Shayleigh “Shay” O’Riley

He flirted to annoy you and you insulted him because otherwise you’d stare. Because why the hell was he so attractive.

But so annoying.

Somehow, over time, after spending countless hours together and even almost dying together, it was starting to feel less and less like hate.

Your friends noticed. Of course they did.

Everyone is sprawled out on mismatched chairs in the front yard of the Chateau. The cicadas outside are loud, Sarah’s laughing even louder at something John B said, her hysterical laughter making Pope and Kiara crack up with her. JJ’s attention is on you, flicking a bottle cap in at your head like he has been all night like he’s trying to get a reaction. You finally retaliate by throwing a crumpled up can with all the strength you could muster.

Everybody agrees on playing truth or dare and when it’s your turn, Sarah grins wickedly. “I dare youuuu...” she says, drawing it out, “to kiss the person you hate the most… for ten seconds.”

Your whole body freezes. JJ immediately makes a little “oooh” noise.

“Absolutely not,” you scoff. “I’m not doing that. But I'm so glad that you know it would be you, JJ."

“It’s the rules,” he sing-songs, leaning back on his hands. “What are you scared of? You might like it?” He knows he would. Truth is, he's imagined that—and more—more times than he'd ever admit.

Your glare could cut concrete. But you know you probably would also like it. And you are scared of that. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it a time or two... or a hundred, yourself. “You wish.”

Pope already has his phone out. “Timer ready.”

You should refuse, but JJ’s smirk is so insufferable, so unbelievably smug that you would rather kiss him than let him win. And also you've drank a lot of bit of tequila. So you shake your head, roll your eyes and you crawl across the circle, grab him by the collar, and kiss him.

At first it’s stiff. Just lips pressed, both of you pretending not to feel anything. Then something shifts. His lips part a little. Yours move without you thinking and you can't help but hum quietly into his mouth. Luckily the sound is covered up by everybody's excitement but JJ hears it and can't help but smile against your lips.

He kisses you back — slowly, gently, then deeper, like he’s been waiting for this and you’ve been denying it. You feel it. He feels it.

The timer goes off and neither of you hear it. Pope raises his eyebrows and exchanges looks with your friends. “Uh... guys?”

You jolt back, blinking hard, breath uneven. JJ looks like you just short-circuited his brain.

Then he grins. “Ohhh, you liked that.”

“Please,” you snap. “It’d be weird not to move for ten seconds. They said kiss not be a dead fish."

Pope squints at his phone. “It was actually fourteen seconds.”

Your face goes hot. “I— I was dissociating!”

Every single Pogue: "Suuuuuure."

“For real,” you snap, flustered and mortified, “I might have to kiss all of you. I hate all of you equally now, actually!”

Nobody believes you. Especially not JJ, who won’t stop staring. Not cocky—well, yes, cocky—but there’s something else in his eyes. Something warm. Something hungry.

You don’t look at him again.

Later, you slip inside the Chateau, desperate for air. You grab tequila and orange juice out of the fridge, but all you can think about is his hands and his mouth and how goddamn good that kiss felt.

You’re swirling the liquid in the cup, lost in thought, when JJ walks in. You jump so violently you nearly spill your drink.

He laughs. “Relax, princess. It’s just me.”

“Unfortunately,” you mutter, sipping your concoction and wincing at the insane alcohol to juice ratio.

He grabs a glass, fills it with water, and chugs it, leaning on the counter beside you, eyes locked on you over the rim, smirk pulling slow and dangerous at his mouth.

You take another sip of your drink and glare before swallowing hard.

“So,” he says lightly, setting the glass down. “Fourteen seconds, huh?”

You refuse to react. “Fuck you, JJ.”

“Right now?”

You groan, face heating. “Stop.”

He doesn’t, he moves so that he's in front of you, voice dropping to a low, teasing drawl. "That was fun."

"Glad you had fun."

"So did you."

You shake your head. "Did you really just come in here to get water?"

“Nah, I was just wondering... what would your cop daddy think,” JJ murmurs, eyes flicking down to your lips, “about his perfect little princess kissing JJ Maybank like that?”

Heat floods you so fast it’s dizzying.

“Wouldn’t like that, would he?” JJ whispers, moving in until your back hits the counter. “Wouldn’t like how much you wanted it.”

Your breath stutters. "I—I didn't."

“You kissed me back,” he whispers. “Didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t even try to pull away. You hummed," his face moves closer to yours, smiling wide, "You wanted it.”

Your whole body heats.

“And,” he adds, lips nearly touching your cheek, “you still want it.”

“I don’t—” you whisper.

“Oh, princess.” His fingers trail lightly down your waist. “The way you're lookin' at me says otherwise.”

Your fingers grip the counter. You can't even manage a comeback.

His nose brushes yours. “Tell me to stop,” he says quietly, almost daring you.

You don’t.

He kisses you. And you kiss back. And it’s nothing like the one outside. It’s hungry, deep and messy. Teeth clashing, tongues sliding warm and wet against each other.

Your hands go to his hair, his palms slide to your waist, pulling you into him until your bodies are flush. You gasp against his mouth and he swallows it, kissing you harder, like he’s been holding himself back for years and finally snapped.

Your back hits the counter again as his hips press into yours.

You’re dizzy with how badly you want him.

He moves his hips, just a slow, deliberate grind and a shocked moan breaks from you—soft, helpless, needy, causing JJ to smile smugly against your mouth. You can feel how hard he is against you and it's driving you absolutely insane.

“Fuck,” he breathes, kissing you again, harder. “There it is.”

His hands slide lower, fingers digging into your hips as he presses you to the counter and rolls against you again, slower this time, testing you—

You moan again, shakier. Your head falls back. “JJ—”

“Yeah?” he whispers, lips brushing your throat. Fuck, he loves hearing you say his name like that. “That feel good?” he murmurs against your lips.

You nod, desperate.

“Use your words.”

“I—” Your voice cracks.

He laughs softly. “Can’t talk, huh? All that attitude…” His lips drag along your neck, slow and hot. “And now you can barely breathe. If this is you hating me, I think you should hate me more."

Your fingers twist in his shirt.

JJ bites gently at your pulse point, and you make a sound you’ve never made before.

His breath shudders. He kisses you again, deeper, hungrier, his hand sliding down your waist—

Lower—

Lower—

Your breath catches hard, your whole body tightening.

JJ pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “You still hate me?” he whispers.

You don't respond but the look in your eyes is a response in itself.

He smiles and begins to rub you over your shorts.

"Shit," you whimper, brows furrowing, eyes flooding with need.

He smiles even wider. "You like that, baby?"

You let out a shuddered breath and nod again.

He begins to quickly undo your shorts, tongue between in lips in contrentration. His fingers pause on the zipper for half a second, eyes flicking up to your face like he’s waiting for you to tell him no.

You don’t. Your breath catches in your throat.

JJ’s smirk deepens dangerously. He tugs your zipper down the rest of the way, slow enough to make your thighs tremble. When he gets his first look at your pink lace panties, his tongue rests against the back of his teeth, expression darkening with want.

“Adorable” he whispers. And in one smooth motion, he slides his hand into your open shorts — over your panties at first, palm pressing directly against the heat between your legs. You gasp, gripping the counter so hard your knuckles ache. JJ’s jaw clenches; he breathes out through his nose like he’s trying not to lose it. “Shit,” he whispers, voice low and reverent. “You’re fucking soaked.”

You whimper and he laughs quietly, leaning in until your noses brush. “That all from me?” he murmurs teasingly.

“You're so annoyi—” You can’t finish. His fingers drag along the damp fabric again, slow, deliberate. "Ahh, fuck."

“Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s what I thought.” He slips his fingers beneath the lace and your whole body jerks. “Jesus, sweetheart,” JJ breathes, sounding almost wrecked. “You’re dripping.”

Your breath shatters into pieces.

His fingers slide over your bare heat in slow circles, teasing pressure, not enough, never enough. You choke on a moan, hips twitching into his hand. JJ grins like he’s winning. “C’mon,” he taunts. “Where’s all that attitude now?”

You try to glare; it melts instantly as his fingers part you, exploring the slick mess he made of you. Your thighs clamp around his wrist. “JJ—”

His middle finger slides inside you.

Your breath completely leaves your body. Your hand flies to his shoulder, clutching, nails digging in.

JJ swears under his breath, the sound hot and ragged. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He pumps his finger slowly, watching your face, watching you fall apart on his touch like he’s been imagining this exact moment for years. His other hand cups your jaw, guiding your gaze back to him when you try to look away. “Look at me,” he murmurs, voice soft but commanding. “Don’t hide from me now.”

Your eyes flutter open.

“That’s it.” His thumb brushes your clit, gentle at first, then firmer when your knees buckle again. He chuckles, smiling wide “There she is. My little hater."

You choke on a sound that’s embarrassingly close to a sob.

“Too much, princess?” JJ whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Or not enough?”

“J—Jesus—” you breathe.

“Oh, it’s definitely not enough.” Without warning, he adds a second finger.

You moan — loud. Too loud. Your hand slaps over your mouth.

JJ pulls your hand away, gently but firmly. “No, come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I wanna hear you.” His two fingers pump deeper, faster, curling up just right, grinding his palm against your clit with every thrust. Your legs shake; you cling to him, breath hot and frantic against his neck. He groans softly at the way you cling. “You’re fuckin’ squeezing me, princess — look at you.”

Your forehead drops to his shoulder as pleasure coils hard and fast in your stomach. “JJ— I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice is a command wrapped in a whisper. “C’mon, princess. Give it to me.”

Your breath breaks. You’re so close you can’t think. His fingers are relentless, his mouth brushing your cheek, breath hot against your ear.

He presses a kiss under your jaw, slow and taunting. “Never thought I'd be making you cum, princess. Let go, sweetheart. Come on.”

That does it. Your whole body arches into him as heat crashes through you. You gasp, clutching his shirt like you’ll fall without him. JJ’s fingers keep working you through it — slower, deeper, coaxing every last tremor out of your body.

He watches you with something feral and hungry in his eyes. When your shaking finally begins to slow, his fingers slide out of you — gentle, careful, like he knows you’re overstimulated. You gasp at the loss.

The kitchen is quiet except for your breathing — fast, shaky, uneven.

JJ’s lips are still inches from yours when he finally lets out a slow, satisfied breath.

You feel his fingers brush your skin one last time before he gently slides his hand out of your shorts. You gasp, a little too loudly.

His eyes flick up immediately. He smirks as he zips your shorts for you, then buttons them slowly — deliberately — like he’s savoring every second of your flustered state. “Breathe, princess,” he says lightly. “You look like you just saw God.”

Your entire face flames.

He chuckles, tapping your chin. “You're so cute.”

You swat his hand away, though your arm is trembling. “Shut up.”

JJ takes one step back, chest rising and falling, trying not to look as wrecked as you. “Alright, I guess I should should go outside before anybody realizes how much you don’t hate me.”

"I— JJ— I didn’t—”

“Save it. We both know.” He places a quick kiss to your cheek and walks out the screen door like he didn’t just ruin you against a kitchen counter.

You whisper into the quiet “…holy shit."

You take a moment to steady yourself, then finally go outside. You try to act normal and sit down like nothing happened. You try to pretend your heart isn’t still pounding.

But JJ is leaning back in his chair across the fire pit, looking at you like he already knows he’ll win whatever game you’re playing.

You avoid his eyes like they’re lava.

At one point, you accidentally look at him. It's damn near impossible not to. You let a tiny smirk slip — just a twitch, barely there — because your brain flashes back to the kitchen.

Kiara sees it and she freezes mid-sentence. “What was that?”

You snap straight. “What was what?”

“That.” She points at your face. “You smiled. At JJ.”

JJ raises his brows, smug beyond belief. “Oh, I definitely saw it.”

“I wasn’t—no, I didn’t—” you stammer.

“Oh, you did,” JJ says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “You tried so hard not to, too.”

“JJ, shut up,” you mutter.

He grins wider. “Make me.”

"Now that was just corny." You throw your hands up. “I hate you.”

JJ laughs under his breath. “Princess, that is very bold of you to say considering—”

“JJ.” You warn him, eyes wide.

He ignores the warning. He looks you dead in the eyes, voice dropping just enough that you know exactly what he means, but the others only catch the tone. “That’s not what you were saying in the kitchen.”

Your soul leaves your body.

Kiara’s eyes go huge. “The kitchen?! I knew it. I knew something happened in the kitchen.”

Sarah gasps. Pope chokes. John B mutters “oh my god.”

You bury your face in your hands. “JJ, I swear—”

He leans back, victorious, stretching his arms behind his head. “Don’t worry,” he adds casually. “I won’t tell them everything.”

You WHIP your head up.

Kiara and Sarah scream “Everything?!”

You groan loud enough for the whole Cut to hear, while everybody starts yelling questions.

And JJ just sits there, smiling like he already knows the rest of the night is going to be torture for you…

…and fun for him.

Everyone else has drifted off to bed — doors shutting, lights clicking off one by one, the hush settling over the water like a blanket.

You slip out onto the dock alone, the boards cool under your bare feet, the air thick with salt and cricket buzz. You sit at the edge, spark a joint, inhale until your chest loosens.

Finally. Quiet.

You’re halfway through your second drag when footsteps pad down the dock behind you.

Of course.

“No invite?” JJ’s voice floats out of the dark, lazy and amused. He comes closer, hands in his pockets, that grin already warming the night.

“Don’t you ever take a hint?” You blow out smoke slow, pretending he’s annoying you. Pretending your pulse didn’t just trip over itself.

“Nope,” he answers for you, sliding down to sit beside you. Not touching, but close enough that you feel him in your bones.

There’s a long silence. Quiet water. The faint burn of the joint.

He’s waiting for you to talk and you know you’re not getting rid of him until you do. But you almost don't want to get rid of him.

Finally, you sigh. “Fine. I don’t… hate you.”

He goes still. “Yeah?” he asks, softly without a hint of cockiness.

You nod, your eyes fixed on the ink-black water. “Yeah. Happy? Maybe I did a little at first. You've always annoyed me, but I don't hate you.”

JJ lets out a short, shaky laugh — like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to say it. He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, staring out at the horizon. “Wow."

You flick ash off the end of the joint. “You gave me plenty of reasons to though.”

He huffs out a small laugh. “Yeah, well… I only teased you ’cause I liked you.”

You freeze.

He keeps talking, voice low, almost embarrassed. “Since day one. Swear.”

Your breath catches. “When was day one?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

You press your lips together, trying not to smile.

He smiles sideways at you, eyes drifting over your face like he’s replaying it in real time. “When you walked into the Chateau with Kiara,” he starts, voice low and warm. “Way before all the Royal Merchant shit. You weren’t even hanging around us yet — you just showed up for like two seconds, in that little floral dress, grabbed her sunglasses or whatever, and walked right back out like you owned the place.” He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “I said something stupid about her bringing a Kook to the Cut,” he admits. “And you flipped me off without even looking at me. Just— right over your shoulder. Like I didn’t even deserve a full turn-around.”

JJ does smile — soft, a little disbelieving. "And I swear to God I was like…” He shrugs, grinning. “…yep. That’s it. That’s the girl.”

You choke on smoke and shove his shoulder weakly, heart fluttering. “Shut up.”

“See? Still pretending.” His voice dips, warm and knowing. “And then you showed up in my classes that semester? God.” He laughs under his breath. “I was so excited. And not just to torture you, not yet.”

Your cheeks go hot. “You’re ridiculous,” you mutter.

“And you’re still avoiding the point,” he says softly, eyes fixed on you now. “Just… be honest with me.”

Your chest tightens. The dock feels too quiet. Too still. “…I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, voice thin.

“You don’t have to.” He nudges your knee with his. “Just tell me the truth.”

You inhale shakily, taste smoke and salt. And then — because you’re too tired to fight him, or because the dark feels safe, or because he won’t stop looking at you like that —

“I like you too. I have for a while.”

He shuts his eyes like the words actually hit him. When he opens them again, his voice is barely a whisper. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. You make my life exciting. Can't hate you for that."

He laughs softly, then catches your wrist, thumb grazing your skin. And for once, he doesn't look smug.

Part 2

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You stare at him and last night crashes back all at once — the kiss when you were playing truth or dare, him touching you in the kitchen, your confessions on the dock, what happened on the couch. How one kiss turned into too many. How at some point you ended up here, tangled together, exhaustion winning out right as the sun started to threaten the horizon.

You shift slightly and his arm immediately tightens around you. “Mmm—don’t go,” he mumbles, still half asleep.

Your heart does a very stupid thing that you're not yet used to. “I’m not,” you whisper.

His eyes crack open. Blue, sleepy, soft. He blinks at you like he’s making sure you’re real. Then he grins. “Oh,” he murmurs, voice raspy. “This is… new.”

You hide your face in his chest, suddenly shy. "Yeah, it is."

He moves your face back up to look at him. "You regret it?"

You quickly shake your head, smiling. "No. I don't regret anything. I'd do it again... do you again. And again and again..."

"Mmmm, me too," he laughs quietly, memories of last night flashing in his mind. He's still smiling like he can’t believe his luck.

"I'm just gonna say it. You have a really nice dick, by the way. Like... perfect."

He laughs and raises his eyebrows, shocked to hear those words leave your mouth. "Why thank you. I like nice you. A lot. Think I'll keep her." He leans in and kisses you gently. "And you have a really nice...everything."

You hum against his lips happily, kissing him back, practically melting against him.

He pulls back just an inch after a few moments. “This is all kinda funny.”

"Yeah, kinda really funny actually," you giggle in agreement.

He beams at you, then you both go back to kissing each other— gentle, slow, like you're in no rush. You smile into it, and when you pull away you don’t get far before he kisses you again.

"Wanna be like this all day."

Another kiss.

You laugh against his mouth. “I hate to say it but we probably shouldn't be cuddling when everybody wakes up. I'm way too hungover to deal with all the 'called its' and the squealing. And we should probably put some pants on.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, absolutely not moving, hand sliding down to grab your bare ass. “Definitely.”

Another kiss.

Another.

“JJ.”

“Mm?”

“Plan: I go sleep in the guest room,” you say, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “You stay here. We survive the morning without interrogation.”

JJ's face falls instantly.

“You know I’m right.”

He groans, flopping back against the couch. “I hate that you’re right.”

You both lay together, kissing on and off for another maybe ten minutes, then you slide off him reluctantly, already missing the warmth. "See you later, I guess."

He smiles warmly, reaching out to rub his thumb across the soft skin of your leg. "Later."

You pad quietly past Kiara and Pope, who are still sleeping on the couches in the living room. You go down the hall, slipping into the guest bedroom. They'd left that room open for the two of you in case things went the way that they expected. They did go that way but neither of you were going to give them the satisfaction.

The bed is cool and empty in comparison to the couch with JJ beside you. You flop down and hug a pillow to your chest.

It’s ridiculous. He got on your last goddamn nerves yesterday, and for years before that, and now you already miss him. You wish more than anything that you could be kissing him and cuddling until you both fell back asleep.

Your phone buzzes.

JJ: Is it weird that I kinda miss you already? Sweet dreams, trouble.

You giggle into your pillow.

You: Yeah, it's weird. I was just thinking the same thing tho. Night J

He runs a hand down his face in the other room, smiling like an idiot. He hearts the message and tries to go back to sleep.

You scroll up, reading your last text to each other from a few days ago, giggling at the difference in tone.

JJ: Was really cute how you "accidentally" bumped into me and spilled my drink last night

You: 🖕

JJ: I know you just wanted to be close to me its fine princess I liked it. Can't stop thinking about it. Should bump into me again sometime

You: In your dreams

JJ: Maybe😏

You don't go back to sleep, nothing but him on your mind, your hand maybe finding it's way into your shorts as memories of last night come back to you.

By mid-morning, you’re exhausted. Hungover, sore in that pleasantly distracting way, and running on about four or five hours of sleep.

You hesitate in the doorway for half a second before stepping into the kitchen.

Everybody's up, making their plates, being loud and chaotic as usual.

Then you see JJ, hair still a complete mess, elbows propped as he eats cereal straight from the box like he couldn’t be bothered to find a bowl. He looks up mid-bite.

Your eyes meet for just a second and something warm and stupid settles in your chest. You look away immediately, pretending to be way more interested in the fridge than you are. You can feel his grin without even looking.

You grab a plate and move around the kitchen, hyper-aware of him in a way that feels new. You try to act normal but you are absolutely not normal.

“So,” Sarah says suddenly, far too cheerfully, once everybody's sat down with their food. “Can we talk about last night?”

You stiffen.

“Which part?” Pope asks, innocent.

“The part where someone got dared to kiss the person they hate the most,” Kiara says, glancing between you and JJ. “And then didn’t stop when the timer went off.”

Everybody snickers. You cough and busy yourself with pouring coffee.

JJ shrugs, casual, smirking slightly. “Rules are rules.”

John B peers at you. “You know, JJ said something happened in the kitchen after.”

Your heart stutters. You don’t look at JJ. “He says a lot of things.”

“True,” JJ agrees easily. “I lie for fun.”

Sarah squints. “You’re both being weird.”

“Am not,” you say quickly.

"You're being weird," JJ adds at the exact same time.

You both freeze. Then don’t look at each other.

Conversation shifts, eventually, but the tension stays.

His knee bumps yours under the table. Accidental. Probably.

Then his foot slides up beside yours.

Slow. Deliberate.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling and push your foot gently against his.

He goes still for half a second — then continues eating like nothing happened. But he can't keep himself from flicking his eyes up to meet yours a moment later. And you can't help the way the corners of your lips twitch before you go back to eating your cereal.

Every time your eyes meet the next few hours, something dangerous sparks between you. A look. A half-smile. The kind of tension that feels like it might snap if you’re within five feet of each other.

So when Sarah grabs your wrist and drags you down the hall into John B’s room with Kiara right behind her, you know you’re screwed.

The door shuts.

Sarah crosses her arms. Kiara sits on the edge of the bed, watching you way too closely.

“Okay,” Sarah says. “What happened in the kitchen last night.”

You scoff. “Nothing.”

Kiara raises an eyebrow. “That was not a ‘nothing’ look JJ was wearing.”

“He always looks like that.”

“No,” Sarah cuts in. “He looked pleased.”

"Yeah and your face was so pink," Kiara adds.

You roll your eyes. “You’re both dramatic.”

They just stare at you.

Kiara leans forward. “Did you kiss again?”

“No.”

“And after you kissed, did something else happen?”

You hesitate for half a second too long.

Sarah gasps. “Oh my god.”

You groan. “Stop. Please.”

They immediately swarm you.

“Tell us.”

“Just tell us!”

“Was it hot?”

"Did you fuck each other?"

You cave with a sigh. “He—” You drop your voice. “Ok, he fingered me a bit. That’s it. Then he walked right out.”

They scream. Then bust out laughing.

“SHUT THE HELL UP,” you hiss, panic flaring, smacking them both with a pillow. “Do you want the whole house to hear you?”

JJ hears it through the wall of the bathroom the second he closes the door and his eyes widen.

Sarah slaps a hand over her mouth, eyes practically sparkling with excitement. Kiara looks like she’s about to explode. They lose it again.

“I need to pee,” you mutter, backing toward the door. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“You don’t even have to pee, liar,” Kiara accuses, still giggling maniacly.

You escape before they can interrogate you further.

The door of the bathroom is closed, so you knock softly, already regretting telling them anything.

“Occupied,” JJ’s voice answers.

The door opens a moment later and a grin spreads across his face the second he sees you.

“Well,” he drawls, leaning against the doorframe. “Hey, princess.”

Your heart trips.

You don’t even answer. You grab his shirt and pull him down into a kiss. It’s immediate. Intense. Like neither of you has been able to breathe all day.

JJ pulls you in the bathroom and backs you up against the sink, hands on your hips, mouth moving against yours like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. You kiss him harder, fingers curling into his shirt, every suppressed want from the morning crashing into this one second.

He pulls back suddenly.“Sorry. You probably gotta pee.”

“No,” you breathe. “I just needed a second. They're grilling me in there. I might've accidentally kinda told them what happened in the kitchen.”

"Oops." He laughs softly, then kisses you again — deeper, hungrier. His hands wander, yours do too, and for one reckless moment you forget where you are.

“OH MY GOD.”

You freeze.

JJ pulls back just as Kiara stands in the doorway, eyes wide, jaw on the floor.

“You said you were going to the bathroom,” she screeches.

“I am in the bathroom,” you snap weakly.

Sarah appears behind her. Then John B. Then Pope.

The house erupts.

“Called it! What'd I say, Pope?" John B yells.

Sarah smacks his arm, hard. “I called it years ago! I told you!"

Pope just stares like his brain short-circuited.

JJ only smirks, arm sliding easily around your waist.

“Well,” he says proudly, “guess the secret’s out.”

You bury your face in his chest, mortified.

But you don’t move away.

Eventually, reality creeps back in.

You sigh softly, tilting your head to look at JJ. “I should probably head home.”

He groans. “Already?”

“I start my new job at Heyward's tomorrow, need to rest up,” you remind him. "And uh, Sarah picked me up, I don’t have my car—"

“I can take you home," he says quickly.

You smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah." He's already standing. “Hold on.”

He disappears for a second and comes back holding his American flag helmet, holding it out like it’s something sacred.

“For you.”

You blink. “What about you?”

JJ shrugs. “You know I don't usually wear a helmet. And it's my only one. If your dad’s there—” He grimaces. “I’m not pullin’ up with you bareheaded. That man already hates me.”

You laugh. “He doesn't hate you. And please start wearing a helmet. Like, actually."

“Ok, ok, I'll start wearing one just for you, alright? And, uh, yeah he does,” JJ says seriously. “I'll get you your own soon. Like maybe a cute pink one or something."

"You don't have to," you smile, blushing a little. "I can get one."

"I want to. Here," he sets the helmet on your head, adjusting it carefully. “How's that feel? It fit?”

You look at him through the visor. “I think so. How does it look?”

He pauses, lips twitching. “Looks good,” he says softly, fighting his grin. “Looks adorable, actually.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away.

You grab your backpack before climbing on behind him, then wrap your arms around his waist. One of his hands comes. back briefly to rest over yours.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

The ride is smooth, quiet, intimate in a way you weren’t prepared for. The wind, the sound of the engine, the solid warmth of him beneath your hands — it all feels unreal.

When you pull into your driveway, your stomach flips when you see your dad out front mowing the lawn.

JJ slows to a stop, visibly tensing beneath you.

“Well,” he mutters, “this is where I die.”

You snort softly and climb off, pulling the helmet off your head. Your dad shuts off the mower, wiping his hands on a rag as he looks between the two of you.

He blinks. “Maybank?”

JJ straightens immediately. “Sir.”

Your dad studies the bike. The helmet. You.

“Huh,” he says. “Didn’t think I’d see this.”

You wince. JJ swallows.

“I appreciate you givin’ her a helmet,” your dad adds after a moment. “You should be wearin’ one too.”

JJ nods quickly. “Yes, sir. I just— uh— only got the one.”

Your dad hums, clearly not thrilled, but not angry either. “Fair enough.”

You hand the helmet back to JJ.

“I’ll see you later,” you say, trying hard to sound normal.

“Yeah, later,” he replies, just as casual, before adding "Good luck at work tomorrow."

"Thanks."

Then he smiles at you — small, private, just for you — before pulling the helmet back on and starting the bike.

JJ waves to your dad. "Nice to see you, sir."

He gives a short nod. “Drive safe.”

You watch him ride off until he disappears down the road.

Your dad's voice snaps you out of it. “You gonna explain that?”

You shrug. “We’re… cool now.”

He eyes you carefully, a little dissaprovingly. Very dissaprovingly. "Mm. Somethin' going on with him?"

"No."

He squints as if he can see right through you. God, you hate having a dad who's a cop.

You ignore it and quickly head inside, cheeks warm, heart racing, you can’t help smiling until your cheeks hurt.

The first week of you and JJ being together is… chaos. In the best way.

You hang out every day after work. Your friends don't stop talking about it, teasing the two of you relentlessly, saying how weird it is to see the two of you acting the way you are. Saying it feels illegal to see the two of you kiss.

You can’t keep your hands off each other.

Not at the Chateau.

Not on the dock.

Not leaning against trucks, boats, doorframes, or anywhere with even a second of privacy.

JJ’s always touching you — fingers hooked in your belt loop, hand warm at your lower back, thumb brushing your knuckles like it’s instinct now. And you match him, grabbing his hoodie, tugging him closer, kissing him whenever you think you can get away with it.

You continue to have the best sex of your lives.

"I'm never sleeping on the guest bed ever again," Pope groans one night as you and JJ walk back out into the yard, hair messy, giggling at each other.

JJ sits in the lawn chair beside him. "Probably shouldn't sit on the couch in the sunroom either. Or in the Twinkie."

You cover your mouth. Pope groans again. The girls bust out laughing.

John B buries his face in his hand. "Not the Twinkie!"

By the end of the week, he insists on taking you on a “real date.”

He saves up some gas and snack money doing odd jobs and borrows the HMS Pogue, loading it up with sodas, sandwhiches, bags of chips, a few beers and a boquet of sunflowers from the grocery store. He acts like this is the most serious thing he’s ever done. It's absolutely adorable.

You sit beside him as the boat drifts easy over the water.

You lean into him. He leans back. And then you’re kissing — slow at first, then deeper, familiar already. His hand finds your waist. Yours slides into his hair.

Then—

Another engine.

You both pull back just as a boat idles up beside you. Of course it’s Rafe Cameron.

He smirks immediately when he sees you. “Wow,” he drawls. “Y/N Y/L/N and JJ Maybank. Didn’t think you’d sink this low, Y/N.”

Your stomach twists. Rafe had always had thing for you. Your dad tried to push a relationship between the two of you but he was never really your type. He backed off once you started hanging out with the Pogues and you started learning more about who he really was.

JJ just lounges back, arm draped behind you like he’s got nothing to prove. “Hey, Rafe.”

Rafe’s eyes flick to JJ’s arm. His jaw tightens. “You serious right now?” he asks you. “Oh, your dad would love this. You're better than this, Y/N, come on.”

You scoff. “You don’t get to tell me what I’m better than.”

He sneers. “Hanging around Pogues? Making out with him of all people?” He jerks his chin at JJ. “Your dad literally arrested him.”

You laugh humorlessly. The words escape you without a second thought. "At least he doesnt kill people."

The air goes dead still. There’s a beat of silence. Rafe’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. His gaze snaps back to you the second the words leave your mouth.

"Wow,” he mutters.

JJ stiffens beside you — not angry, not scared — just suddenly very aware of you standing your ground like that. His arm tightens around your waist without him even realizing he’s done it.

"Have fun throwing your life away."

Neither of you reply. JJ's grip losens slightly and and your heart squeezes, realizing how Rafe's words might've actually affected him.

"Unreal." He shakes his head, starting the engine with more force than necessary. As it idles, he throws one last look over his shoulder — at you, not JJ. "Don't say I didn't warn you." Then he guns it, the wake rocking your boat as he pulls away.

Silence settles in after, broken only by the water lapping against the hull.

You turn to each other at the same time and break into soft, slightly hysterical, slightly nervous giggles.

JJ tries not to think about how he might be dragging you down but it keeps replaying in his mind.

"Anywaysss," you mumble, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"Anyways," he mumbles back, playing nervously with your fingers.

You look up at him. "Hey."

"What's up?"

"You're not throwing my life away, you know that, right? Nobody throws my life away but me," you smile softly. "And he's one to talk."

That earns a breathy laugh out of him. “Yeah?”

“I chose this. I chose you. You're one of the best things that's ever happened to me—which is so crazy to think about."

He shakes his head in disbelief, unable to fight his smile as something eases in his chest. "Feeling's mutual."

You press your lips to his gently, smiling against them. "Wanna go find somewhere more private and maybe fuck me on the floor of this boat?"

He pulls back to look at you. His eyebrow lifts, that familiar crooked grin slipping back into place. "I thought, you'd never ask."

You get home later than you meant to. The house is dark except for the kitchen light. Your stomach drops the second you see your dad sitting at the table, arms crossed, jaw tight. He doesn’t look angry in the loud way.

He looks disappointed. That’s worse.

“Hey,” you say cautiously.

He doesn’t answer right away. Just watches you like he’s trying to decide how to start.

“So,” he finally says, “you wanna tell me why Rafe Cameron felt the need to inform me that you were kissing JJ Maybank on a boat?”

Your blood runs cold. Of course Rafe did. You scoff before you can stop yourself. “You believed Rafe Cameron?”

“He didn’t sound like he was lying,” your dad replies flatly. “You do, though.”

You drop your bag, arms crossing defensively. “Why was he even talking to you?”

“I ran into him at the marina. He said he was worried about you.”

That alone makes your skin crawl. You shake your head. “I hate him. And he hates me. He's not worried! That's such bullshit!"

“All I’m asking why you’d put yourself in another situation like that. With Maybank.”

There it is. You sigh. “JJ isn’t—”

“No,” he cuts in. “I don’t want you seeing him.”

Your chest tightens. “Dad—”

“He’s trouble,” your dad continues, voice firm. “Always has been. That kid’s been causing problems around this town since he was twelve. Drinking, fighting, stealing—”

“He hasn't been stealing,” you fire back. “And you know half the stuff people say about him is exaggerated.”

Your dad stands, pacing now. “I’ve arrested him.”

“Yeah,” you say, voice rising, “after Topper Thornton’s boat sank — which he didn’t even do!”

Your dad stops. “He was involved.”

“You know what? Topper deserved it, actually. He jumped Pope for no reason with—guess who?— Rafe Cameron! Yep. And JJ was trying to keep Pope out of jail,” you snap.

Your dad turns to you sharply. “He’s tormented you your whole life.”

You laugh bitterly. “You think I didn’t give it right back?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Maybe I liked it,” you blurt out.

Silence crashes into the room.

You swallow, heart pounding, but you don’t back down. “Maybe I was having fun,” you continue. “Do you know what it’s like to be sheltered your entire life? To be watched and protected and warned about everyone? Things are finally exciting for once.”

Your dad exhales. “Exciting gets people hurt.”

“Or it gets people living,” you say, voice shaking now. “JJ is loyal. He would do anything for the people he cares about. He’s actually really sweet when he’s not trying to piss me off. Like, insanely sweet.”

Your dad scoffs. “Sweet doesn’t erase his record.”

“He wants to be better,” you say, eyes burning. “He literally said he wants to be better just so I’d like him. So you'd like him. You don’t think that means something?”

Your dad looks away for a moment, jaw clenched. “I still don’t like it,” he says finally. “And I don’t trust him.”

Tears well up before you can stop them.

“You don’t have to,” you whisper. “But I’m not a kid anymore.”

He looks back at you.

“I’m eighteen,” you say, tears slipping down your cheeks now. “I can do whatever I want. And I’m so tired of feeling like every choice I make needs your permission.”

His expression softens just a fraction — not approval, but fear. “I just don’t want you hurt,” he says quietly.

You wipe at your face. “I know. But you can’t protect me from everything. Especially not from feelings.”

The room is heavy with everything unsaid.

Finally, your dad sighs. “This doesn’t mean I approve.”

You nod, voice small but steady. “I didn’t ask you to.”

You turn and head toward your room, heart aching — but resolute. Because for the first time in your life, you’re choosing what you want.

JJ finds you sitting on a piece of driftwood at the boneyard the next day, where you'd planned to meet up. Your knees are pulled to your chest and you're staring out at nothing. One look at your face and his smile falters.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he says softly, setting down his backpack and stepping between your legs, heart beginning to beat a little faster. “What's going on? You alright?”

You huff a breathless laugh that doesn’t reach your eyes. “I'm fine I just—Rafe told my dad."

JJ stills. “Told him what?”

“About you and me.”

You nod. “They talked. And then my dad talked to me.”

Something hard flashes across JJ’s face — anger, guilt, fear — but he smooths it out fast, leaning back against driftwood like he’s not suddenly bracing himself. “…Of course he did,” he mutters.

You swallow. “He hates it.” You rush the next part out. “He says you’re trouble and you’ve tormented me my whole life and that he doesn’t want me anywhere near you.”

“And?” he asks, quieter.

“That’s not funny,” you snap, voice cracking. “He said you’ll just drag me down. Brought up how he's arrested you before.”

JJ lets out a short laugh. It sounds wrong. “Yeah,” he says lightly. “That tracks.”

JJ straightens then, jaw tight. “And what did you say?” He half expects you to say that you and him are done. That your dad and Rafe are right.

You meet his eyes. “I told him I like you a lot. That you’re loyal. That you’re actually really sweet.” Your voice drops. “That you were trying to be better. For me. And for him.”

JJ’s throat bobs. He looks away for a second, rubbing the back of his neck. “You didn’t have to say all that.”

“I wanted to,” you say. “Because it’s true.”

Silence stretches between you.

“He say you can’t see me anymore?” JJ asks, carefully.

Your heart twists. “He says I shouldn’t.”

JJ nods slowly, like he expected it. “Yeah, figures,” he says. “Maybe—I dunno—maybe he's right."

You reach out, grabbing his wrist before he can pull away, concern suddenly all over your face. “Don’t do that, JJ.”

“Do what?”

“Decide for me.”

His eyes snap back to yours. “I’m not—”

“You are,” you insist. “You’re already backing off.”

JJ exhales sharply. “I don’t wanna be the reason your dad's disappointed in you,” he says. “I don’t wanna screw up your life.”

“You’re not screwing up my life. I told you, I'm the only one who can do that. You’re the first thing that’s actually felt like mine.”

That lands. JJ swallows. He stares at you for a long moment, something vulnerable cracking through the bravado. “You really went to bat for me,” he says quietly.

“Of course I did.”

He sits down beside you. “I don’t wanna lose you,” he admits. “But I don’t wanna make things harder for you either.”

You lean your head on his shoulder. “My choice, JJ. So far you've only made things better."

“God,” he mutters, staring down at you. “I have zero idea what I did to deserve you.”

You look up at him, smiling faintly. “Tormenting me for years was really the way to my heart, I guess.”

He snorts, thumb brushing your cheek.

"Nobody's gonna keep me away from you, JJ."

He smiles wide, but can't hold it for long. “Your dad’s still gonna hate me.”

“Probably.”

JJ grins then, softer. “Guess I’ll just have to be so good he doesn’t have a choice.”

You laugh, leaning into him. “Good luck with that.”

“Worth a shot." He kisses you gently, relieved, but still a little on edge. Then he pulls back suddenly. "Oh, hey! I got you somethin'."

You blink. “What?”

JJ reaches into his suspiciously full backpack, pulling something out and holding it up between you.

It’s a motorcycle helmet — white, glossy — covered in pink hibiscus flowers.

You stare at it. Then you laugh, breathless. “JJ… are you serious?”

He shrugs, trying (and failing) to play it cool. “Figured you should have your own. And, uh… saw this one and thought of you.”

Your chest tightens. You take it from him, fingers brushing over the flowers. “I love it,” you say immediately. “I love y—it. So much. It's perfect."

His smile breaks wide and genuine. “Yeah?”

You nod, then lean forward and kiss him — quick but full of everything you don’t know how to say yet. When you pull back, your eyes are bright. “Thank you so much, JJ. My dad can hate you all he wants,” you tell him softly. “That doesn’t change anything. ”

JJ swallows, then presses his forehead to yours. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not goin’ anywhere. Promise."

Two weeks later.

You’re sitting in a lawn chair, your friends talking loudly around you, phone pressed to your ear, smiling wide at the sound of JJ's voice.

“Swear to God, it’s just the carb,” JJ says. You can hear metal clanking in the background, his voice breathless. “I’ll be a little later than I thought, okay? But I'll be there, promise. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” you giggle. “Just don’t die.”

He snorts. “For you? I’ll try.”

"Ok, see you soon. Good luck. Bye."

"Bye, Princess, see you soon."

You hang up feeling warm—happy in that fragile, new way that still surprises you.

You weave through the crowd toward the counter when someone says your name.

You turn. It's some guy you know from school. You remember him. Not well, but enough.

“Hey, Y/N,” he says, smiling too wide. “Didn’t know you were coming tonight. Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you say politely. "What's up? How you been?"

He keeps talking. You nod, respond when you have to, your eyes drifting toward the living room where Kiara and Sarah are dancing. You’re trying to find an excuse when he gestures toward the counter.

“You getting a drink? I can grab it for you.”

You hesitate—then shrug. “Sure. Thanks.”

You watch him pour it. You don’t think anything of it.

Halfway through your drink, which you've been drinking way too fast out of boredom, the room tilts. Not spins—tilts. Like the floor isn’t quite level anymore.

Your stomach drops.

“You okay?” he asks, suddenly very close.

“I—” You swallow. “I feel… weird.”

Concern flashes across his face too fast to be real. “Hey, it’s loud in here. Let’s get you somewhere quieter.”

Your dad’s voice echoes in your head. Never accept a drink that's already open. Never go somewhere alone. Once you get where they're taking you, you're screwed.

You shake your head, trying to step back, but your legs don’t listen the way they should.

“I—no, I’m fine—my friends are over—"

“It’s okay,” he says, hand at your elbow now. “Bathroom’s right there.”

Panic flickers, sharp and bright, but it’s wrapped in fog. Your thoughts won’t line up. You want to scream. You want to call JJ. But there's nothing you can do.

The bathroom door opens. The light is too bright.

This isn’t right.

He turns to shut the door—

—and it slams open instead.

“Get the fuck away from her.” JJ’s voice is raw. Terrifying.

The guy barely has time to turn before JJ is on him—hands fisted in his shirt, slamming him back into the wall. The sound of bone hitting tile makes you flinch.

“JJ—” you whisper, knees buckling.

He catches you without looking, shoving you behind him like a shield as his fist connects again. Once. Twice. The guy crumples to the floor, unmoving. You do the same as JJ holds onto you, lowering you, leaning you gently against the vanity cabinets.

Your vision swims. His face is the only slightly solid thing in the room.

He crouches over your limp body, knuckles bloody, chest heaving. Then he snaps out of it. “Oh my God,” he says, voice breaking. “Hey. Hey, baby. I got you.”

He takes your phone with shaking hands and lifts it to your face to unlock it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I gotta— I gotta call him.”

JJ has never called a cop in his life until now. He steps into the hallway, voice low, wrecked.

“Sir—this is JJ Maybank. I’m with your daughter. She was drugged. Someone tried to—” His voice cracks. “I stopped it. Please. Please come.”

JJ is pulled aside, questioned, hands still shaking.

The house is chaos minutes later. Cops. EMTs. John B and Pope are comforting JJ, who's trying desperately to hold it together. Kiara and Sarah are hovering over you, fighting tears.

“Self-defense,” one officer says quietly after hearing the story. “Defense of another.”

JJ blinks and nods once, still a little in shock.

Your dad arrives like a storm. He sees you first—pale, unconscious, but alive—and then he sees JJ. Bloody knuckles and terror written all over his face. For a long moment, your dad just stares at him. Then, quietly “Thank you.”

He nods back. “They’re taking her to the hospital.”

The guy is loaded onto a stretcher too—alive. Detained.

JJ ends up at the station for a statement.

Later, your dad pulls up in his patrol car. “Get in,” he says.

JJ hesitates, then swallows. “Front or—”

Your dad snorts despite himself. “Front seat, Maybank.”

JJ doesn’t know whether to laugh or apologize.

The ride is quiet at first. Heavy.

Finally, your dad speaks. “You put yourself in dangerous situations.”

“I have, yes, sir,” JJ says immediately.

“But tonight,” your dad continues, “you saved my daughter from one.”

JJ nods, jaw tight. “I’d do it again.”

Your dad exhales. “Just… keep it in line. Don’t be the reason she gets hurt.”

“I won’t,” JJ says. “I swear.”

It's silent for another moment.

JJ feels a hand grip his shoulder tightly.

"But seriously, son, thank you."

His eyes immediately fill with tears. "Anytime."

At the hospital, you’re awake but hazy. When JJ walks in, your eyes fill instantly. “Hey,” you whisper. "There you are."

He’s at your side in a second, forehead pressed to yours, hands gentle like he’s afraid you’ll break. “I’m here,” he says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your dad watches from the doorway and for the first time, he doesn’t want pull you away. Because tonight, JJ Maybank wasn’t trouble. He was the reason you’re okay.

The hospital room is dim, the overhead lights turned low, the only sound the steady beep of a monitor and the distant squeak of carts rolling down the hall.

Your dad leaves after the nurse does, lingering in the doorway longer than usual.

“You’re okay?” he asks again.

You nod, giving him a small smile. “I promise.”

JJ swallows. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes flick briefly to JJ—sitting in a chair at the edge of the bed. “Call me if anything changes,” your dad says. Then, softer, to JJ “Thank you. Again.”

The door clicks shut and for the first time all night, it’s just the two of you.

"Come here," you whisper, scooching over and patting the spot next to you.

He crawls in the bed with you, tucking an arm carefully around your waist like he’s afraid to hold you too tight.

"Hey," you smile up at him.

"Hey, pretty girl." JJ shifts, brushing his thumb over your wrist where the IV had been. “How do you feel? Really.”

“Tired,” you admit. “Kind of floaty. My head’s still fuzzy.”

He nods. “They said that might happen.” His voice drops. “You scared the hell outta me.”

You turn toward him. His eyes are rimmed red, exhaustion and adrenaline still clinging to him.

“I’m okay,” you say softly. “Thank you, JJ. So much.”

He shakes his head immediately. “I should’ve been there sooner.”

“JJ.”

He looks at you.

“You were there when it mattered.”

His jaw tightens, emotions fighting to stay contained. “I’d never let anything happen to you. Ever. I don’t care what I have to do.”

You reach up, resting your hand against his cheek. “I know," you say, voice gentle. “And now my dad knows too.”

That finally breaks him. He lets out a shaky breath, forehead dropping to yours. “You have no idea what that means,” he murmurs.

“I really do.”

"I'll do everything I can to prove to him that I'm good enough for you," he says, trying to believe the words himself. "Swear to god."

You giggle. "I think keeping me from getting—" you aren't sure you want to finish that sentence, still extremely shaken. "—what you did tonight was a pretty good start. And I know you're good enough for me, I think that's way more imporant."

He nods, tears threatening his eyes. "Y/N."

"Yeah?"

“I love you,” he says. Like it surprises him as much as it does you.

You don’t hesitate.

“I love you too.”

You smile softly. “Yeah.”

His breath catches. He looks at you like the world just shifted under his feet. “Yeah?” he asks, barely audible.

You burst into giggles and punch him in the arm. "Jesus christ, more than ever, JJ. But, if you ask me that one more goddamn time, I might."

"Cool." He kisses you slowly, carefully—like he’s savoring it, like he’s grounding himself in the fact that you’re here and alive and his. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours again. "So... still sure you don't hate me anymore?"

"My bad," he smiles. "So you opposite of hate me now?"

"Yes," you roll your eyes, but cant help but smile back at him. "I opposite of hate you now."

He smiles even wider. "I opposite of hate you too."

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩⋆✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩𖦹⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You scoff but can't help but smile. “Don’t get used to it.”

He bumps his knee against yours. "Hot."

You smirk and stand first, brushing dock dust off your shorts. “You comin’ or you just gonna sit there flirtin’ with me?”

"Bossy," JJ snorts as he stands. “Definitely my favorite version of you.”

You flip him off over your shoulder the way that you had the day you met, already turning toward the path back to the house. He shakes his head in disbelief, maybe a little bit in love.

The sunroom is quiet, moonlight filtering through the windows. You flop down on the couch while he disappears into the house for his rolling tray, staring up at the ceiling with a breathy laugh.

You and JJ Maybank.

You’re still smiling to yourself when he comes back, dropping down beside you with an easy sprawl. He sets the tray on his knee, tongue peeking out slightly as he starts rolling, focused and weirdly cute.

You snort softly. “I kinda can't believe this is happening.”

He glances up, smirking. “What, you mean you willingly sittin’ next to me?”

“Us,” you correct. “Like... you know what I mean. Come on.”

JJ hums. “Yeah. Didn’t have that on my bingo card either.”

You swing your legs over his lap without thinking. His hands come up automatically, settling around your calves, thumbs pressing warm and solid into your skin. The contact sends an unexpected wave of heat through you, and you bite your lip to keep from reacting.

He notices anyway.

The joint gets lit, passed back and forth. Comfortable. Easy. His fingers stay right where they are, grounding and possessive in a way that makes your stomach flip.

“Remember when you threw my fishing pole into the marsh?” he says suddenly.

You grin. “You called me a spoiled Kook.”

“Still accurate.”

"There's spoild-er, ok?" You laugh, nudging him with your foot. “And honestly, we’d probably be struggling if it weren’t for the money my mom left behind. She owned a business. When she died, that’s where most of it came from — not some trust fund thing. She worked herself into the ground. We’re basically living off that."

JJ’s expression softens instantly, the teasing slipping away. “I remember when that happened," he says quietly. "I didn't torture you for like two months."

"Yeah," you laugh. "I remember. That's when I realized maybe you weren't a complete asshole."

He laughs softly and then his face goes back to being serious. “I’m really sorry that happened. That’s… actually really impressive of her though.”

You glance down, smiling faintly as you think of her. “Thanks.”

“I’ll never call you a Kook again.”

You laugh, nose crinkling. “I appreciate that.”

"You think you'll be like her? Start a business?"

You nod. "I've been thinking about it. Let me know if you have any ideas."

"Yeah, I'll let you know. I do know a few people who'd probably be happy to work for you. Or with you."

"True," you laugh, nodding again.

He smiles a genuine, way too adorable JJ smile and you pass the joint back in forth in a comfortable silence.

“Kinda concerned about your dad," JJ mumbles suddenly.

You glance at him. “What about my dad? I don't care what he thinks.”

JJ sighs dramatically and shakes his head. “He's a cop. He’s gonna arrest me on sight once he finds out we're...whatever we are.”

“He's not gonna arrest you," you say quickly through laughter. "He doesn’t need to know. Not for a while. Gives you time to become a model citizen.”

JJ straightens. “You’re right. I’ll never break the law again.”

You deadpan. “Yeah, ok. You’re literally breaking the law right now, genius.”

He pauses before correcting himself. “…Okay. I’ll never get caught breaking the law again.” He smiles wide, proud, and it makes you giggle helplessly. He watches you for a second longer than necessary.

Silence settles again, but it’s loaded now. JJ’s fingers drift, tracing slow lines along your thigh. The touch is light, almost absentminded — and it feels way too good.

You lick your bottom lip unconsciously as you exhale smoke.

His gaze locks onto you. His fingers move a little higher.

You blow out another breath, softer this time. “What?” you ask, smirking when he doesn’t look away.

He shrugs. “Just thinkin’.”

“About what?”

He tilts his head, eyes dark with something unmistakably flirty. “Lots of stuff. Us... how pretty you look right now...”

Your cheeks heat instantly.

“Especially..." he adds casually, looking away, almost nervous. "... especially how pretty you looked in the kitchen earlier."

You shake your head with a breathy laugh, suddenly unable to keep eye contact.

"The way you were lookin' up at me. Never seen you look at me like that. All submissive.”

You bite your lip and groan, dropping your head back. “I hated how much you turned me on. Hate admitting it right now.”

He grins, giving you a sideways glance. “You loved it.”

You hesitate, then sigh, a little shaky. “Yeah. I did.”

His smile turns smug. “I know.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”

He leans in just enough for his voice to drop. “I felt it.”

Your breath stutters.

His fingers catch on the strings of your cutoff shorts, tugging them gently, teasing. You have to actively fight your eyes from fluttering shut. “JJ,” you warn softly.

He chuckles. “What, Princess?”

Before you can think, you grab his shirt and haul yourself forward, mouth crashing into his, kissing him hard.

It’s messy and laughing and hot all at once, your tongues brushing, lips biting, both of you smiling into it like you can’t believe you’re allowed to do this now. His hands slide to your hips, squeezing, grounding you as you shift fully onto his lap.

He lets out a low sound when you grind against him, hands tightening reflexively.

“I'm not gonna be able to keep my hands off you now,” he murmurs against your lips. "Just warning you."

“Then keep them on me,” you whisper. "I like your hands a lot if you couldn't tell."

He groans happily, kissing you harder, leaning you forward to put the joint out in the ashtray on the table behind you. He lifts you with ease and lays you back against the couch, hovering over you, mouth still on yours

"Want you to touch me again," you whisper. "Wanna touch you too this time."

"Yeah?" he laughs, hand immediately sliding down your body and undoing the button on your shorts. "Think we can make that happen."

You undo his belt and do the same.

When your hand slides into his boxers and you wrap it around him, both of your breaths hitch for different reasons.

"Fuck," he breaths, mouth hanging open a little as his forehead presses against yours.

"Yeah. Fuck." You smirk up at him, eyes wide, "I don't wanna make your ego any bigger but uh..." You begin to stroke him softly, feeling his length. "Damn."

"Yeah?" He laughs proudly, sliding his hand into your panties the way he had earlier, fingers gliding through your slick folds, groaning when he feels how wet you are.

"Mmmm, yeah," you whimper. You chew on your bottom lip before leaning your head back with a loud moan as he pushes two fingers into you. "JJ, fuck."

"Love when you say my name like that," he says through his teeth as you begin to stroke him faster, matching the pace of his fingers, making his eyes flutter shut. "Oh, my god, baby."

You giggle between high moans, hips jerking up against his hand. His hips jerk down against yours.

He kisses you deep, nipping at your bottom lip before he has to pull back to catch his breath, the feeling of your hand twisting around his dick and the sounds that you're making completely wrecking his focus.

“Jesus,” he mutters, breath uneven, forehead still pressed to yours like he’s grounding himself. His fingers move faster, curling just right, hitting that perfect spot.

“JJ,” you squeal, keeping your voice low enough not to wake anyone in the house, head tipping back against the throw pillow. “I— I want your dick in me. Oh my god, please.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, groaning as you stroke him faster, your thumb swirling through the precum at the tip. “You sure?”

“Pleeease,” you whine quietly, not caring how pitiful you sound begging for him — then can’t help but giggle. “Would’ve fucked you earlier after the way you touched me in the kitchen, but you kinda just… left me there.”

"Oh yeah?" He chuckles breathlessly. “And I know. I’m such an asshole. Sorry.”

You press your lips to his with a smile. “I forgive you. Just take your pants off.”

He nods quickly. “Yes, ma’am.”

You both get completely undressed at lightning speed. JJ drags his gaze over your body under the moonlight with a groan, clearly turned on beyond belief, before grabbing the blanket balled up at the end of the couch. He climbs over you, pulling it over the two of you just in case someone were to wake up.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers, hand groping your breast before wandering down your stomach, to your thigh, between your legs for a moment, your hip, slips it behind you to firmly grab your ass.

You giggle, biting your lip and wrapping your legs around his waist.

He smiles and reaches down to line himself up, rubbing the tip against you slowly, like he’s giving you time. His eyes flick back up to yours, making sure that you haven't changed your mind. You nod, breath shaky, and he pushes in carefully, the sensation knocking the air out of both of you.

“JJ,” you whimper as he moves impossibly slow. He has to.

“Goddamn,” he mutters under his breath. “You’re tight. Fuck.”

All you can do is look up at him, bottom lip between your teeth, fingers curling into the couch. He pauses instantly.

“You okay?” he asks, quiet now.

“Yes,” you manage, barely above a whisper.

When he finally settles fully inside you, neither of you moves. You just stare at each other — mouths parted, brows pulled together — like you’re both trying to process it at the same time. He stays still, giving you a moment to adjust, then leans down and kisses you. Not rushed. Not slow. Just deep and disbelieving, like he can’t quite believe this is real.

He starts moving again in small, gentle motions, forehead dropping to your shoulder as his arms wrap around you, holding you close.

"Fuckk. Baby." he breathes.

“It feels so good, JJ,” you squeak. “So good.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “It does.”

As your body adjusts around him, his movements grow more confident, his breathing rougher, a low sound catching in his throat against your neck. You cling to him, nails digging into his back like you’re afraid he’ll stop if you let go.

“Oh my god—J—ah!—"

"Shoulda" thrust "Shoulda done this" thrust "Sooner. Fuck."

"Gonna have to fuck me all the time to make up for it — ah! Shit shit shit, JJ!" You let go of him and curl into his chest, whimpering quietly as he holds you to him, plunging into you rougher and deeper than he had been.

"Oh, I will, Princess. Promise you that," he says shakily, grinning wide at the sound of you coming undone beneath him.

You begin to moan so loudly and uncontrolably that he has to gently cup a hand over your mouth. "I know, baby, I know," he murmers, forehead resting against yours. "God, you sound so fucking pretty. Gotta be quiet for me though, ok? Can you do that for me?"

You nod, trying your hardest to keep it down.

"Goood girl," He brushes his thumb across your cheek in praise. Then teasing smirk flickers back, soft but unmistakable. "You still hate me, Princess?"

You shake your head, letting out a sound against his hand that's a mix between a giggle and a whimper.

"Good." He presses a tender kiss to your forehead before pounding into you even harder. "Shit. Takin' my dick so good, sweetheart. You're so fucking perfect. Could fuck you just like this all night."

You hum at his praises, every word pushing you closer to the edge.

He removes his hand from your mouth when he feels you begin to shake against him. "You gonna come, baby?"

You nod. "Y—yeah. So close."

"Me too. Where do you want it, pretty girl?"

You hesitate only a second. “Inside,” you whisper. “I’m on birth control.”

Relief flashes across his face. “Thank god.”

He slams into you relentlessly, not breaking eye contact, holding you steady as the feeling crests for both of you at once.

As soon as he feels you tighten around him he covers your mouth again and lets go, shoving himself as deep as he can go as he fills you. "Y/N, fuck, that's right, come all over this dick, baby, I got you, I got you."

You whine against his hand, eyes fluttering shut, head tilting back.

Your hips rock against each other slowly, grinding so that he's as deep in you as possible. You come harder than you ever have in your entire life, practically spasming underneath him.

He slides his hand off of your mouth and kisses you, deep and wet and messy. You pull back to look at each other as the final waves of pleasure roll through you.

You snort softly, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah... damn.”

For a few seconds, neither of you says anything, then JJ finally lets out a breathy, disbelieving laugh, lifting his face from your shoulder, still inside of you. "Shit."

He smiles down at you, eyes a little blown out, hair damp and sticking to his forehead. “Why did we ever pretend we hated each other?”

You smile back, lazy and dazed. “I think we were idiots.”

“Idiots,” he agrees, grinning, brushing your hair out of your face. “That was… really good.”

You nod, cheeks warm. “Yeah. Like... dangerously good.”

His thumb traces an absentminded line along your side, like he can’t stop touching you even when he’s exhausted. “We’re in trouble,” he murmurs.

You laugh softly, leaning in to kiss him, slow and full of warmth instead of urgency this time. It doesn’t stay that way for long.

The couch creaks beneath you as you shift closer, whispers and quiet laughter filling the space between kisses. His hands explore , grabbing, squeezing, rubbing, while yours do the same, neither of you ready to stop now that you’ve started.

You fuck each other until words dissolve into murmurs and halfformed praises, sentences trailing off into breathless nonsense as the night stretches on.

Eventually, exhaustion catches up with you both. Your shirts are on, having thought that you were done half an hour ago, only to be sucked back into each other.

You press your forehead to his, leg over his hip, voice soft and sleepy, him still inside of you. “Stay. Just… fall asleep like this.”

He smiles, slow and tender, kissing you deeply one last time before resting his sweaty forehead against yours. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Goodnight, JJ," you smile, eyes fluttering shut.

“Night, Princess,” he murmurs back, arms tightening around you as the world finally goes quiet.

Part 3

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