached for the door handle, you heard your ringtone go off. A picture you had taken of JJ at the beach during sunset a few weeks ago, filled your phone screen. A warm feeling spread through your chest as you answered the phone, grateful that he had taken the time to call you back.

"Party that bad, huh?", JJ chuckled as he spoke.

"If I have to listen to these fake people for a minute longer, I'll pull a van Gogh myself"

You could hear JJ snickering. "That's one way to answer that question"

"Can't you just hack into a system and send some emergency alert or something?", you whined.

"Honey, I'm definitely not as smart as Pope, but what I can do is try to sneak you away?"

"Tempting as that sounds, my mom would kill me"

"C'mon baby, we both know your mom loves her reputation too much to kill her daughter", JJ joked.

You rolled your eyes. "Very funny JJ, besides I don't want to be a burden to the rest of the Pogues."

You heard JJ scoff. Since knowing JJ, you've met the Pogues a few times, yet each meeting seemed to grow more awkward than the previous one. JJ always reassures you that the rest of the Pogues just have a hard time getting comfortable around the idea that he is dating a kook, or well just kooks in general, and that it's never because of your personality. "Before you know it, they will love you as much as I do", was what he told you occasionally. But you just can't help taking it personal.

"Y/n, stop being so stubborn, and let us help you. I want you here as much as you want to leave that party. Be ready in ten. I won't take no for an answer."

You were about to protest, but before you could, the distant chatter of the other Pogues in the background went silent, indicating that JJ had already ended the call.

After giving yourself a final look in the mirror and letting out another heavy breath, you opened the door and made your way back to the party outside.

Everyone was still engrossed in conversation, and it appeared that no one noticed you had been gone. It gives you a glimmer of hope that you might be able to slip away from the party without your parents noticing. However, at the same time, you can't help but recall a few years ago when you did the same thing, only to receive a month-long grounding from them.

After nervously looking ahead for a while, and making up different scenarios in your head, you suddenly feel a tap on your shoulder. Irritated, thinking it's one of your parents wanting to remind you to be more social, you turn around.

"You look like you could use another drink. Can I maybe offer you this one?"

In front of you stood JJ, dressed up as a waiter, holding a champagne glass. He gave you that annoying but charming smirk of his.

You took the champagne from him and chugged the entire drink, making JJ chuckle.

"Thanks, you always know exactly what I need babe"

You and JJ both laughed and you turned around looking for your parents. Your mother was still talking to her friends, while your father discussed work matters as usual.

"C'mon, let's go before my parents see us leaving". You were still nervous about the consequences, but decided that, that would be a problem for later. There's nothing you want more than to be with JJ right now.

JJ took your hand and quickly led you to the front of the house. Before reaching the gate, he suddenly stopped and gave you a kiss.

"Hi baby", he spoke softly.

You smiled. "Hi, Jay".

JJ gestured with his head towards the gate. "The others are right outside waiting for us." He squeezed your hand to reassure you that it was going to be okay. You nodded and followed him.

As you turned the corner, you saw the rest of the Pogues waiting next to the Twinkie. They were talking, but stopped abruptly when they saw the two of you approaching. Pope waved shyly towards you, while John B approached you enthusiastically. "That was quick"

"Yeah, I thought those kooks would give you more trouble", Kie said, rolling her eyes and emphasizing the words 'those kooks'. You saw Pope nudge Kiara. “Sorry, no offense to you of course”, she quickly realized her mistake. You smiled weakly and shrugged your shoulder. 'Well, luckily I don't see myself as a Kook'.

There was an awkward silence until JJ cleared his throat and walked over to the Twinkie to open the door. "Let's go back to the Chateau shall we?"

You got into the back of the Twinkie first, expecting JJ to follow you, but instead, it was Kie and Pope as John B and JJ got into the front seats having their own conversation. Kie sat beside you and turned toward you.

"Hey, I want to apologize if we ever made you feel unwelcome. We just had to get used to a new person in the group, but we see how happy you make JJ and that is the most important thing for us."

"Yeah, and you're real nice and fun to hang out with Y/n", Pope added.

You smiled, "Thanks, that means a lot to me."

"And I'm actually happy there is finally a girl in this group, I love these boys but I also really need some girl time", Kiara said making everyone laugh.

You locked eyes with JJ who was already smiling and gave you a wink. A few seconds later you heard your phone go off and saw that you received a text from JJ that said "I told you they were going to love you." You rolled your eyes at him, but chuckled nonetheless. You finally felt like you belonged there.

The rest of the night was spent hanging out at the Chateau, laughing, dancing, and getting to know the Pogues better.

As for your parents, you later found out that they had tried to call you many times that night, so you ended up being grounded again, but you really couldn't care less because JJ and the Pogues were helping you through it. They would always be there for you.

aaaah the end!! so so happy I finally finished a fic again. I was busy with my graduation project and had massive writers block, but I'm back! So if you have any requests or you just want to talk to me? LMK ❤️ Okay, love you byee x

[writingjjfics]

New fic tomorrow??

maybe 😅

[jiarkives]

julia’s favorites ! (ii)

♡ - fluff ; ♤ - angst ; ☆ - series

tokyo revengers

☆ masterlist - various characters

♡ little miss rule follower - ran haitani

↳ @ranhaitanisgf

♡ shark week - manjiro ‘mikey’ sano

↳ @fuyuluvr

♡♤ helping hand - manjiro ‘mikey’ sano

↳ @mynewblackdress

♡ blue boy - manjiro ‘mikey’ sano

↳ @airbendertendou

~

jujutsu kaisen

☆ to build a home - gojo satoru ft. fushiguro megumi

↳ @just-jordie-things

☆ big brother au - sukuna ryomen ft. itadori yuuji

↳ @mysicklove

♡ the trees told me about you - prince!gojo satoru

↳ @justauthoring

♡ isn’t it weird? how love never changes - itadori yuuji

↳ @tteokdoroki

♤♡ i said “i love you” - gojo satoru

↳ @reinainaric

♡♤ in their loving hands - gojo satoru, geto suguru (poly!)

♤♡ raspberry leaves - gojo satoru, geto suguru (poly!)

↳ @sunmoonjune

♡ sensei’s wife - gojo satoru

↳ @seonghrtz

♡ smack, smack - gojo satoru

↳ @tender-rosiey

~

criminal minds

☆ masterlist - spencer reid, aaron hotchner, derek morgan

♤♡ finally - derek morgan

♤ 4 months - aaron hotchner

♤♡ anything for you - spencer reid

↳ @the-bau-quinjet

♤ the archer - spencer reid

♡♤ brilliance - spencer reid

♤ buried alive - spencer reid

↳ @pathologicalreid

♡ untitled - spencer reid

↳ @ddejavvu

♤ heartbeat - spencer reid

↳ @theonewiththefanfics

~

attack on titan

☆ left behind - levi ackerman

↳ @zbeez-outlet

♡ he was not meant to hear that - levi ackerman

↳ @babypinkhearts

~

marauders / harry potter

♡ untitled - remus lupin, james potter, sirius black (poly!)

↳ @moonstruckme

♤ someone take me home - harry potter

↳ @heliads

♡ end up here - theodore nott

↳ @priniya

~

marvel

☆ family is more than blood - carol danvers ft. natasha romanoff, yelena belova

↳ @arlana-likes-to-write

☆ masterlist - bucky barnes, steve rogers, peter parker, natasha romanoff, tony stark

♤♡ mistakes forgiven - steve rogers

♤ letters - steve rogers

♤♡ lily - steve rogers

♤ 23 - bucky barnes

↳ @the-bau-quinjet

♡ a slip of the tongue - bucky barnes

↳ @antiquarianfics

♤ i’ll see you when i fall asleep - peter parker

↳ @waitimcomingtoo

~

outer banks

☆ masterlist - jj maybank, rafe cameron, john b routledge

♡ what did you call her? - rafe cameron

↳ @winchester-books

♡ t-ball - rafe cameron

↳ @rafeandonlyrafe

♡ whipped - rafe cameron

↳ @mrsstarkey1

♡♤ more than a hookup - jj maybank

↳ @writingjjfics

~

top gun / top gun: maverick

♤ who did this to you? - jake ‘hangman’ seresin

↳ @justfandomwritings

♡♤ “whiskey sour? classy.” - bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw

↳ @undiscovered-horizon

[writingjjfics]

thank you for including me! ❤️

[princessbrunette]

okok line cook jj who is absolutely obsessed with the new doe eyed pretty smile waitress. she’s always so nice and patient with the crew even if they’re behind, getting yelled at ect. they flirt and she always gets all blushy and shy, and he just loves it. one day she ends up in the kitchen teary eyed and covered in coffee from an angry customer and jj just looses his shit cause his girl is obviously upset and even possibly hurt and how dare they.

this anon had my tummy hurting and everything like omg i love it sm .

he’d fall for you as soon as he’d lay eyes on you.

jj definitely didn’t have a type and his track history was living proof— however, with all the girls he’d hooked up with in the past they tended to be a little on the sassier side, confident, bites back and can handle the loud mouth that belongs to none other than the man himself— but he’d never felt deeply for any of them, happy to part ways with them when the fun was all over. you however, you were something else entirely.

it was like watching a baby deer trying to learn how to walk when you were brought into the restaurant as the new waitress hire. clearly you’d had no idea just how busy the beachside restaurant got, but you’d tried to adapt quickly. for the first few weeks you were skittish, dropping the occasional plate, tripping over extended legs from tables and forgetting a couple of orders — but surely enough the customers took a liking to you anyway. of course they did, you were adorable, polite, pretty and young — you could have set the place on fire and your manager would probably have let you off with a slap on the wrist.

jj was dead set on getting to know you, hell— he’d even consider himself your guide, befriending you and helping you out whenever he could. he’d have your order ready first everytime, greeting you with a wink that flustered you as he’d carefully hand you the plate and watch you shuffle off to find the corresponding table. he’d gently manoeuvre you out the way with hands on your hips when he needs to get behind you in the busy kitchen on chaotic shifts, smirking to himself at the way you get all doe eyed and embarrassed whenever he did it. it never took much to fluster you, and your sweetness had apparently been just what JJ had craved.

he noticed you started to come to him for everything, and it made his heart swell with pride. toeing nervously into the kitchen during a quieter shift, not many of the staff around that evening. “excuse me, jj?” he remembers your polite voice calling from behind him as he chops some bell peppers. he’s wiping his hands on his apron as he glances over his shoulder at you before turning around fully, giving you his full attention.

“yeah?” he breathes, almost silenced by how pretty you are.

“sorry to disturb you but theres some guys arguing really loud in the restaurant and i think they’re gonna fight and the security guy isn’t in today… dont really know what to do…” you shrug, clammy hands subconsciously playing with your work uniform. he could tell whatever had happened out there has made you uncomfortable, not a fan of confrontation or big scary men yelling. he’s quick to nod, tossing the dish-cloth he was about to wipe the surface with over his shoulder and placing a hand on your arm, looking down at you reassuringly.

“hey, you’re good, i’ll handle it, yeah?” he nods, brushing past you briskly and out the kitchen doors into the restaurant. it was night time, so the restaurant overlooking the beach only had a few customers dotted around eating their meals, equally disturbed by the loud quarrel the two seemingly tipsy men were having. you follow him to the door, watching him saunter out toward them without a care in the world. you liked that about jj, he wasn’t scared of nothing.

“alright ladies, pack it up. go kiss n’make up somewhere else, bein’ waaay too loud and i don’t think these people paid for dinner and a show.” he waves them off, the two men standing at their table having their argument.

“stay outta this kid, i ain’t going nowhere ‘til he gives me what he owes me!” one of them barks back, slamming his fist down on the table making you jump as the cutlery clatters. JJ doesn’t flinch in the slightest, stepping up closer.

“yeah, i wasn’t asking. you’re disturbing my waitress and quite frankly you’re pissing me off, so again, i’m gonna have to ask you to leave.” you pushed down the way ‘my waitress’ made you feel, knowing he was likely just throwing it out there without meaning.

“you think i give a fuck ‘bout how ‘ya waitress feels? we’re doing business here. why don’t you go back to the kitchen, huh?” the other man waves him off, and you see his eyes flutter in irritation a little at the mention of you. he locks his eyes on the man, oddly calm and steps closer, staring him down.

“i’m not askin’ again. leave.” JJ warns.

“or what, blondie?”

“or I beat the shit out of you and your little friend.”

you were happy your manager wasn’t in that evening, because JJ would have gotten in lots of trouble. like that one day, a few weeks later during an afternoon shift, patrons from the nearby golf course having swarmed in for their lunch. JJ had been chatting away with another cook in the kitchen at his post, laughing and swatting eachother with the dish rags when the doors swung open, making him double take when he’d clocked on that it was you. your eyes didn’t find his with a bright smile and fluttery eyelashes like they always did, in fact you didn’t look at him at all. upon further inspection, your uniform was drenched with brown liquid, assumably coffee even dripping from the ends of your hair. your bottom lip wobbled as you headed toward the cloakroom through the back.

JJ’s smile fell off his face and he chased after you, skidding to a stop infront of you as he places both hands on your shoulders.

“hey, hey what happened out there?” he speaks gently, gentler than you hear him speak with the other cooks anyway.

“some guys coffee was cold, so— so he dumped it on me. i’ll be fine, just— just need to change my clothes and go and clean up the mess out there and—” youre wiping your tears off your cheeks, mortified, and when you open your eyes again JJ’s no longer right there, the only sign of his existence being the sight of the kitchen door swinging. you curiously follow, standing in the doorway like you did last time. his eyes had scanned the room, quickly honing in on the older, sweaty Kook in an ugly polo loudly complaining about the ‘help’ with a puddle of coffee beside his table.

he didn’t think, striding over, lips pressed in a firm line. he grabs the man by his collar and yanks him with such a force out of his seat that his chair tips back and falls, skidding along the polished wooden floor. gasps ring around the restaurant, an imaginary spotlight shining on the blonde as he grips the man with white knuckles, looking down his nose at the flailing Kook struggling to get his footing.

“you think it’s okay to humiliate my waitress, huh? you think that shits all sweet? someone oughta teach you—” he’s hissing between grit teeth with a trembling voice when the security guard runs over to tear him off.

“maybank.” the officer warns with a knowing tone and JJ lets the man go, not without shoving him back by the chest first, a spiteful, quick adrenaline fuelled laugh leaving him as he did so.

“yeah, nah, we’re all good. get this asshat out of here though.” he backs off, letting the guard escort the shaken man away to the exit, probably profusely apologising on JJ’s behalf. he pants, watching him leave before looking around at the entire restaurants eyes on him, staring in shock. he scratches his cheek before holding up his hand. “hope y’all are enjoying the food.” he calls out, making eye contact with your manager who stands leaning against the bar with her arms crossed, shaking her head at him. he swears under his breath, before storming back toward the kitchen, not even glancing at you as he storms past you, knowing he’s in trouble.

he heads towards the staff cloakroom, yanking his apron off and beginning to punch the code into his locker, clearly deciding the best way to deal with this was to take off. you follow him, standing in the doorway.

“jj, you shouldn’t have done that.” you scold him softly, watching him screw up his apron and stuff it into his locker, rooting around for his stuff.

“yeah, well i did, so…” he doesn’t turn to acknowledge you, still out of breath with a noncommittal tone.

“you’re… you’re gonna get in trouble. i don’t want you to get fired.”

he suddenly turns to you when you approach at his side. “you think i want that either?” he snaps before softening, seeing the way your eyes widened in hurt confusion. “i’m sorry. i… i just don’t like how these assholes get to roam around and do what they want. they can direct all that shit towards me, i don’t care, i can take it…” he takes off his backwards hat, raking his hands through his hair. “but… but not you! they don’t get to talk to you like that. someone’s gotta show them, you know?” he rants and you soften, stepping closer.

“thank you.” is all you say, pressing your hands to his shoulders and standing on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek. you offer him a small smile, before turning around and heading back toward the door. you turn before you leave, his body still twisted towards you as he watches you in awe, suddenly a lot calmer. “no one’s made me feel safe like you do, jj.” you state before heading away.

he sighs, turning back toward his locker and leaning his forehead against the cool metal, screwing his eyes shut for a moment just breathing. when he turns back around, you’re gone, replaced by the disapproving glare of your manager.

“you wanna talk about what just happened?” she tilts her head.

“well, no— but i feel like i don’t really have a choice.” he forces a fake smile. it was gonna be a long day for jj.

[featherandferns]

hurricanes (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | angst central

content warning: mentions of drinking and drug use; mentions of sex; arguments and fights; unhealthy relationship

word count: 7k.

blurb: for so many of your memories, bad and good, it feels as if hurricanes are at the forefront. One night, during the midst of a storm, JJ comes to your house, seemingly to bring you one last memory of him.

You hate hurricanes.

They’re unruly and unpredictable; thrashing and destroying anything in their path. Chaos incarnated.

From inside your house, the windows rattle from a vicious blow of wind. Sighing, you leave the comfort of your bedroom to go to the kitchen. There’s no chance you’re getting to sleep anyway. Better brew a pot of coffee and maybe get some homework done throughout the night. As you stand over the machine, waiting for it to brew, you look out the window. It’s dark. Rain is splattered across the glass, droplets chasing after one another in an undisclosed race. You manage to make out your reflection. Bags under your eyes. Clothes hanging sadly on your body. Only recently had you managed to start eating well again, putting on weight and getting through more than one meal a day. So, knowing the effort that you’ve been making, you manage a smile.

The t-shirt you’re wearing is one of your favourites. It holds memories: the fit of laugher that had you in tears one night at a bonfire; the day you got your first A on an exam; a date with JJ. Your finger comes to tease at the collar, fingering the fabric, your smile growing from the memories. It felt nice to finally reminisce about your ex-boyfriend without wanting to crumble. Without the thought feeling like someone was twisting the knife that had yet to be eased out of your chest.

The coffee machine stops buzzing. You look down, coming back to yourself, and pour yourself a cup of coffee from the glass mug. Moving to sit on the sitting room sofa, reaching for the remote, you decide to try and distract yourself with a show. Your parents aren’t home and brother’s at college, granting an empty, quiet house. As you flick through the options on Netflix, you hesitate on one. Narcos. JJ loved that series. Had you watch some of the episodes with him – explaining the characters’ motives and filling in the plot-points from whatever you’d missed. A part of you deliberates watching it and letting yourself slip into some fantasy that JJ is sat by your side on the sofa, his hand comfortably on your knee, eyes glued to the screen. But you don’t. There’re new shows to watch, so why go back on the old? Settling on some Netflix-own drama, you sigh and have a sip of your coffee.

“No way, John B actually thinks he’s found the Royal Merchant,” you snort.

JJ shrugs. “That’s what he says.”

“Where?”

“At the bottom of the ocean,” JJ replies.

“No doy, idiot. I mean where abouts at the bottom of the ocean?” You chuckle, rolling your eyes.

“Oh! Somewhere off the continental drift,” JJ tells you.

He’s opened a bottle of beer for you and is passing it over. The two of you are lounging on your dad’s fishing boat, taking advantage of the nice weather.

“Bullshit,” you say, taking a swig.

“I’m telling you; he’s found it. The stuff in that motel room safe was fucking insane. The cops just pocketing the cash, too?”

“Cops are dirty: shock horror,” you sarcastically return.

JJ laughs with a nod. Then, smiling at you, he says, "well, all I know is when we find the Merchant-”

“-If-”

“When!” he corrects loudly, making you laugh. Then he’s shuffling up so he’s sat right next to you, hooking an arm comfortably around your waist. “When we find it, I’m using my share of gold to spoil my girl rotten.”

“Oh?” You prompt, raising a brow at him with a grin. He nods down at you.

“Mhm. I’m talking fancy dinners and expensive jewellery and that perfume you always check out whenever we’re at the mall but never buy.”

“It’s overpriced,” you brush off, rolling your eyes.

“It’d smell perfect on you,” JJ affirms. Makes your cheeks go warm.

Nudging him with your elbow, the bone digging softly into the flesh of his abs, you say, “well, I guess I could get on board with that then.”

“Just you wait until we find it,” JJ promises, raising his bottle in a silent toast.

Rolling your eyes lovingly at his ways, you lift yours to clink the neck of your bottle against his. JJ leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, sweet and summer-filled, with the lingering taste of beer. You gladly kiss him back, sinking into the familiar feel of your boyfriend. This is going to be the best summer yet.

About ten minutes into the second episode, you think you hear a knock at the door. No; it’ll be a branch having blown away in the breeze. Sighing, you go back to the show, coffee nearly finished and luke-warm. Then, it comes again. Two short raps. Pausing the show, you turn and frown at the door. You can see it from the sofa. There’s a pause, maybe a minute, and then three knocks. You get up and make your way to the door, deliberating who in the hell could be coming to your house in the middle of a hurricane at (you glance to the clock on the hallway as you go) ten to midnight?

As you undo the latch on the door and twist the key to unlock it, you feel your gut twist. It’s as if it knows something you don’t. Then, pulling the door open, wincing against the cold and the wind and the rain from outside as it fights its way in, you come face to face with JJ. The sight of him makes you colder than the weather ever could.

“JJ?”

“Can I come in?”

“Wh—”

Your voice trials off, throat running dry, and you glance back into the house for some reason, as if the coat-stand might have the answers. Looking back to him, brain muddled, you see how he’s leaning against the wall of the entryway. How he’s holding his flask in his hand, the lid unscrewed, and you close your eyes with a sigh.

The rational part of you screams to close the door on him. Do the right thing, the hard thing, and turn him away as if you have barely acknowledged him being there. But it’s not that simple. Nothing is, the moment any sort of feeling has been involved, and you find yourself looking into his red-rimmed eyes. You’re not sure if he’s high or he’s been crying.

“Please,” he says, voice quiet as if defeated. “I just wanna talk.”

He’s dripping from head to toe, drenched from the rain. Hair sticking to his forehead, leaking water down the back of his neck. Hands shaking from the cold and the booze. Wordlessly, you open the door fully and step to the side, making space for him to walk in. After he catches on and enters, you catch a whiff of his cologne. Musky yet fresh; so wonderfully him. It makes one of the scabbed cuts on your heart crack open. Closing the door, fighting to keep in the warmth, you sigh and face JJ. He’s standing there awkwardly, unsure of where you want him to go. He’s barely able to keep his balance right, fumbling from leaning his weight on one leg to the other.

You gesture to the kitchen. “Go sit down. I’m gonna grab you a towel.”

JJ nods and does as you say, heading into the kitchen. You try not to spiral in your thoughts as you go to the boiler closet, fishing out a fresh bath towel. There’s only one thought that you can’t seem to silence. What is he doing here?

A part of you still feels as though you can hear the wind of the storm beating against the thin walls of the police tent. The sirens and the chatter and the panic. The chaos of trying to help John B and Sarah escape, and the never-ending torture of waiting for any news. That they escaped. That they were caught. That they were even alive.

That was a week ago now.

JJ’s not answering his phone. You haven’t been sleeping well. Your nights are nothing but restless, nightmares plaguing you about all the ‘what ifs’ and the guilt of waving them off in the boat, practically sending them off to their grave. It’s a lot for a seventeen-year-old to burden. Your parents tried their best to help you. They brought you breakfast the first morning that you stayed back at your house (they’d let you crash at the Chateau with the others for a couple of days at first, understanding that all your friends needed one another at that time), and never forced you to come down for dinner. Wallowing felt about the best you could do. You just wished it wasn’t so lonely.

Sighing, ending the call that never stopped ringing, you glance over to your trainers. Since coming back from the Chateau, you haven’t left your house once. Hell, you’d barely left your bed. Then you’re staring at your phone again. At the string of missed calls and ignored texts from JJ. You knew him well and knew how easily he could slip when things changed for the worse. John B was like a brother to JJ. Their bond was so close that it sometimes challenged your own and JJ’s, though never in a malicious way.

Getting up, you put on your trainers and lace them up. You had to check that JJ’s okay.

The air feels fresh on your skin, like a plant gulping down water after days in a drought. You bask in the rays of sun that push through the cloudy overhead. Walking to JJ’s was familiar and quick. Soon enough, you’re trudging up his front lawn and walking around to his window. He’d always told you to come in via there. You never knew where his dad was and what state he might be in, but the odds were low on his being passed out in JJ’s room. The windows always unlocked and you force it up and open with a grunt. Then, you’re climbing on JJ’s desk and glancing around his room. He’s not in there.

What is in there is countless empty beer cans and bottles. The useless ends of joints and cigarettes. It smells musty and sad, like nobody had cracked a window in days. You sigh and kick some stuff out of the way (used clothing and trash) so you can reach his bedroom door. Gently easing it open, you glance into the hallway and through to the sitting room. On the coffee table, you can make out the toes of JJ’s boots. Taking your chances that his dad isn’t home, you walk down the hall to the sitting room.

JJ’s passed out on the sofa. His head is leant back, mouth parted in silent snores, and in his hand is an empty beer bottle. The sitting room is just as bad as his bedroom, maybe even worse. It stinks of weed and alcohol and mould. Everything about all of it terrifies you. You didn’t think he’d sunk this low, so fast. Why hadn’t he reached out to you?

He gets an email and his phone pings, making you glance to it. It’s on the coffee table. There on the home screen are the several missed call notifications and ignored texts from you. If it were any other situation, you’d label yourself as psycho. But you knew something was wrong. Could feel it in your gut.

“JJ,” you say. Clearing your throat, louder, you repeat, “JJ.”

He doesn’t stir.

You reach out a hand to shake his boot.

“JJ, wake up.”

Nothing.

Sighing, you walk around so you’re stood at his side and lean down to shake his shoulders gently, hoping to ease him awake.

“Wake up, JJ.”

He jolts awake with a gasp, eyes flying open. His hands come to your forearms in a tight grip, reflexively, and you try to pull away. The moment he registers it’s you, he let’s go. He mumbles your name, voice still thick with sleep.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to check on you.”

JJ frowns. He rubs at his face and pushes some of his uncombed hair back. His breath smells like stale liquor; it half makes you want to cringe.

“Why?”

“Because I’m worried about you. And, I guess I was right,” you say, looking to the pandemonium of the room.

JJ gets to his feet and shakes his head. He’s walking towards the kitchen and you follow.

“You didn’t need to, alright? I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, JJ,” you tell him.

He pulls open the fridge. His back is to you. The shirt he wears looks creased and well-worn, as if he hadn’t taken it off for days. It reminds you of everything that happened and just how raw the wounds must be for JJ. How much deeper they are, too. 

“Look, I know this is hard for you,” you tell him gently.

JJ grabs a beer and closes the fridge. Cracking open the can, he turns and rests his back against it, taking a swig. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not ‘fine’, JJ,” you say.

JJ shrugs and has another gulp.

“Why didn’t you talk to me?” you ask. Gesturing to him, you add, “you look like you haven’t slept in days, JJ.”

“What’re you gonna do? Sing me to sleep?” he snorts. He’s drunk.

“That’s not the point, JayJ. My parents would’ve let you stay over. I don’t like the thought of you here by yourself.”

“I’m not something that needs fixing, alright? I can take care of myself,” JJ tells you, his voice becoming tighter.

“I’m not saying you need fixing—”

“Are you sure? Cause it sounds like you’re pitying me pretty bad right now,” JJ cuts in. His eyes are narrowed at you as if accusing you of some conspiracy.

Trying to remind yourself of the abundance of emotions he must be feeling right now, alongside the fact that he’s drunk and possibly high, you do your best to keep your calm.

“Of course I’m pitying you, JJ. In the way that a girlfriend would pity her boyfriend who’s dealing with some fucking awful loss,” you tell him.

“He’s not dead, alright? Don’t talk about him like he is,” JJ bitterly mumbles, looking down at his boots.

“We don’t know that, JJ—”

“Well, you don’t know that he is dead, alright? So stop talking about it like you want it to be true!” he explodes. He stalks towards you, angry. “Do you want him to be dead, huh? So you have a little project to work on? So you can come visit your scum of a boyfriend and do your charity work, to make yourself feel better. To distract you from your own shitty insecurities?”

“Why are you saying this, JJ?” you whisper, taken aback. He’s never spoken to you like this. Ever. Not even when the two of you argue. In truth, you don’t argue. Merely bicker, with it all resolved within the day. Nothing malicious and intentional, with words sharpened to cut. The way he’s looking at you right now – as he stands over you, shoulders rigid as if preparing for a scrap – is terrifyingly unfamiliar.

“I don’t want you here, okay? I didn’t ask for you to come here.”

“You want me to leave then?”

“Yeah, I do, actually.”

“You do?”

“Yes. That’s what I fucking said,” JJ seethes. You find yourself pushing back, getting in his face just as much.

“Fine. Drink yourself fucking blind for all I care,” you spit back.

It’s only been a week, and already a chip has been chiselled into the sculpture that was your relationship. The first crack in the mausoleum.

JJ’s sat at the round kitchen table, shivering like an orphan, and you have to keep yourself from instinctively wrapping the towel around his shoulders. Instead, you place it in front of him. He’s put the flask away, it seems.

“Thanks,” JJ mumbles, taking it.

As he rubs his hair dry, you head to the coffee machine. He needs to sober up and you’d found that coffee always worked for him. Hell, you could do with another cup too, perhaps just to keep your hands busy.

“It’s crazy out there,” JJ eventually says, hesitant to start a conversation. You close your eyes at the sound of his voice. “Brian’s throwing a tantrum.”

You’re half-tuned in, mostly lost in the droning of the coffee machine as it brews. You look down at your hands to find that you’ve been messing with the skin around your nails. It was a nervous habit you had, and one that hadn’t shone through in a couple of months. Not since you and JJ had ended things.

The coffee is done all too soon. Pouring two mugs worth, you brace yourself as if preparing for a slap as you turn to face JJ at the table. His hair is now damp, no longer dripping down his face. Wet clothes are still stuck to his skin, outlining the perfection of his body, and you have to force your eyes away. It’s hard to think that only two months ago you would be blessed enough to be able to run your hands under his shirt, along the smooth, salt-scrubbed skin of his stomach. What once brought you pleasure in thought now only brought pain.

Taking the seat opposite him, you slide his mug over and take a shaking sip of your own. Your eyes are down, focused on the table-top, tracing the scratch marks in the wood, but you somehow know JJ’s watching you. Can feel his eyes following you.

“Thanks for letting me in.”

“You said you wanted to talk,” you reply.

JJ nods: you catch it in your peripheral. “I do.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Us,” JJ says. You close your eyes. You were worried he’d say that.

“There’s nothing for us to talk about, JJ. There isn’t an ‘us’, anymore, okay?” you sigh. JJ’s already shaking his head.

“There is. You know there is,” he returns in a pleading tone. “Things can go back to how they were again.”

“What?” you almost whisper, brows furrowing in confusion.

“John B and Sarah are back now and…And everything can go back to how it was,” JJ tells you, almost hopeful.

You shake your head, lips pressed in a deep frown. Your fingers press against the hot porcelain of the mug.

“JJ. That’s not how this works.”

“I know things got messed up. That it’s my fault that they did, alright? That everything got messed up after John B…”

Died.

Your eyes dart up to meet his. There’re fresh tears gathering in the waterline. It’s weird seeing JJ cry so openly. He only did it once or twice in your relationship, in front of you. He never seemed willing to let you see that side of him, as if it might make him weak. You notice how his hand twitches away from the mug, as if he might reach out for yours, but something in him decides not to. Instead, the two of you keep your distance; a formal width of space, sat on either side of the table, not daring to cross into the others’.

“We can go back to how we were,” JJ privately says.

Your purse your lips, eyes slipping shut a moment to gather your thoughts. Perhaps this is how Eve felt, when the serpent tried to tempt her with the fruit. Here sits the only guy you’ve ever loved, extending an invitation back into the past, of a time when you were happy, and breathing didn’t hurt, and the thought of romance wasn’t something you shunned. But you can’t go back to the past. Time is forever moving forward, continuous and unchanging, and the sooner you make peace with that, the sooner it can start to heal your wounds.

You never spoke about that first fight. Never acknowledged it, really. JJ just showed up at your house, a couple days later, seemingly sober, and you both decided to move forward. You brushed it under the rug as a slip-up. That he needed to reel out of control a little in order to let himself recover, like the way the earth needs a good thunderstorm during summer to replenish the plants. I mean, how were you to know that it was the beginning of the end?

It was the day after you'd made the memorial at the chateau. Yourself and JJ had slept over at the house, after making love on the pull-out. The moment his hands were on your body, it felt like a silent apology for the fight, and you'd let yourself forget all about it. Waking up tangled in his hold, legs a knotted mess and arm tingling with pins-and-needles from his weight, you can't help but smile. It was the nearest thing to normalcy you'd felt in a long time, since Sarah and John B went missing at sea.

"Morning," you mumble sleepily the moment you feel JJ stir. He presses a kiss to your forehead. His skin smells of dry sweat.

"Hey," JJ rasps.

"You want breakfast?"

"What's on the menu?"

You can hear the smirk in his voice, the teasing grin to his words, and it makes you chuckle tiredly. This was the JJ you missed. As one of his hands moves to grope at your ass, you're laughing, gently pushing him off you.

"Perv," you mutter as you get up. Steal his t-shirt from the floor and pull it on.

You trudge to the kitchen, shoving your messed up hair out of your face, and open the cupboards to search for something good. There's no point looking in the fridge; majority of the things in there will be spoiled. This is the first time any of you have been back at the chateau since a couple of days after the incident.

Grabbing a can of soup, you decide it's better than nothing (though far from a classic breakfast). The drawers and counters are a mess. You sigh as you search for a can opener, coming up empty.

"You got your pocket knife with you?" you ask JJ.

He's lounging on the pull-out, scrolling through his phone. The only thing keeping him decent is the blanket that's half-arsedly flung over his waist. You missed seeing him like this, and the sight has you smiling.

"Should be in the left pocket of my shorts," he mumbles in reply, absentmindedly.

You wander over and drop to a squat, digging through his cargo shorts. Nothing, nothing...Your fingers feel something plastic and tactile. Frowning, you pull it out. It's a small plastic baggy containing a white powder. You're not stupid. It's either coke or ketamine. Your frown seems to deepen. Standing up, you hold it up.

"What's this?"

JJ looks up. Spots the bag. Takes in your expression. "Nothing."

"JJ," you say, tone nothing short of serious.

He sighs and rubs at his face, as if finding an excuse to avoid eye contact. "Look, it's fine, alright? I just need a little pick me up, now and then."

"This isn't a pick-me-up, JJ," you say. You know you sound angry, but why shouldn't you be? JJ having an addictive personality was no secret to anyone. His drinking was bad enough. Adding drugs like cocaine to the mix, and your worry trebled.

“What? Are you telling me what I can and can’t do now?” JJ asks. His voice borders on a scoff.

“This is dangerous, JJ.”

“I’m scared straight, hun. Thanks,” he mutters. Leaning forward, he snatches the baggy from you.

“I don’t like the thought of you taking that stuff, JayJ. It’s a slippery slope,” you slowly reply, trying to level your temper.

JJ sighs impatiently, rolling his eyes. It doesn’t help calm the storm brewing inside of you.

“Why’d you always have to ruin everything, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“Things were finally starting to go back to normal and you have to fucking fixate on another thing. I swear to God, I never do anything right by you. I mean, I’d just gotten over you losing your shit at me the other day—”

“Gotten over it? I’m sorry, let me just check I’m hearing this right?” you interrupt, shifting your weight. “You got over the fact that your girlfriend had to track you down in person to check you were okay, to find you drunk and passed out? Then you yell at me for coming and tell me to leave, several times. And you remember me being the villain in all of that?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You didn’t do some fucking FBI work to find me; I was in my own Goddamn house.”

“Not the point, JJ,” you loudly counter.

JJ rolls his eyes at you and moves to stand, pulling on a pair of boxers. “You’re such a bitch sometimes, you know that?”

You stare at him. Did you just hear him right? Before you can ask or even respond, JJ’s walking out onto the porch as if you’re not in the midst of an argument.

You watch as he grabs a leftover vape that’s laying on the window ledge. There still seems to be some power left in it. He takes a couple of hits. You simply stare after him. It seems useless to follow. Useless to keep chipping away at this fight that you’re bound to lose. So, instead, you turn back to the kitchen and let the distance between the two of you gape. Another argument unresolved.

Opening your eyes again, meeting his that shimmer blue in the low light of your kitchen, you can’t bring yourself to do anything but frown, your expression the image of sympathy. 'We can go back to how we were.'

“We can’t, JJ,” you whisper.

“Who says we can’t?”

“I say we can’t,” you reply.

“You don’t understand,” JJ tells you, as if ignoring your words entirely. You’re shaking your head, staring down into your coffee, but it doesn’t seem to deter him from continuing. “I can’t picture my life without you in it. These past couple months have felt like there’s a lack there or something. Like something’s missing. And something is missing. You are. You’ve always been there for me, even before we were together. I don’t…I don’t know how I’m supposed to go on with my life without you in it.”

You’re crying now. Silent tears fall down your face. Muffled pain.

The touch of his hand on yours feels electric, but not in a good way. Not in the way it used to. It’s like the shock that it thrills inside of you, which once was excitement, is now merely pain. You half want to jolt your hand back, but that would be too dramatic. Too much.

“Please. Please,” JJ’s begging, crying too. “I just need you in my life.”

“I don’t understand how,” you tell him, voice wet. You meet his gaze again. It feels almost too painful to maintain it for too long. “I can’t be your friend again, JJ. And I definitely can’t be your girlfriend again. So how am I meant to be in your life?”

“You just can! You just have to be there! You have to be there for me!”

Your lip quivers.

He gathers himself, exhaling slowly. “You just…Have to.”

Have to. Like there wasn’t any other way. Like his planet doesn’t spin without you and his universe is empty of planets and stars. Like his world is void of life and you’re the water that can make his plants bloom again. But it doesn’t bring you joy like it would’ve months ago, to hear him say that. It’s too much, too late. Antique coins lose their value.

“I mean…Don’t you miss me?”

Your vision focuses on his tear-streaked face again. Hair still damp. Cheeks pink and nose red.

“Of course I miss you,” you whisper, half-insulted that he’d even ask that. Can’t he see how much this is tearing you apart? “I miss all of it.”

“You don’t have to though,” JJ says. “We can go back to how it was.”

You finally look back down to see his hand still atop of yours. Touch gentle and kind. He used to be kind to you, all the time. Never would raise his voice at you and would never make you cry. But after John B and Sarah vanished, their deaths presumed, it was like something in him snapped. It’s easier to destroy a sandcastle than to build it, and JJ seemed hellbent on destroying whatever bond the two of you had - the love the both of you shared - rather than trying to protect it.

Your relationship with JJ was delipidating. Like a temple built on an eroding cliff, what was once beautiful and serene is now crumbling away, brick by brick. Pope and Kiara and even a stranger in the Goddamn street can see how dysfunctional it is. What was once affection and care is now venom and pain. And yet, underneath all the animosity, there’s still a love that keeps the two of you in place, fighting for things to stay together. After every blowout, one of you ends up in tears and the other is ironically the only person who can comfort them. Then comes the kisses and the apologies and the make-up sex, and the promises to not fight again, and to do better, and to fix what you have. But it’s all a fiction. The next fight comes and it’s uglier still.

JJ seems almost unrecognisable to you most days. The drinking and the drugs and the recklessness is hideous. Brings a pain to your heart that can only be rivalled by the one that comes when you fight. Pope and Kiara don’t see it as much as you do. It’s like he tapers it down for them, only giving them a glimpse. But you’ve always had the honour of seeing every part of JJ, including this. When you beg for him to stop drinking, to try and get himself under control, he goes on the defence. JJ’s words shoot to kill when he’s mad. And it’s like the venom in his words brings out an ugly side of you, too. Infects you with his anger until you're lashing out. When you’re in blind fury, you don’t care what you say, so long as it’s painful. Words that you’d never think come flying out of your mouth. Things you’d never mean are said with nothing short of conviction. About him. About his dad. About him being like his dad. About John B too, sometimes. About it being JJ’s fault. But he doesn’t hold back either. About you. About you and your parents. About you and your exes. About you and John B too, sometimes. It’s ugly and painful and evil.

But it was always words. Sticks and stones, right? You can sooth any cut from a slander with an apology said through soft kisses and softer caresses. Overlay the memory of an insult with sweet-nothings and moans of affirmation. Only words. So, when the next inevitable fight comes with the two of you at his house, after JJ does something particularly stupid at a kegger after flirting with a girl right in front of you to make you jealous, all because you’d said something the other night, you prepare for the hurl of abuse.

“I was just fucking talking to her!” JJ shouts.

You scoff and roll your eyes. “You were practically drooling all over her.”

“Drooling!?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re fucking delusional, you know that?” he chuckles darkly.

“I’m delusional?”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Are you seriously calling your own girlfriend crazy, right now? Do you know how Goddamn sexist that is?” you snap.

JJ shakes his head and does that all-too-familiar walk to his kitchen. You follow as per. It’s like the two of you follow a script when you fight. Insult, jab, insult, jab, drink, jab, insult, cry, silence, drink, comfort, kiss, sex, apologies, promises, sleep. It’s tiresome and it’s pathetic but you don’t want to leave it, because if you do, then you have to face the alternative. You have to face having nothing. No arguments and no JJ. Somehow, arguing with JJ is better than not having him to talk to at all.

But with every fight comes the fading hope that this rough patch will pass, and you’ll be out of the woods, stronger than before.

“Don’t walk away from me, JJ!”

“Stop screaming at me like a psycho bitch!” he shouts back, slamming the fridge door shut. Beer bottle now in hand.

“Don’t call me a bitch, you asshole!” you scream. "Don't you dare drink that!"

JJ laughs at you. "God, it is adorable how you think I give a shit about anything you say to me."

"Oh, I'm so sorry that I actually give a shit about your health! Clearly you don't, snorting any fucking thing you can get your hands-on like some deadbeat junkie."

JJ isn't replying. Won't fight back. Drinking from his bottle like he can't even hear you. Makes you angrier. Say something, do something.

"Guess you're just living up to the family-traits though, huh? Like father like Goddamn son. No wonder your mom left you."

It takes you a moment to realise what made you stop shouting. What made your breath get caught halfway in your throat, heart thumping loudly in your ears. Then, your eyes are slowly drifting down to the floor, to the side of your feet.

Shards of the broken bottle are scattered on the floor. Beer drips down the wall, spills onto the floorboards, pools around the pieces of glass. The sound of shattering was so loud when it hit the wall. No wonder; it happened right by your ear. It was practically inches from your face.

The shock subsides enough to let tears come. You let out a shuddering breath as the reality hits that it could’ve hit you in the face. That could’ve been your face.

When your eyes come to focus again, moving to glance up into JJ’s, he looks just as shocked as you. Just as horrified.

“Baby…”

He starts towards you.

You hold up a hand, prompting him to stop, and take a wobbly step backwards.

“Don’t,” you rasp. You sound terrified. Half don't recognise your own voice.

That could’ve been your face.

“Baby, I didn’t mean to,” JJ whispers, his voice breaking. “I didn’t…I don’t know why I did that. I…”

Your eyes lower to the ground as your hand gradually falls limp by your side. You look to the glass and beer on the floor. How ironically poetic.

“What are we doing, JJ?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” he hopelessly replies.

You shake your head. Eyes still fixated on the broken bottle. “I don’t…I don’t think this is love anymore, JJ.”

“Don’t say that,” JJ says.

“It can’t be,” you continue, ignorant to his pleas. JJ comes towards you once more and you shake your head, turning away from him before he can make a grab for your hands. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“I know,” he says.

His arms wrap around your waist. He hugs you against him, nestles his face in your hair, presses some kisses against your scalp. There’s the inconsistent drip of his tears.

“I’m sorry,” he’s mumbling into your hair. “I’m sorry. I won’t do that again. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to, okay? I’m so sorry, baby.”

But it’s too late, isn’t it?

Before it was words and that was torturous enough. It was painful when he’d say things to you that he knew would hurt, sure, but you’ve never been afraid of him before. But this, now…You can’t go back. You can’t ever go back from that. It’s with a terrifying thought and a fresh wave of tears that you come to the realisation that you’re scared of JJ. You’re scared of the only person who you’re supposed to find comfort and love in. How does that even happen to someone?

“I know you are,” you eventually say in reply to all his apologies.

JJ pauses, settling on pressing more kisses to your head, squeezing his arms around you tighter, closer, as if trying to stop you from slipping away. But a vase covered in cracks can’t hold water in. You push his arms off you and break yourself free from his hold.

“But I can’t do this anymore.”

He mumbles your name. When you don’t turn, heading to grab your jacket from the sofa, he says it again, loud and desperate. You know he’s crying. He’s sobbing. So are you.

“Please, please don't leave me.”

It hurts. It all just fucking hurts. You head for the door. Shake off his hand as it clasps around your wrist.

“Please, baby. We can make this right, okay? We can fix it. I can fix this. Just don't leave me.”

It’s the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do, walking out his door. In fact, you think a part of your soul dies a little as you do. Left haunting his house is the ghost of your past self that you’ll spend forever trying to find again.

You carefully inch your hand out of his touch and get up, walking to the sink, mug in hand. JJ’s sighing. You catch in the reflection of the window as he hangs his head, palms covering his face. Pouring the leftover coffee down the drain, you try and gather your thoughts and feelings. They all conclude into one.

“I think you should leave now, JJ,” you weakly announce.

Your eyes glance at the window's reflection in time to catch his head lift. Then, you’re looking back down into the sink. Remnants of coffee sit stagnant in the basin. More tears fall.

“What?”

“I really think you need to leave,” you repeat.

“Baby,” JJ says, getting up. He’s walking over to you and your heart sinks.

“Don’t call me that, JJ,” you tell him. But there’s no conviction in your tone. How can there be, when all you are is a crying, fragile mess.

“Baby, please,” he repeats, ignoring you once more. His arms are wrapping around your waist, hugging you against him. It's painful deja vu. You shake your hand and put down the coffee mug, moving to try and push his arms off you. It feels claustrophobic.

“Stop calling me that,” you whimper.

This all hurts so much. The knife is twisting and turning and driving deeper and deeper.

“I don’t want you to call me that anymore.”

“I don’t understand,” JJ says. “If we both miss each other then why can’t we just go back to how it was? I can make it up to you. I can be better, this time. I can get clean. I'll be sober for you. I'll do anything.”

Finally, you managed to break free from his hold. You turn around, placing an arm on his chest to maintain some distance. His hands are still open, as if waiting to catch you.

“That’s not that point, JJ,” you tell him.

“Then what is the point? Why is this so easy for you? I mean, did you ever love me at all? Why aren’t you as torn up about all of this like I am? Did you ever care?”

His tone is turning sour, just the way it used to during your fights. It all comes screaming back to you. The desperation and the battles and the pure exhaustion of trying to hold onto a handful of sand, that only will inevitably slip through your fingers. But it makes the emotions catch fire. Searing hot pain.

“Of course I did!” you burst, eyes wet and voice fire. JJ takes a small step back, startled. “Of course I loved you and of course I miss you! I miss all of it, okay? I miss the way we were and the way you used to look at me. I miss you when I go to sleep and I miss you when I wake up. But I can’t have you in my life anymore, JJ. All the shit that happened between us leaves a sour taste in my mouth, and I can’t erase the past like it didn’t happen. Even if we did move forward, the past is always going to be there. There’s no way to get rid of that!”

JJ’s sobbing, looking away from you. You realise that you’re crying too. Hard and heavy and can barely catch your breath.

“I mean, God, JJ. Do you know how selfish it is for you to be here right now?”

His head darts back to face you. Emotions a mess, you feel your forlorn expression morph into a demented smile. Through a tearful, self-deprecating laugh, you manage out:

“I was barely just holding it together. Barely just surviving, and then you come here and say all these things to me and have this assumption that what you want is what’s right. But it isn’t, for either of us.”

“But we could just—"

“No! We can’t be together again, JJ!”

Letting out a shuddering breath, you hear your words almost echo around the room. JJ’s staring at you. Both of you are heartbroken. What a pitiful, pathetic mess it has all become.

“We can’t, okay?” you repeat, voice softer. Anger gone.

JJ purses his lips and looks down at the floor. You watch as he nods, closing his eyes as he does, as if he’s admitted something to himself.

“Okay,” he whispers. Sniffs harshly. Wipes at his face. You do the same. “Okay.”

This isn’t how you want it to end. You don’t want him to walk out the door with this as his last memory of you. You can’t keep letting the season end on a bad episode. So, slowly, you reach out a hand to grab for one of his. His arms are hanging by his side, defeated. At the touch of your fingers, his instinctively wrap around yours, and he raises his head to look at you.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. The tears have now subsided, for the most part.

He gives a quivering smile. Bitter-sweet and painful. “Me too.”

He squeezes your hand in his. Now, there’s almost nothing. No zip of excitement or sooth of comfort, and no jolt of pain. Just…JJ.

“I don’t want you to hate me for—”

“I could never hate you,” you say, cutting him off. Smiling yourself, the expression a mirror-reflection of his, you nod. “There’s gonna be a part of me that’s always gonna love you, JayJ. You were my first everything, and that doesn’t go away. Ever. I’ll always be rooting for you and I’m always gonna care for you. But…I have to do it from a distance now, okay? It’s the only way either of us can move on with our lives.”

JJ swallows your words like one might swallow medicine. Unpleasant at the time but affirms a healthy future.

"I know," he nods. "I'm always gonna love you too."

You find yourself wrapping your arms around his neck. Holding him in a hug, tight and secure. His arms coil around your waist and he squeezes you back. The two of you know this will probably be the last time you ever embrace. Ever get to hold him, and him hold you. Neither of you wants to waste it, but neither of you wants to drag it out, in fear that they may never let go. As you pull away, JJ presses a brief, fleeting kiss to your cheek.

Standing in front of one another, once more, you remember the hurricane. The windows are rattling in their frames, rain battering down on them. It’s intense out there.

“You want me to stay?” JJ wonders softly.

You frown.

“I mean-” He gesture to the hurricane-induced storm outside. “I know how you hate them.”

You smile, eyes flitting down. Shaking your head, you sigh. “I need to face them on my own now, I think.”

JJ chuckles soberly. Nodding in understanding, he takes a step or two back. His hands slip into his pockets.

“Then…I guess I should leave.”

“Are you gonna be okay walking home?” you ask. You meant what you said: you’ll always care for him.

JJ nods, smiling brighter still. There’s still the shadow of pain that haunts the expression though.

“Yeah. You know me, I live on the edge.”

With his wink to accompany his sardonic words, you give a soggy laugh. JJ grants you a small wave and another smile. Your favourite smile. Your favourite person. Then, he’s turning around and walking himself to the front door. You hear the gust of wind battle into the house as he opens it, and the hearty slam as he forces it closed.

Standing stoic in the kitchen as if stupefied, you stare after him.

It’s done.

No more new memories. Only the old, to have and to hold, to care for and to cherish. Right now, they’re painful and visceral, but give it time, and they’ll be digestible. You can comb through them and smile and reminisce. Beneath almost every emotion is a tinge of happiness, be it grief or anger. Heartbreak will simply be the same.

Walking back to the living room, you cuddle up under a blanket on the sofa and snuggle against the cushions. Flicking the television back on, you sigh, sit, and continue watching your new show.

From inside the chateau, the windows rattle from a vicious blow of wind.

“What are you doing?” JJ snorts. His voice sounds like it’s come from the doorway.

You look up from the spot you’ve claimed on the floor, cocooned in a blanket. Your cheeks are wet from tears and JJ’s face becomes void of humour, instead morphing into concern.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” he worries, quickly coming over to you.

“It’s dumb,” you sniffle.

JJ shakes his head as he lowers to his knees, wrapping you into his arms. “It's not dumb.”

“You don’t know what it is yet.”

“Well, even if it is dumb, I won’t love you any less. Just might judge you a little, is all.”

You gently batt at his stomach at his stupid joke, making him chuckle.

“What is it?” he asks again, shifting so he can look you in the eyes.

Your rolling your eyes at your ways when you answer. “I hate hurricanes. I guess I have a fear of them or whatever you wanna call it.”

“A fear?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, wiping your wet face.

JJ nods, humming in understanding. He glances around the room a moment and you find yourself inching closer to him for shelter. A flash of lightning shoots a dart of light in the room and you can’t withhold your pathetic, childlike whimper, closing your eyes. Then comes the doomsday thunder. It’s a short pause between the two; means it’s getting closer.

“Here,” JJ says, getting to his feet. He holds out a hand for you and helps you up. “I got an idea.”

“You do?” You say.

You tug the blanket around your shoulders like a shawl. JJ starts moving the sofas and furniture into a weird arrangement. You simply stand back and watch.

“My mamma used to do this for me,” JJ says through a grunt. “Whenever I was scared.”

“JJ Maybank? Scared?” You jest.

He rolls his eyes as he perfects the formation of the armchair, smiling. “Yeah, yeah. Hard to believe, I know.”

“What were you scared of?”

“The dark. And the monsters in my dad’s closet,” JJ replies. He’s now grabbing any blanket he can find.

“The monsters?” you repeat, humour clear in your voice.

“Hey, I didn’t make fun of your current fear of hurricanes, did I?” JJ warns, pointing at you.

You nod and hold your hands up in surrender. That’s fair. “So, what did your mamma used to do then?”

“She’d make me blanket forts,” he says. “To hide from the monsters and the dark.”

“A blanket fort?” you check, smiling.

He’s dragging a blanket over the sofas to make a shelter. You catch on and start to gather some of the throw pillows and couch cushions to make it cosy on the floor, whilst JJ finishes on the structure.

“Yeah. It’s like one of my favourite memories I have of her. She’d make them real cosy and then we’d watch a movie, and I’d be safe.”

When it’s all finished, JJ turns to you and grins. Gesturing proudly to his creation – bumpy as it is – you grin, giggling a little. “Ta da!”

“A Maybank tradition,” you say.

He climbs into the fort and settles on the cushions. The light from the lamp casts through the blanket to give the faintest glow. Holding out his hand, you take it with a laugh and move to sit beside him. He shifts you so you can lay with your head resting on his chest. His arm loops around your waist and you place a hand on his side. It’s quiet in here. The rainfall is barely audible and the thunder is muffled. It feels like its own world, safe from anything else. Safe with JJ.

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“So, what’d ya think?”

“I think this might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever done, Maybank,” you reply, looking up at him.

JJ grins. “Just wait ‘til we get that gold. The blanket forts are gonna be insane.”

You laugh and shake your head. JJ falls into an extravagant daydream of the forts he’ll build for you: with drawbridges and dragons and all sorts of ridiculous crap, that you know he’s only spewing because it’ll get a laugh out of you. Settling against his chest, feeling the rumble of his voice and shaking of his laughs through his t-shirt, you smile. What a sweetly clandestine memory to share.   

[writingjjfics]

i cried

[featherandferns]

pirates (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | shamelessly and obviously inspired by taylor swift's 'seven'

content warning: mentions of abuse

word count: 9k. roughly

Blurb: if you ever needed to find yourself or jj maybank, one would recommend you head to pirate's cove, no matter the age or day.

The water was tepid. There was some lingering woodsy fragrance, probably from the cedar trees that towered high all around the waterside, alongside something undeniably fresh in the air. JJ waded in the murky water. The ground was warm with sunlight that flitted through the canopy of trees. As it illuminated the leaves, there was a strange greenish hue that overcame everything. The water plants and reeds only added to it, making the place feel peaceful and serene. In one hand he held a net, and another a bucket. JJ was searching for frogs. His father had told him it was season for them and JJ had taken that as his summer-break mission.

There was a ripple in the water and something that wasn’t short of a ‘splash’, and JJ spun around in time to see a frog leap from the water and onto a moss-covered rock. He grinned.

“Got ya,” he muttered to himself.

Slowly, carefully, he approached. Net at the ready, he continued to ease towards it. ‘Slowly now, JJ’, he told himself. ‘Slowly’.

A sudden scream ripped through the trees.

The frog leaped away for safety and JJ, in the fright of it all, stumbled backwards and tumbled into the water. It came up to his shoulders, his tiny body almost fully submerged, and he swore out like he had heard his father do. Somehow, it made him feel slightly better. Before he could get to his feet, the scream came again. It sounded high, but there was no telling if it was girl or boy. It was probably somebody playing around. He rolled his eyes, frog now gone, and got to his feet. Just as he went to get back to frog spotting, he heard it again. Only, this time:

“Help!”

His head spun around to where it came from. That didn’t sound like no joking. He waded out the water as quick as he could, feeling as if it were pulling at his legs to keep him from land. Managing onto dry ground, he looked around through the thick forestry for where it came from.

“Come on,” he mumbled to himself. His little legs were a little scratched up from the rocks and dirt he’d fallen on in the water. As the air got to the tiny cuts, making them sting.

The scream came again, this time louder and more panicked. JJ started off in the direction of it, ditching his bucket but holding onto his net. He raced towards the sound, perfecting his course with each one that came, until he stopped at a bank.

There stood a girl on a mud bank.

You couldn’t have been older than seven. You were surrounded by marsh water. Hair falling around your shoulders as if the sea had churned you up and spat you out. Your cheeks were wet and eyes wide, focused on something below in the water.

JJ squinted as he tried to focus. Driftwood?

The wood shifted closer to the bank and you opened your mouth in a screech.

“Gator,” JJ said.

Your head darted up at the sound. You locked eyes with JJ. More tears came.

“Help me!” you cried. “Please!”

JJ looked around. Where was his dad? Wasn’t there somebody else here? Could nobody else hear you hollering like someone being murdered out in daylight?

“It’s getting closer!” you wailed. JJ watched the gator slowly slink towards you, as if taunting.

“Okay, okay,” he said, nodding. “Lemme think, alright? You’re gonna be fine.”

“Hurry,” you continued to sob.

JJ’s young mind was racing. He thought back to his mother’s lessons when they were sat out in the sun the other week. Snakes don’t like dogs and gators don’t like noise? Was that it? He looked down at the net in his hand. It was a long stick, at least half his height. If he were to disturb the water and yell, maybe it’d change course? That’d give you enough time, perhaps?

“Alright,” he said, voice trembling. He looked to you again and, as if you could feel his gaze, you looked up from the gator. Clearing his throat, he tried to make his tone more demanding like his pops. “Alright, here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna try and distract him over here, and you’re gonna make a run for this here bank.”

“What?” you gaped. “I…I can’t do that!”

“You gotta! Run as fast as you can, alright! Keep running that way, back to the houses,” JJ instructed, pointing to his right. Your lip trembled. “You can do it, alright? I’m gonna be right behind ya.”

You stared at him. Looking back down at the gator, you seemed to consider his plan. Then, meeting his eyes again, you pursed your lips, sniffled, and nodded.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” JJ said, nodding himself. He swallowed his fear, squared his shoulders, and moved to the left of the bank. Grabbing another large branch, struggling only slightly with the weight, he took a deep breath. Then, splashing the water as hard as he could, he began to yell. “Come here gator! Come on!”

The moment the gator turned; you took off running. Your small body met the water and you started to swim as fast you could. JJ hit the water harder now, yelling louder.

“Come on gator boy! Come on!”

The frantic splashes of your front stroke seemed to catch the gator’s attention more so. You weren't looking behind you, eyes focused on the land.

“Come on! Come for me!” JJ practically pleaded.

The gator stayed still a moment. Then, slowly, began to sulk towards JJ.

His victory and smile were only brief, as his prepubescent brain caught onto the fact that a gator was making way to him.

Glancing to you, he saw you crawling onto the land, coughing and panting. You began to race towards the houses, just as JJ has instructed. Following suite, he ditched his net and branch and took off after you.

“Keep going!” he hollered. “Keep going!”

The pair of you ran and ran and ran. You ran until you were out of the marsh, out the of the clearing of the trees, and out onto the main street of the neighbourhood you were in. You finally stumbled to a slow, and eventually a stop. JJ copied. The two of you hunched over, panting heavily, hands on knees.

“Oh my God,” you whispered to yourself.

JJ felt as if he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs. It certainly didn’t help when you flung yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck.

“Thank you!” you cried.

It took a moment for him to react. Then, he wrapped his scrawny arms around your frame.

“Hey, hey,” he coaxed, rubbing your back like his mom did with him when he was poorly. “You’re alright now.”

You nodded against him but continued to cry, nonetheless.

“I thought I was dinner for a second,” you laughed sadly. JJ chuckled too.

“You scared off my frogs,” he told you. You laughed harder, untangling yourself from him.

“Sorry,” you said, wiping your cheeks.

“What were you doing on that bank, anyway?” JJ asked.

You looked down at her feet nervously, almost embarrassed.

“There was this real pretty butterfly on there and…I just wanted a closer look.”

“Don’t nobody tell you that’s gator land?” JJ said. You looked back up to him and shook your head.

“No! I just…I wasn’t thinking!” you replied, becoming tearful again.

JJ reeled himself in.

“It’s alright,” he said. “It gets confusing out there.”

You smiled tentatively and nodded. Sniffling once more, you stuck out a hand and introduced yourself.

JJ took it and gave it a shake like he’d seen adults do at school and his daddy’s work. “JJ.”

“Nice to meet you, JJ.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

You both stood a moment and smiled at one another. “I’m sorry about your net.”

“It’s alright. Had it for ages.”

“I can get you a new one,” you told him. Then, as if a light bulb had gone off, you said, “I have a spare one I think!”

JJ hesitated. His mom had told him not to be greedy of people. ‘We don’t take charity, JJ.’

“You don’t have to,” he hesitated.

You shook your head firmly and took one of his hands in yours. You began to drag him as you set off walking down the road.

“Yes, I do. You saved my life, after all.”

JJ couldn’t really argue with that logic. Hand in hand, the two of you walked to your house. As you went, you asked about the frogs. JJ told you as much as he could remember reading. There was a picture book in school about them with a few easy-to-read facts put here and there. It was far more interesting than the maths the teacher had been going on about, so he’d read it under his desk. You nodded along and listened fervently. At some part on the walk, you'd started playing frogs. Ribbiting and hopping around, even playing leapfrog. Eventually, you came to your house.

JJ paused as you started walking up to it. When you noticed he was no longer by your side, you turned around.

“What?” you asked.

“It’s just…I live just down the road there,” JJ said, pointing. “Near the water.”

Your smile came back, wide and pure. “No way!”

He smiled back. “Yeah!”

You raced over and grabbed his hand, pulling him around the back, to the shed.

“We’re gonna be best friends!” you cheered, making JJ laugh.

He didn’t hate the sound of that. Making friends at school hadn’t been all that successful. There was only one boy who he truly got on well with, and he was called John B. JJ wasn’t sure why his name was John B, but then again he wasn’t completely sure why everyone called him JJ. He liked your name. It was different, a bit like you.

You came to the shed and pulled it open. Going through the tools and such, you dug about until you found a spare net buried amongst spider webs near the back.

“I knew it!” you triumphed, holding it up. Walking over to JJ who stood out in the late afternoon sun in her garden, you stopped before him. “Kneel.”

JJ did as demanded.

Tapping him on each shoulder, you announced with a laugh, “I now pronounce you sir knight JJ…Uh, what’s your last name?”

“Maybank.”

“Sir knight JJ Maybank!” you said, loud and proud.

JJ giggled as he got to his feet, giving a bow. He then began to wave like he’d seen the English queen do on TV once. You began to applaud and cheer, pretending to bow to him like he was Jesus walking into town on palm Sunday.

Someone called your name. "Is that you?” a voice called from the house.

The pair of you turned to see a woman stood on the patio, using her hand to keep the sun from her eyes.

“Yeah, ma!”

“Come on in! Dinner’s nearly ready!” She called.

You nodded and looked to JJ. You handed him the net.

“What’re you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing, I don’t think,” JJ replied.

“Want to play pirates?”

“Sure,” he said, not fully sure what pirates involved but very interested, nonetheless. Maybe he could see if John B was free too. The three of you might make good ruffians.

“Okay,” you grinned. You flung your arms around his neck again before racing towards your house. As you went, you called out your farewell to him.

“Smell you later, Maybank.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The creek had quickly become the usual haunt of JJ and yourself. It was a little bit from the waters near his house, more secluded by forestry, though not as much as the marsh. You still got twitchy about going in there after the alligator incident. JJ couldn’t really blame you. The thing would’ve eaten you in one bite.

You'd found a small nook of fresh water, deep enough to swim. There was a rope swing tethered to a branch which made your secret spot feel only slightly spoiled, under the notion that someone else had gotten there first. Never the matter, every time you went, it was empty. Your whoops and hollers, and the narrative of whatever make-believe game you had come up to play, filled the air. It probably carried through to JJ’s house, which was nearest the spot that only JJ and you knew.

“Ahoy!” you growled, jumping out from behind a bush. “Gimme your gold and nobody gets hurt.”

“If I’m getting hurt then there’s gonna be two funerals!” JJ returned loudly as he unsheathed his sword.

You advanced forward with yours, already posed for fight. JJ slashed in return and the two of you heard the clink of metal hitting metal. You swung and sparred, dancing around the bank of the water. Bare feet treaded over pine needles and rotting, fallen leaves, damp from the water from when the rain pushed the level to rise yesterday.

Gasping, you ducked to avoid a deadly swing of JJ’s sword to your head.

“You’re gonna regret that, matey!” you threatened, and with that, drove him into the water. Before you could break free, JJ was pulling you in with him, and the two of you became submerged.

The water was cold. The continuous flow of it meant there was no time for the sun to heat it, least of all through the leaves above them. There was only one break in the trees where you could see the blue sky fully. You broke to the surface first, then JJ. The two of you were grinning as they clambered to your feet. The water came up to your waists, though only to your parent’s middle thighs most probably. Not that your parents knew their spot. This was sacred ground. When you'd found it, you had demanded that JJ keep it a secret.

“Cross your heart, won’t tell no other,” you'd said. JJ did as you asked and you grinned that same carefree grin as you copied. JJ was still warming up to ask youif John B could join. As the summer had gone on, he’d become closer and closer to Big John’s successor.

“You’ll never find me gold!” JJ announced, holding his sword above his head with one arm. “It dies with me!”

“As will I!” you countered loudly.

Another battle, bloodier than ever, and JJ ended up on his back on the wet bank, dripping from head to toe. His t-shirt was drenched, sticking to his sun-kissed skin, and you stood over him in your sopping blue summer dress. Your skin sparkled with the sheen of the water under the sunlight. It was as if the heavens were blessing you.

Your sword’s tip met his chin, driving his head backwards and up.

“Any last words, Maybank? Your crew is nowhere in sight,” you snarled.

JJ grinned. “Kiss my ass.”

You couldn’t help but gasp out a laugh. Taking advantage, JJ batted the sword off of him and drove his into your chest in one fluid motion. You stumbled backwards with another gasp, this time more dramatic. Holding the handle of the sword, you gently pulled it from her chest.

“You’ll rue this day,” you warned weakly.

Then, you tumbled backwards into the water to meet your untimely demise.

A hand searched for your arm and wrapped around your bicep, pulling you up to sit.

“What does ‘rue’ mean?” JJ asked you.

You sat in the water.

“I don’t know,” youreplied. “I just heard them say it in a movie once.”

“Hm,” JJ thought.

He sat himself beside you. You were no longer pirates battling over treasure. Instead, you were best friends for the summer. At that age, of seven-turning-eight, friendships come fast and easy. All what matters is if you’re any good at gallivanting and sword fighting, or running secret missions against the Russians and English, or racing from one house to another. Not what clothes you wear or how much money you have, or if you’re a kook or a pogue.

“I should probably go home soon,” JJ said. The sun was getting crisper, more orange, warning of dusk.

“You could stay for dinner at our house if you like,” you offered.

JJ thought it over. “I’d have to ask my parents.”

“Okay. I can come with you, if you like.”

“That’s alright,” JJ said. He got to his feet and you got to yours. “Come on.”

The two of you made their way out of the hiding spot and back into real life. A slight shiver had begun to run up your back now that you weren’t racing around in battle. It was a chillier night. You came to JJ’s house first. He hesitated as he looked up at the door. There was a faint ruckus coming from inside. You stood beside him and stared up. He’d been in your house plenty of times, but you’d never been in his. Come to think, you'd never met his parents.

“You gonna ask?” you wondered.

JJ didn’t look at you as he nodded. His eyes remained focused on the door.

“Yeah. Just…wait here a moment,” he said quietly.

JJ approached the house and made his way up the porch steps slowly, then opened the shutter. To the back door he went. He took a breath before pushing it open and walked into his home.

You stood in the garden and waited.

The ruckus was getting louder and it began to sound like voices, shouting. A woman and a man. There was the sound of something being shoved, maybe a table, and then a loud smash of a plate. You gasped and felt your heart begin to pick up. This wasn’t the same sort of heartbeat as when you were battling JJ on the water banks. This was true fear. The type you'd felt when you were face to face with the gator. It only seemed to speed up the louder the hollering got.

“Leave her alone!” you heard JJ’s young voice yell.

A crisp, clean noise echoed in your ears.

Skin hitting skin.

JJ’s unmistakeable screech.

You couldn’t stop yourself from taking flight. You raced to your house, up the street.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

There was the sound of something tapping. It wasn’t a regular tapping, like a leaky drain dripping outside. It came and went for ages, then again, maybe louder or quieter. You groaned and tucked your head under her duvet, hoping it would pass. It wouldn’t. You tossed your sheet off and flicked on your lamp. Staring to the window, you waited for it to come again. For a long while, it didn’t. Then: clink.

“Are you joking me?” you mumbled sleepily, getting up. You trudged to the window and pulled up your blind. It was dark outside. The sound of crickets and a distant owl hooting was the only sound you were met with when you pushed the window up and open. Looking around, there was nothing save for your back garden.

“Psst!”

You frowned and looked down. There stood JJ. He was in his pyjamas, barefoot.

“JJ?”

He replied with your name as if checking, nervous. You heard him sniffle.

“What are you doing? It’s really late,” you yawned, rubbing your eyes to help them adjust.

JJ rubbed his arm.

“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?” you asked, trying to keep your voice to a whisper. JJ looked up at you again and now, with your eyes adjusted, you could make out tear streaks.

“Can I sleep over, do you think?”

Glancing briefly to your bedroom door, you wondered what your parents might say. They liked JJ for the most part. He was polite when he came around. They knew he made a good friend for their daughter. Besides, it was the summer break. Why couldn’t you have a sleepover? You looked back down to him and nodded.

“Can you climb up?”

You lived in a lodge, the same as most of the people on the cut. It was elevated from the ground by a meter or more. JJ nervously eyed up the wall before shaking his head.

“Do you have a rope or something?”

You turned around and searched your room. You could tie together your bedsheets and blankets, like they did in the movies. No, that wouldn’t work.

“Ah,” you said.

You spotted a skipping rope hung up on the back of your bedroom door. Grabbing it, you came back to the window and lowered it down. JJ wasn’t particularly large. You were the same height and nearly the same weight. His shoulders were a little broader and his legs a little longer, but save for that, you were equals. You believed you might be able to tug him up.

“Grab on.”

JJ began to climb up the wall, using your rope to help. You struggled as you held it steady, managing his weight only just. He came to the windowsill and got a grip, clambering in. You helped him step down into your room. In the full light of your bedroom, you could make out his running tears. On his left cheek was a bright pink mark, almost the perfect shape of a hand.

“Oh JJ,” you mumbled.

That only seemed to make him cry more. You quickly wrapped her arms around him in a hug. It made you feel better to be hugged whenever you scraped your knee or fell off your bike. JJ hugged you back, crying into your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he wailed, voice small and fragile like a fixed China plate.

“You don’t gotta be sorry,” you told him quietly.

When JJ had cried most of his tears, you pulled away and closed your window. JJ made his way to your bed, burying himself under the pink and orange duvet. He mumbled something about his head hurting. You closed the blinds, climbed in too, turning off your lamp. You tucked your white childhood bear, named August bear, under one arm.

You lay in silence for a moment. This was different to the other sleepover you'd been to. You'd only been to one, for a girl classmate’s birthday. The other girls and you had spent all night whispering, giggling about anything and everything. The birthday girl’s mom had shushed you several times. Here, all there could be to hear was JJ’s shaking breaths and occasionally sniffs.

“JJ?” you whispered. It was dark now and you couldn’t make out his face.

“Yeah?” he whispered back.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah.”

“I think…I think your house is haunted,” you told him quietly.

JJ sniffed. “Why’s that?”

“Well, your dad’s always mad,” you explained in a hush. “I think something in there takes control of him and…the ghosts are messing with you all.”

JJ’s face was slowly coming into view. His pale skin and blue eyes. Thin lips, still trembling, and nose redden from crying. “You think so?”

“Mhm,” you said.

You found his hand under the blanket and clasped it tightly.

“I think you should come live with me and…and we can be pirates, and sleep at sea, out in the secret spot, and never have to answer to anyone ever again. We won’t have to go to school when summer ends. And you won’t have to hide anymore.”

“That sounds nice,” JJ yawned.

Contagiously, you yawned too. “Yeah. It does.”

Closing your eyes, you felt herself beginning to drift off once more. Your hand remained enclosed around JJ’s. A strong grip, tight like a bowline knot. Then, JJ whispered your name.

“Mhm?”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, smelly,” you hummed.

~*~*~*~*~*

A tapping at the door came. Three rhythmic knocks. Your face lit up and you got up from the breakfast table to answer it.

“Coming!” you called. You'd grown a little over the last school year and didn’t need to go on your tiptoes no more to open the door. On the other side stood JJ, smiling.

"Morning smelly!"

“Morning,” he said. He walked into the now familiar house. Two years of friendship meant he had become a local in your household. “Did I miss breakfast?”

“Nope,” you said, walking to the table with him.

“Morning JJ,” your mom said. She plated him up two pancakes and handed him the syrup as he took the spare seat around the table.

“Morning,” JJ said politely. He was always polite to your parents.

Your dad sat to the left, saying a hi behind the paper. He came alive in the afternoons. Your mom rubbed her swollen belly. JJ had never seen a pregnant woman before. At first, he was worried an alien was growing inside of her. When he told you that, you nearly died with laughter. It wasn’t the greatest feeling to be on the receiving end.

“What’re you kids plans for the day, then?” your mom asked as she took her seat.

“We might go fishing,” JJ said, lathering his pancakes. “There’s some good spots near the marsh.”

“Not the marsh,” you said. Still afraid of the gators, even after two years.

JJ rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you gotta be careful of them gators,” he told you. He grinned as he lent over to steal a slice of bacon off your place. “They might bite!”

“Hey!” you complained, shoving him in the shoulder.

“Easy you two,” your mom chuckled. “What about John B? He coming with?”

“Maybe. We could go by his and ask,” JJ said to you. You nodded.

Your twosome became a threesome towards the end of the first summer. After playing pirates for the majority of your break, they had decided to invite John B to join. Your friendship with JJ was already set in stone (with him sleeping over almost every other night, though neither of you spoke about why), but considering you went to a different school to them both (a Catholic joint for girls only), your friendship with John B had mostly blossomed at the weekends or in the evenings after school like moonflower. Winter was filled playing games mostly inside, and spring in the grass largely. But now summer was back, school done with, and at the age of nine, there was little else more important than fishing, swimming and playing pretend in the wake.

The two of you polished off your breakfast and you finished getting dressed. Then, out you headed on your pushbikes. You stopped by John B’s, said hi to his dad, JJ stealing another slice of toast in the process, and then your trio went off to the jetty with the promise of being safe. John B had learnt how to drive his dad’s boat, so long as you stayed within a certain area, and JJ was becoming a natural fisher like his dad. You made yourself useful in anyway that you could. It seemed your blessing was swimming. You were strong in the water, could hold your breath the longest. You had taught JJ how to backflip off the jetty.

“I caught one!” JJ hollered. He tugged on the rod, struggling a moment. Reeling in a fish, he whooped loudly. It wasn’t exactly large but compared to the three nine-year-olds, anything was a marlin.

You did a little victory dance.

“Think we could have it for dinner?” John B wondered. His brown hair blew around in the summer breeze.

You pinched the still wiggling fish off the rod and dangled it in John B’s face. He cringed and scrambled away.

“Gross!”

You laughed like a mad man and then tossed it back in the water.

JJ whined. your name in complaint.

“What!? That thing wasn’t good enough to eat,” you said.

“I could’ve used it for bait,” JJ said.

“Oh,” you went meek. “Sorry.”

JJ kept his forlorn expression a moment longer as he got to his feet.

“You’re gonna be!”

With that, he pushed you in the water. You gave out a small squeal as you tumbled in. Before you hit the surface, you heard JJ’s mad laughter. An idea popped into your head. You broke to the surface, gasping for air and thrashing like you'd seen a guy do on TV.

“Help!” you gargled.

JJ panicked, leaning over and calling your name.

You kept your hands above you, splashing around. JJ tried to grab onto you. The moment you felt his hand in yours, a wicked grin came to your face, and you tugged him in too. When he came to the surface, you were cackling away, treading water comfortably as if going on a brisk jog.

“Hilarious,” he muttered, splashing at you. You splashed him back.

John B muttered something snidey about third-wheeling, and JJ and yourself shared a look. One nod then another, and the two pirates were hijacking the ship and pulling the third of their gang into the water too.

After swimming around for what felt like hours, the three of you clambered back into the small rowboat. Cheeks aching from laughter and chests heaving, you collapsed onto your backs. You grinned up at the sky. You wanted forever to feel this way. Lungs full, heart light, mind empty.

And hey - why couldn’t you?

~*~*~*~*~*

On his way back from school, JJ heard your laughter from your garden. He could recognise that sound anywhere. Walking over to your house, through to the back yard, he saw you sat on the porch steps. Your dad was sat with you, blowing bubbles in front of you both. The moment JJ came into sight, you were sitting up straighter, waving.

“I like your cap, smelly,” you said as he approached, nodding to his head.

JJ grinned and took it off. Placing it on your head, pushing down on the lip so it fell over your face, he said, “got it from my dad.”

“Nice,” you giggled, correcting it.

JJ smiled down at you. He was taller than you now, by a couple of inches.

It felt as though he had recently realised you were a girl. It sounded stupid, because JJ knew that you'd always been a girl, but when you were playing out it never seemed to matter. You were a good pirate nemesis and a decent fisher, and always up for a laugh. But in the latest school year, the girls had started whispering about the boys, nervously asking them to hold hands around the playground, playing kiss tag during lunch break. JJ and John B never got involved. They’d sit back and watch from a branch in a tree, talking about surfing. JJ was itching to try it out. His dad always raved about the waves.

You had nice hair though. Sun-stained skin and strawberry kissed lips. Your colourful eyes were squinting against the sun.

JJ stole back his cap and cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to distract his wandering thoughts.

“Wanna go get John B and head to the cove?” he wondered.

You turned and asked your dad. The answer was yes, so long as you were back before dark. With that, the two of you set off to John B’s place. JJ bumped your shoulder as you walked. You talked about school and your peers. Told stories about the fights that had broken out on the school yard. You complained about your school's mandatory summer dress's and the lack of good jello flavours in the canteen. JJ complained about only catching small fish and nothing big enough to fry.

When you went to retrieve John B, he complained that he was tired, and didn’t feel up to coming out. Walking to the pirates cove, JJ and you complained about John B not coming out to play when you hadn’t seen him in five days.

“He’s so lame,” you muttered, kicking a stone.

“What an asshole.”

“I don’t think he’s an asshole,” you said to JJ. “Sides, you shouldn’t say things like that.”

JJ shrugged. “My dad says it all the time.”

You eyed his side profile. “How are things, with your dad?”

JJ shoved his hands in his short pockets and shrugged again, watching his feet as you kept walking. “Fine.”

“He do anything lately? To you, I mean?”

He sniffed and looked the opposite way to you, at the houses. “What’s it matter?”

“Well…” You weren’t sure how to answer that. You sighed and conceded. “I guess it doesn’t.”

The rest of the walk to pirate cove was quiet. JJ felt badly and he wanted to apologise, though there wasn’t anything specific to apologise for. There was just a feeling itching at him that he’d upset you. As you came to the clearing which led to the cove, he stopped. You followed suit, watching him.

“Race?” he offered, giving you a small smile.

You grinned.

“Bring it.”

A countdown, feet poised and at the ready, and you were off. JJ stumbled over a tree root as he ran, making you laugh. You ran and ran until you got to the cove. There, panting, you had to accept defeat. JJ’s hand slapped the tree in victory.

“First!” he cheered.

You laughed.

“Best two out of three?” you wondered.

JJ eyed up where you stood, on the edge of the jump where the rope swing had been made. There was a small drop into the deeper part of the water. He grinned.

“Nah.”

Shoving you on the collarbones, you let out a screech as fell into the water. When you came to the surface, you were yelling all sorts of things at him. JJ knew you weren't really angry.

“Asshole!” you hollered.

JJ barked out a laugh.

“You said it!”

“Screw you!” you returned, making him laugh harder.

You swam to shore and unsheathed your sword. It was a little rusted from want of use, with school disrupting your battle. The older the two of you got, the more unnatural it was starting to feel to wield it. You raised it in threat of war. JJ raised a brow. Doing the same, he pulled out his own sword. Recently sharpened.

“You’re gonna regret that, Captain Maybank,” you said in a croaky voice.

“Argh,” JJ countered, advancing to you with his sword extended. “We’ll just have to see.”

The battle was bloody and brief. Though out of practise, you triumphed, with JJ dead on the dirt bank once more. Winning the fight, the map died with him, and thus the treasure. Upon realising this, you cried out a long, dramatic ‘noooo!’, dropping to your knees before falling flat on the dirt beside your defeated foe.

As you caught your breath, your smiles slowly fading, you watched the sky above. You'd fallen on the perfect spot where you could see it through the trees. Sun now lower, the days shorter thanks to fall, you sighed and folded your arms behind your head. JJ did the same.

“Hey. Can I ask you something?” JJ wondered.

“Yeah, course.”

“Have you had your first kiss yet?”

You kept watching the sky. A bird flew by, merely a dark spec.

“No,” you said. “I mean, I go to an all-girls school, remember? Not many guys to be kissing.”

“You could kiss a girl.”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Not sure if I wanna. Kiss a girl, that is.”

JJ nodded against the floor. He sighed and watched the leaves rustle in the breeze. A few fell.

“Have you had your first kiss?”

“No,” JJ admitted. Somewhat bashful and somewhat proud, he told you, “this girl Becky wanted to kiss me.”

“She did?”

“Mhm. But I didn’t feel like it.”

That was a lie. Ten year-old JJ was nervous as hell. Scared, even. He’d laughed it off with John B, was perhaps a little mean to Becky in the process, but she didn’t ask again. That was on Tuesday.

“What do you think it’s like?” you wondered. “I mean, they do it all the time in the movies.”

“Not sure,” JJ frowned. “Maybe wet?”

“Ew,” you laughed, snorting. You sat up and dusted the pine needles and dirt off your wet arms. They were already drying off. You looked down at him. His grey t-shirt was stained with dirt and dust. The red cap on his head sat funny, having been shifted since he laid down.

“We could always kiss,” you said.

JJ’s eyes darted to you.

“We could?”

“Why not?” you shrugged. You fiddled your fingers. “You and John B are the only boys I know.”

“Then why don’t you kiss John B?” JJ asked you, sitting up too.

You shrugged, looking to the water. “Just…don’t wanna.”

JJ considered your offer. He took you in as you watched the creek. Slightly imperfect features, sun-kissed cheeks, faintly rosy from running and playing. He’d rather kiss you than anybody else.

“Okay,” he said. You turned your head to face him.

“Okay.”

The two of you nervously giggled, then shifted around awkwardly. Somehow, you both ended up on your knees, facing one another. You had your hands clenched in little fists on your thighs. JJ had his buried in his short pockets. You stared at one another for a long minute, then slowly, nervously, leaned towards each other. You closed your eyes and JJ supposed he should do the same. That’s what they did in the films, after all. A gap, a falter, and then your lips clumsily met. It wasn’t a quick peck like JJ saw the other kids doing at school during kiss-tag. It also wasn’t long or passionate, like in the films. It just sort of…was. You pulled away first.

JJ opened his eyes just before you opened yours. His face was bright pink. You snorted before laughing altogether. JJ couldn’t help but copy. The two of you fell into hysterics.

“That was it?” you howled.

“What the hell is all the fuss about?” JJ agreed with a guffaw.

Your laughter echoed off the trees and rocks, and encased you in a joyous, jovial bubble.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

There were no more pirates, at pirates’ cove. Now, instead, you, JJ and John B would sit around on the dirt bank and listen to music. You passed stories back and forth about school, with the JJ’s become more and more filthy, making you and John B groan through your laughs. You often wished you went to the same school as JJ and John B. Jealousy tickled at your throat whenever you thought of the two of them hanging out without you throughout the day. You knew JJ didn’t love school. As you neared the age of thirteen, he joked about skipping class more often. You also had this weird feeling that he still preferred it to being at home. Just two nights ago he had slept at your house again. He had red markings around his neck, as if his dad had tried to choke him. As always, you didn’t ask and he didn’t explain. You just held his hand and let him sleep. Snuck him breakfast in the morning and helped him climb out your window. He didn’t need the rope as much anymore, having had a growth spurt over the summer. It remained your shared secret. It was the only one you had from John B now. Neither of you had said about keeping it on the downlow– you just mutually decide it was best to.

JJ’s aforementioned growth spurt hadn’t gone unnoticed by you. As the three of you passed stories about the boat race that happened a couple of days ago, in the first week of summer break, you found your eyes drifting to JJ. To the way his arms moved as he talked, the beginnings of muscles building since he started getting more obsessive with gym. Around his neck is a shark tooth necklace that you’d given him as a feel-better gift, a couple days after his mom left, a year ago now. It sits against his toned, sun-kissed chest. The black button-up shirt he was wearing hung lose on his frame.

“Hey! You wanna stop ogling JJ and answer the question?” John B asked, tossing a grape at you to get your attention.

You rolled your eyes at him and flipped him the bird. “In your dreams am I ogling JJ, John B.”

“Think they’re more like his dreams but whatever,” John B muttered. To that, JJ flipped him off too.

“What was your question, then?” you asked.

“Wanna go hang out at the docks? See if there’s some odd jobs that need doing? We might be able to earn a couple of bucks or something,” John B said.

You shrugged. That actually didn’t sound half bad. So, finishing your soda, you nodded and got to your feet. “Let’s do it.”

“I’m telling you,” JJ began as he stood up, too. “This guy Heyward gave me a twenty just for helping wash down his boat the other day.”

“You’re full of shit,” you told him, rolling your eyes.

“I swear to God! A whole twenty!” JJ argued back loudly. His voice cracked in the process, making you and John B share a snigger. “Fuck off.”

“Oh, someone’s got their panties in a twist,” you whistled with a grin.

“You think I wear panties?” JJ asked you, raising a brow. The three of you had started walking by then, out of the marsh.

“I know it,” you quipped back.

JJ grinned boyishly and sprinted ahead, back facing you, before promptly mooning you and John B. You both groaned, shaking your heads at him as he broke into hysterics.

“You’re so gross, JJ,” you muttered, pretending to gag.

“Lucy don’t think so,” he cockily replied, falling back into step with the two of you.

“Lucy? That the flavour of the week, huh?” you teased.

JJ rolled his eyes, smirking. “She’s cute. She’s got this wonderful, enormous—”

He gestured graphically to his chest.

“-Personality.”

“You need help, JJ,” John B said in response, making you laugh.

It seemed the moment JJ had become an official teenager, he started thinking more with his dick than his head. Girls weren’t blind to him. He was a good-looking kid; funny and outgoing and rebellious. One of the girls in your friendship group at school had a crush on him, too. Had started asking you all about him: his favourite food and favourite music. Shamelessly, she wore a band tee-shirt of The Kooks (which hung so big on her, you suspected it was from her dad’s wardrobe) the next day when the two of you went to the boneyard to hang out. The older kids didn’t much like you guys there, but when there was enough of you, they seemed to tolerate it. You had stuffed down the joy you had gotten when seeing how JJ barely even glanced at her.  

The docks were rather quiet that day. Miss Amy nodded hello to the three of you as you walked down the jetty. JJ made a crude joke about her to John B, earning a shove in the shoulder as the former boy laughed. You petted one of the fishermen’s dogs as you passed another boat. Then, you were walking up near Heyward’s. There was a boy sat outside, reading a book.

“Yo. Heyward in?” JJ asked him.

The boy looked up. Dark skin and dark hair, eyes wide as if surprised someone was talking to him. “He had to head out for a bit.”

“Damnit,” JJ sighed, looking to you and John B.

“Why? What’d you need?” the guy asked.

“We’re just looking to see if we can make a couple bucks,” JJ told him.

John B clarifies what he meant by adding, “we helped him out with some groceries the other day.”

“Oh,” the guy nodded. “You guys from around here, too?”

“Sorta,” you replied. “We go to Kildare High.”

“Me too,” he smiled. You smiled back. He seemed like a nice guy. A little awkward and tense, but friendly, nonetheless. “I’m Pope.”

You introduced yourself, shaking his outstretched hand. John B did the same and JJ nodded at him, dropping his name last.

“There’s no groceries to run but the boat needs a clean,” Pope told you all, rising to his feet. “I was just gonna finish this chapter before doing it.”

“We’re down to help if you like,” John B said.

“How much for, like?”

“JJ!” You scolded.

He held his hands up. “What? Just asking! Not gonna do slave labour!”

“Ignore him,” you said to Pope. You looked to the jetty. “Which one’s yours?”

“This one,” Pope said, pointing. It’s painted white; a little well-loved but still in good nick. He put his book down after dog-earing the page. You couldn’t help but take a scan of the cover. The World Of Autopsies.

Following his lead, you grabbed at buckets and sponges. Pope unravelled the hose pipe and pulled it with him as you headed towards the boat. JJ messed with his cap, chatting to John B about fishing, and you fell in foot with Pope.

“What’s that book you’re reading?”

“It’s about autopsies,” Pope replied, sounding somewhat embarrassed as he looked at his feet.

“What? They didn’t have any copies of Jekyll and Hyde left?” you joked.

He smiled at that. “I wanna be a coroner, when I graduate high school.”

“Damn, you’re thinking about after high school? I don’t even think past after this year,” you chuckled.

“I don’t even think past after today!” JJ added loudly.

“You don’t have any reason to!” you called back snidely. He stuck his tongue out at you.

The three of you climbed aboard and got to cleaning. The conversation came naturally; cracking jokes and telling stories, getting to know Pope. Already, he was starting to feel like he was slotting quite comfortably into your strange little gang of pirates. JJ took the piss out of him rather a lot, but you knew that he liked him; could tell by the way he kept asking him questions and offering him help.

As you hosed down the deck, JJ scrubbed away at a stain on the flagpole. A wasp flew at you. Made you screech and dodge out of the way, sending the water stream messy. It hit JJ and drenched him in a second. He shouted out your name in a curse.

“Sorry!”

JJ rolled his eyes, finding his smile, and grabbed at the bucket of soapy water. You already knew what he was thinking. Laughing, you went to start running, but he was so fast (legs now so much longer than yours) and caught up easily, tipping the water on you. Screaming from the cold, you directed the hose pipe on him, aiming for his face. The two of you laughed, starting to wrestle as he battled for the hose, and you feel like pirates again, just as you were when you were seven.

Finally, easing up, the two of you broke apart. Your chest ached from laughing. JJ wiped his face and took off his soaked cap to brush back his hair. Then, his eyes fell on you.

Laughing, pointing at you, he said, “you’re looking way to hot right now.”

You looked down to see that the t-shirt you were wearing was now see-through from the wet, sticking to your bralette. Rolling your eyes mirthfully, trying to fight off the heat that was rushing to your cheeks, you messed with your top so it was no longer pasted to your skin.

“If you two are done flirting, I’ve got some drinks for you kids for your hard work,” a deep voice called.

You and JJ spun around to come face to face with Heyward. He was holding up a tray of plastic cups. The warmth in your face only got worse. JJ mumbled something along the lines of ‘we’re not flirting’ under his breath as the two of you dumb your stuff. Stepping off the boat, hose pipe now switched off, you, JJ, John B and Pope all enjoyed a drink, an unspoken, newly formed foursome.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

At fifteen came the year of experimenting. Alcohol and weed and cigarettes. A few classmates were now in relationships. First kisses were a thing of the past and instead gossip consisted of sex. Who did what? How far did they go? Conversations like that were made for JJ. Sat around at John B’s house, you sat next to the latest member of the group (Kiara), he’d divulge in dirty stories of debauchery which none of you asked for, but all would listen to, semi-curious. Especially the boys. John B was already leaning towards being a hopeless romantic. He’d revealed to you, one night, his crush on a certain Kook girl. You tried your best not to laugh him out of your room. There’s was no chance in hell anything like that could ever work out. Pope was less awkward with you guys now, but still useless with girls. Flirting was like a foreign tongue to him. Kiara didn’t seem all that interested in dating. You and she had never talked about crushes or guys.

“I swear man, this girl was going down on me like she was thirsty,” JJ grinned, smug and sure of himself.

You gagged into your drink, making Kie laugh.

“You’re so full of shit,” Pope told him.

“Dude, I’m telling you. Getting your dick sucked is like the best feeling in the world,” JJ gloated.

“Can we please talk about something else?” Kiara asked, rolling her eyes.

John B seemed happy to indulge. “So, my dad’s got a new trial he thinks with this gold—”

“Not about the gold!” the four of you chorused at him. John B shrunk back into his seat around the fire, taking a swig of his beer, wincing at the taste. None of you really liked it all that much, yet.

“Well, my parents are still leaning towards sending me to Kook Academy,” Kie said.

You frowned. “Really?”

“Mhm. I’ve managed to convince them to let me stay another year, but I think when I turn sixteen, it’s gonna happen.”

“Damn,” you said.

“Well, we’ll still, like, come hang out with you,” JJ told her.

“Gee, thanks, JJ,” Kiara sarcastically quipped at his luke-warm sentiment.

“Yeah. I’m sure your life is going to be lacking without JJ’s sex-stories,” you joked.

“Jealousy is a disease, babe. Get better,” he said to you, semi-bitter.

The conversation fell into talks about school and summer. Daydreaming for the endless days, when the sun rises at four and sets at midnight. Life feels infinite then, full of endless possibilities. Possibilities that you dote in, like how maybe JJ might snap out of dating this endless string of girls and look at you for once as more than a friend. You knew it was a pipe dream. After being his friend for so long, it seemed pathetic to think he might be able to picture you outside of that box. No matter. He was still your best friend.

“I gotta get going home,” Pope eventually said.

“Me too,” Kie agreed, getting up.

“You guys staying?” John B asked you and JJ.

You shook your head. “Sorry, Stinky. My parents asked for me back for midnight, so I’m already past curfew.”

John B smiled at the nickname. JJ was Smelly so it only seemed right for John B to be Stinky. Downing the last of your beer, you groaned and got to your feet. JJ stood up too.

“I better head as well before my old man gets ticked off,” JJ sighed.

The two of you share a look. You know it was bullshit; he was crashing at your place tonight, just like he did almost every night. The last fight him and his dad got in got bloody. JJ was strong enough to fight back now. He didn’t cry like he did when he was a kid. Just got angry. More times when he’d show up to your house after a row, he’d be seething, cussing his dad out and tugging at his hair. It scared you to see him collapse under the pressure like that. It seemed more and more like there was this tension lying under him. Part of it must’ve been inherited from his dad – his short-fused temper – but it seemed the happy-household he lived in only coaxed it out of him further.

“Ciao ciao,” JJ called as the two of you walked away from the chateau.

“Later Pogues,” John B hollered back.

“Pogues?” you mumbled, looking to JJ.

“Like Pogies? Scum-fish?”

“Ah,” you said, nodding.

“I like the sound of it,” JJ said.

You hummed your agreement. He fixed his cap. This one was green. He got it cheap from a thrift shop.

“Hey, smelly?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” you wondered.

“I feel like you’re going to anyway,” he chuckled.

“Is sex…Like, is it actually that good?” you asked. You want to look at him when you do, but you can’t seem to be able to hold his gaze. Found it easier to casually look at the ground ahead.

JJ shrugged; hands shoved in his short pockets. “Depends. Sometimes it’s better than other times.”

You nodded.

“Why?”

“Just wondering,” you mumbled.

The two of you don’t talk more about it. You walked back to your house in near silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or tense. Routine as always, you headed up the front door and quietly call out to your parents who are sat in the living room, watching television. You snuck past your younger brother’s door to his bedroom before walking into your own. Opening the window, you started taking off your jewellery at your dresser whilst he clambered through the window. He grabbed his toothbrush from your make-up brush pot, checked the cost of the corridor before darting into the bathroom. By the time he’s done, you were in your pyjamas and sat on the bed, scrolling through Instagram.

JJ borrowed your comb to start taming his hair. He’s stood in front of your mirror, in a pair of gym-style shorts that hang low on his waist. You do your best not to look at him, stood half-naked, abs on proud display. It feels wrong for you too.

“You haven’t had sex yet, right?”

You have to look up from your phone with that.

“What?”

“You haven’t slept with anyone yet, have you?” he repeated.

“Well…No, I guess not,” you mumbled.

JJ looked to you. “Why not?”

You laughed, trying your best to keep your voice down. “Nobody’s really into me like that.”

“Bullshit,” JJ immediately said.

“What?”

“Bull-shit! I know Matty P was asking you to the kegger just last week. That guy’s so horny for you – it’s obvious,” JJ replied.

You rolled your eyes and looked back down at your phone. “He’s also a sad loser who thinks owning a designer watch is an entire personality trait.”

JJ sniggered. “True.”

“I mean, everyone knows it’s fake,” you chuckled. It seemed to work, your distraction from the topic. You didn't think there would be anyway for you to subtly explain how you hadn't entertained the idea of someone else, in the hopes that one day, JJ might want you back.

You move to crawl under the bedsheets as JJ finished up on his hair. He took his spot and you yours, like always, and you flick off your lamp. There’s nothing but a single string of fairy lights keeping your room lit up. They hang above your bedroom door, batteries half-dead, only half-lit. Sighing, you turned off your phone and dumped it in on the bedside table. JJ got comfy, shifting around under the sheets. He smelt of cologne and smoke from the bonfire.

As he laid on his back, you laid on your side, facing the wall. You felt wide awake.

“You remember when we kissed?”

Wide wide awake.

“You mean back at Pirates’ Cove?”

“Yeah,” JJ said lowly into the darkness of the room.

“I mean, yeah. I remember it,” you replied. Silence. “Why?”

“Just thinking about it,” JJ mumbled. Frowning, you wondered what he could mean.

“In what way?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed. You hear the rustle of the duvet as he turned onto his side. You weren’t sure if he was facing you or the other wall. “Just how that was the first time I sort of realised you were a girl.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. You moved the blanket to muffle the noise. Rolling over, you come to find he was facing you. There was barely enough space for Jesus to fit between you both. Maybe his arm, might?

“Flattering, smelly,” you mumbled. Both of you sported lazy smiles.

“You look so different now,” JJ told you.

“I should hope so. That was five years ago,” you replied.

“Shit. Was it that long ago?” he checked. You nodded. “So, we’ve been friends for…”

“Eight years,” you finished.

“Eight years,” JJ echoed.

There was a strange sadness to his voice, like time passed too quickly. He was so much older now. Youth still there but mellowed, from his dad and his mom and his life. One would think adult things like sex and drinking would make him more mature, but it just screamed out him being young. Wanting to experience everything the world can offer, as if he might drop dead tomorrow.

“You know the first time you slept here,” you began, “you were crying. It was after your dad hit you.”

“He’d been laying into my ma,” JJ said, filling in the blanks. “I tried to get him off her and he just went for me instead.”

“I told you something.”

“I know,” JJ smiled. “You told me my house was haunted.”

“I really thought it was,” you chuckled soberly. “And I really thought if we just moved to pirates’ cove, everything would be fixed.”

“I know,” JJ said. “I believed you. I…I remember thinking that it was one of the nicest things you’d ever said to me, when you did.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I think…”

He cut himself with a sigh, eyes drifting down, away from your gaze. For some reason, it makes your heartbeat viscerally harder.

“You think?” you encouraged, staring at him.

“I think that was the moment I realised I liked you.”

“Well, obviously. We’re friends, JayJ. I knew—”

“No,” he said, cutting you off, firm. His eyes are boring into yours, as if he can see into your thoughts. Your short-lived smile faded. “I mean that I realised I liked liked you. That I had a crush on you.”

You licked your lips nervously. “When we were kids?”

JJ’s fingers brushed against your own, under the blankets. He tangled his into yours, intertwining your hands, just like you had done when you were kids. You couldn’t tell who moved first, but the two of you start to kiss. You sighed against his lips, bringing up a hand to stroke at his jaw, feeling half-detached from your body. Is this real? Is this actually happening? The moment JJ’s teeth gently nipped at your lower lip was your answer. Yes.

All the other girls and all the other bullshit faded away. It didn’t matter to you, in that moment. JJ was tethered to you from the start, since you were kids. Everybody could see it coming – maybe even you – that the two of you would tumble through life together. It just needed time to grow, like nurturing a rare but beautiful flower. Yes, you thought, as the kiss deepens and the hands explored; good things take time.

[mvybanks]

SOMEONE TO STAY - pt.1 

a/n: i didn’t mean to make you wait 2 months but it’s here now!!! i really hope you guys like it and that it was worth the wait😫 (sorry if the ending looks rushed but it would’ve turned out way longer otherwise and i was already scared it was going to be boring oops)

warnings: mentions of cheating, abandonment issues (?)

word count: 3.5k

pairing: single dad!jj x babysitter!reader

navsomeone to stay masterlist

add yourself to my taglist <3  (if you want to be added only to the taglist of the series you can specify it in the end note of this form!)

add yourself to my rafe taglist <3

–

Lees verder

[rainysday]

Hiii if it’s okay, can I request a jj x pogue!reader? Where they are in a secret relationship.. but right before a kegger they get into a fight and ignore each other, then a girl starts flirting with jj and he fake flirts back to make the Pogues not suspicious about your relationship but reader gets insecure and thinks jj is honest with his flirting and she gets upset, walks away idk, you can think of the ending haha hope this makes sense 😊

okay YES i love this so much omg.

tysm for sending this to me! i'm honoured that you trusted me with this and i hope it's what you pictured!

requests are open! send me something here.

join my taglist here

proving a point - (j.m)

pairing: jj x pogue!reader

warnings/tags: strong language, alcohol consumption/abuse, established (secret) relationship, that's p much it??

wc: 1.9k

"Christ, JJ! Since when do you give a shit how much I drink? At an actual party?" You yell, dropping your hands from where they were rubbing the sides of your head in frustration.

"Since I had to drag you out of the driver's seat of your shitty car that's hardly drivable in the best of times! Fuck, like, I just don't want you to kill yourself or get arrested if I'm not babysitting you for five fucking seconds! I don't think I'm being crazy, here!" Your boyfriend shouts back, leaving you both staring at each other in his messy and quiet living room.

You scoff, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest. "Why's it matter to you so much anyways? Not like we have any points to prove, right? God forbid we show our friends we care about each other- that we love each other. That would just be too much, wouldn't it?"

JJ rolls his eyes, taking off his hat and turning it back the way he always does when he's about to do something risky, in the way that usually makes your heart skip a beat. This time it just makes your anger spike. "You're right. Fuck it. I'll mind my business, you black out and drive into a tree. Hit another car and kill the driver. See if I give a fuck."

"I'm not gonna drive to the boneyard, JJ. You're so fucking dense sometimes- seriously! John B is driving all of us, do you actually think I'm stupid enough to steal the Twinkie?" You retort, gesturing with one arm in the general direction of where John B's house is.

"Sometimes, yeah!" JJ laughs dryly, nodding at you.

"Oh, right. Gotcha." You nod sarcastically. "Is that why we can't tell them? Are you embarrassed because your girlfriend is stupid and gets drunk at parties? Please- I'd love to know."

"That's not why and you know it, Y/N." JJ rolls his eyes, pacing the living room now.

"Whatever you say. I'll see you tonight." You mumble, heading for the door and slamming it behind you.

You trudge your way out to your car and drive off, fighting back the tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. He didn't mean that. He couldn't have.

By the time John B arrives with the rest of your friends to pick you up on the way to the boneyard, you've managed to down three drinks to get a good buzz going before you have to see JJ again. Putting on your brave face as you close your front door behind you, you smile as you approach the van, and the back door slides open, revealing Pope and Kie in the back.

"Y/N!" Kie grins, moving over to give you some room.

"Hey, guys!" You smile, closing the door behind you as John B is already peeling out. You steady the drink in your hand, making very brief eye contact with JJ over his shoulder in the passenger seat. His eyes landing on the drink in your hand don't go unnoticed as Kie and Pope continue the conversation you were assuming they were having before you jumped in.

It isn't long after you arrive that there are kids from all over the island at the kegger, sharing drinks and yelling listening to distant music with a big bonfire raging on the sand. You sway a little with your arm placed over Kie's shoulder, both trying to steady yourselves as you talk with some other pogues you don't see very often between everyone's busy work schedules.

"Hey, wait, you guys are close with Maybank, right?" The blonde girl standing in front of you asks, attempting to whisper but the alcohol in all of your systems is preventing it.

"Yeah." You nod, looking around for him, spotting him by the fire.

"Is he single still?" She asks, and you try to suppress a laugh. Luckily, Kie isn't able to stop hers for a completely different reason.

"That hot mess? Of course he is." Kie laughs, reaching out and tapping the girl's shoulder playfully. "You're funny."

You bite your tongue, actively fighting against the glare you want to give her. You disguise it by laughing awkwardly along with Kie.

"Oh my god, how? He's so hot, are you kidding?" She giggles, shaking her head at you guys.

"Well, you don't know him like we do." You say, shrugging a little and hoping she doesn't pick up on the bitterness in your tone. She doesn't even have a shot- you're confident of that much. You and JJ love each other, even if you fight sometimes. You'll make up within the week, just like last time.

"Well, it's worth a shot." She laughs and Kie nods, pointing JJ out to her in the crowd.

The girl asks you to wish her luck as she walks off, adjusting her shirt and pulling it down slightly as she walks over to him. You bite your tongue to keep yourself from grinding your teeth together. "Kie, wanna go watch this trainwreck?" You ask, leaning into her like you're joking and she nods.

"Oh, god, yes." She laughs, and the both of you cling onto each other as you walk your way over, keeping enough distance so the girl JJ is now talking to doesn't catch on that you're listening. They're not alone, there's loads of people around, including John B and Pope who were already at JJ's side, just watching as the girl leans into your boyfriend and he drapes his arm over her shoulder, leaning down to listen closely to what she has to say.

"What are you drinking?" She asks him, tilting her head to look into his cup and then back up at him.

"Just beer." He shrugs. "Why, you want to try it? Might be a little strong for you." He teases her, making you tense up.

"Oh, please." She giggles, grabbing the cup from him and downing it, tossing the cup on the ground.

"Fuck the beaches, I guess." You mutter to Kie, who also looks displeased at her actions. You need Kie to know you're upset- to take your side even if she doesn't really know what's going on.

"That's gross." Kie says, a sour look on her face now.

"Damn, you're a crazy one, aint'cha?" JJ says, squeezing her shoulders before dropping his arm down her back, grabbing her by the waist. With his friends keeping a close eye on him, he doesn't want them to suspect anything. He finds it hard enough as it is to keep his hands off you in front of them in the soberest of times, forget when either of you have been drinking. He's coping by convincing himself it's you under his arm, not this random girl he's only entertaining to prove a point to any prying eyes. Which, unfortunately, happens to be yours.

"I... I've gotta go. Uh.. yeah." You say,  wiggling out from Kie's grasp and stumbling off down the beach, struggling to make distance with your shoes in the thick sand.

Maybe he did mean it when he said that he thinks you're stupid. Maybe he is embarrassed- and maybe this is his immature way of showing you that you're done. That you're not worth it anymore.

"You okay?" Kie calls after you.

"Just have to pee." You make a quick excuse, not looking back to make sure she doesn't see that you're so visibly upset. JJ saw, however.

You make it up to where John B parked the Twinkie, the back packed with sleeping bags and random blankets and pillows in case any of you couldn't bum a ride home with someone else.

You find yourself shaking as the world spins around you and you polish off your cup, collapsing back against the far side of the vehicle and sliding down, curling your knees up to your chest as your body is wracked with your sobs. You can't stop it now. You've lost the boy you knew was the love of your life- who you thought was the love of your life.

You let yourself cry, comfortable enough with your drunkenness and distance from the party that no one can hear you as you crush the plastic cup in your hands, shaking and trying to ground yourself. 

You eventually drop the cup, resigning to burying your face in your hands.

"Baby?" Your head snaps up when you hear a familiar voice, and when you open your eyes JJ is kneeling in front of you, reaching for your wrists to pull your hands away from your face. "Y/N/N, hey, c'mere..." He says, his tone soft and comforting despite what you just saw.

"I saw you, J! I saw that! You can't-" You sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve. "You can't come here and act like we're not done."

"What? Baby, no, it's not like that- I just, I didn't want the boys to see me shove her off they'd ask questions. You know me." JJ chuckles a little at the end, trying to cheer you up but failing miserably. "I'm sorry. Hey, look at me. I'm sorry, I took it too far. We're not done, I love you, you know that." He says seriously, locking eyes with you and rubbing your wrists with his thumbs.

You shake your head, laughing slightly. "No- this is my fault, I'm being stupid." You insist. "It's fine, JJ. I get it."

"Shit." He sighs, dropping his head defeatedly. He knows you. He knows how you internalize things and he knew as soon as he said it earlier in the day that he would regret his impulsive answer when he said he thought that sometimes you were stupid. He meant irresponsible; he meant that you don't worry about your own safety as much as he wishes you would, but in the heat of the moment he couldn't articulate that. "You're not being stupid. I was being a dick."

"A little." You admit, laughing softly. You hate fighting, you're tired of it, and you want him to not take your stupid overreactions too seriously. "I am being stupid though."

"No, you're not. You couldn't be as stupid as me if you tried." JJ insists, dropping one of your hands to reach up and brush a tear from your cheek. "I just worry about you and I'm sorry I touched her. To be honest, I'm a little pissed she stole my drink. She's annoying as shit, too."

This makes you giggle, meeting his eyes again. "There's that smile..." He whispers, brushing his thumb over your cheek again.

You lean a little into his hand. It's impossible to stay mad at him, and you know he meant what he said about her. "You know what? Fuck it. Can we tell everyone?" JJ asks suddenly, catching you off guard.

"I- well..." You ponder it. "Do you want to?" You ask.

"This is stupid, isn't it? I want everyone to know we're together. Don't you?"

You nod, smiling softly at him. "It is kind of dumb." You agree.

"Let's skip that awkward conversation and just show everyone instead." JJ nods, satisfied with himself as he lets you go to stand up, holding his hand out to you. "Come on. Let's get you another drink so I can carry you home tonight." He teases, making you laugh as you take his hand and he pulls you up.

"Do you actually think I'm stupid?" You ask with a giggle, walking hand in hand back down to the beach.

"Sometimes, yeah." JJ jokes, making you shove his shoulder with your free hand. "Never any stupider than me, though. That's why we work."

"Stupider isn't a word, I don't think." You laugh, and JJ shrugs in response.

"That's my point proven."

[writingjjfics]

Your writing is everything!! 💖🔥