Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader
Word Count: ~2,700 words
Trope: Strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, found family, etc.
Vibe: Sun-drenched and salt-crusted OBX summer, domestic fluff, emotional healing, and golden hour comfort
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Author's Note: I got the inspiration to write this after squeezing the goo out of my stress ball. Also, I'm seeing Louis Tomlinson in concert, so I of course had to link THE song for this blurb. Enjoy 🙃🍋
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The hum of the marsh was the only thing keeping the silence company until the distant, aggressive whine of a two-stroke engine tore through the morning air.
You were standing at the end of the driveway, squinting against the glare of the 10:00 AM sun as you helped your little brother Leo adjust his “Grand Opening” sign. The dirt bike appeared like a golden blur against the salt-scrubbed horizon, kicking up a rooster tail of sand before sliding to a precise, stylish halt right in front of your house.
The rider kicked the kickstand down, killed the engine, and pulled off a battered helmet to reveal a mess of blonde hair and a grin that looked like it belonged on a wanted poster. He was a Pogue through and through–faded board shorts, tanned skin, and eyes the color of the shallow water off Figure Eight.
“Well, look at this,” he drawled, leaning his elbows on the handlebars. “A literal oasis in the middle of the desert. Is the lemonade cold, or am I just hallucinatin’ from the heat?”
Leo’s jaw hit the gravel. He wasn’t looking at the boy; he was looking at the bike with the intensity of a diamond thief. “Is that a Yamaha? Did you bore out the cylinder? How fast does it go? Can I touch the exhaust?”
The boy barked out a laugh, his eyes flicking to you for a second–lingering just long enough to make your pulse jump–before he focused on Leo. “Whoa, slow down, Captain. Yeah, she’s a Yamaha. She’s fast enough to outrun the deputies, and no, don’t touch the exhaust unless you wanna lose a finger. I’m JJ.”
“I’m Leo! This is my stand. We’re raising money for my own bike.”
“Noble cause,” JJ said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill and slid it across the wooden pallet. “Give me the biggest cup you got, Leo. And keep the change. Consider it an investment in a fellow rider’s future.”
As Leo frantically poured the drink, JJ looked back at you, his smirk softening into something a little more curious. “And who are you? The CEO or the muscle?”
“The one who makes sure he doesn’t drink all the profits,” you replied, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “I’m Y/N, Leo’s sister.”
“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, taking the cup and raising it in a mock toast. “I have a feeling I’m gonna be a regular customer.”
—————————————————————————————————
The honeymoon phase of the lemonade stand had officially collided with reality. Two weeks in, JJ had become a permanent fixture–showing up daily to trade stories with Leo and stir up trouble with you–but the “business” side was struggling.
The sky was the color of a bruised plum, the kind of heavy, pre-storm heat that made everything feel fragile. You were halfway to the grocery store, the back of your sedan loaded with empty crates and the last of your sugar, when the car lurched violently to the right. The sound of rubber shredding against asphalt was the final straw in a week that had already felt like an uphill battle.
You pulled over onto the sandy shoulder, staring at the shredded remains of your front tire. The humidity, the lack of sales, and the looming weight of being the only one holding Leo’s word together finally broke you. You sat on the bumper, the hot wind whipping your hair into your face, and dialed the only person who had spent the last fourteen days convincing you that Pogues looked out for each other.
“JJ?” your voice cracked, and the first sob escaped before you could stop it. “I’m on the side of the road. I have a flat, and I don’t have a spare, and I… I can’t afford a tow, JJ. I can’t do it today.”
“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe for me,” JJ’s voice came through the line, sharp and immediate, stripped of its usual bravado. “Where are you? Tell me exactly what you see.”
“Near the old bait shop. Everything is breaking, JJ. I don’t have the money for this.”
“Listen to me,” he said, and I could hear him shouting for John B. in the background. “You aren’t payin’ for a damn thing. You hear me? The Pogue Roadside Assistance is already on the way.
John B. is bringing the Twinkie with the floor jack. Stay in the car, lock the doors, and stop doing math in your head. I’m comin’ to get you.”
True to his word, the van roared into view ten minutes later. JJ was out before it even stopped, running toward you and pulling you into a hug that smelled like salt and gasoline.
While John B. silently got to work on the tire, shaking his head at the bad luck, you looked over at Leo sitting on nearby grass. He was a picture of absolute heartbreak, his chin tucked into his chest, aimlessly picking at the weeds.
“We’re never gonna get it,” Leo whispered, his voice small and watery. “The car’s broken, the lemons are gone… we’re gonna have to use all my bike money just to fix the wheel, aren’t we?”
The guilt hit you like a physical blow, but before you could find the words to comfort him, JJ was already there. He dropped into a crouch in front of Leo, ignoring the grease on his shorts and the dirt on his hands. He didn’t offer a pitying look; he caught Leo’s gaze with a sharp, conspiratorial spark in his eyes.
“Hey, look at me, Captain,” JJ said, his voice dropping into that low, steady tone he reserved for the important stuff. “You see that van? You see John B. fixing that tire? That’s what we call a minor setback. And Pogues? We eat setbacks for breakfast.”
Leo sniffled, looking up. “But the money…”
“Forget the money,” JJ said, reaching out to ruffle Leo’s hair so roughly it made the kid giggle despite himself. “I’m gonna tell you a secret, but you gotta keep it under your hat. Sometimes, when things look dark, that’s just the universe clearing space for something better. You’ve been putting in the work, Leo. You’ve been a man of your word at that stand.”
JJ leaned in closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear. “I promise you, on everything I own–which isn’t much, but still… you’re gonna be on two wheels sooner than you think. You and Y/N both. We take care of our own, alright? You’re part of the crew now.”
Leo’s bottom lip stopped trembling, replaced by a tiny, hopeful frown. “Really?”
“I don’t lie about bikes, buddy… never.” JJ stood up, hauling Leo to his feet with a grin. “Now, let’s get this junker back to the Chateau. I think I have some old stickers in the van that would look killer on a fender. What do you say?”
You watched them–the boy who had been a stranger three weeks ago and the little brother who was your whole world–and for the first time in days, the air didn’t feel quite so heavy. JJ looked back at you over his shoulder, a quick wink telling you that whatever he had planned, he meant every word.
“I’ll pay you back,” you whispered into his chest later, once the car was secured. “I’ll give you every cent from the stand.”
JJ pulled back, his hands firm on your shoulders. “You aren’t giving me a damn dime, Y/N. We’re Pogues. We don’t bill each other for being family. Now, dry those eyes. Management’s takin’ over.”
—————————————————————————————————
Two days later, the walk home from school felt like a trek through wet cement. The humid air clung to your skin, and Leo’s backpack dragged against the gravel, his usual chatter about gear ratios replaced by a heavy, contemplative silence. Your car was still at the Chateau–John B. had claimed the rim was “more bent than a Pogue’s luck,” which seemed like a stretch for a flat tire, but you didn’t have the energy to argue.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket.
JJ: Hey, Y/N, change of plans. I’d pick you guys up, but I’m currently… uh, embroiled in a very serious situation involving a rogue crab and a pair of lost keys… it’s high stakes. Kie is on her way.
You stared at the screen as a tired, disbelieving laugh escaped you. “A rogue crab, Leo. He’s officially lost it.”
Kie pulled up a few minutes later, her expression a mix of forced casualness and a poorly hidden smirk. “Hey! Sorry about JJ–he’s being, well… JJ.”
“I figured,” you sighed, buckling Leo into the back. “Is he actually okay? Or did he finally decide to live under a pier?”
“He’s fine,” Kie said a bit too quickly, humming along to the radio as she took the corners toward our house with purpose. When you finally pulled into your gravel driveway, the Twinkie was already parked there, along with JJ’s Yamaha.
“Wait… is John B. here?” you asked, frowning as you hopped out. “Is my car done? I don’t see it.”
“Only one way to find out,” Kie said, practically ushering us toward the backyard. ”Go on, Leo. Check the perimeter!”
As you and Leo rounded the corner of the house, you stopped dead. JJ and John B. were standing in the center of the grass, looking like two kids who had just pulled off the heist of the century. They were flanking something tall and bulky, covered entirely by your favorite woven blue blanket–the one usually draped over the living room sofa.
“What is going on?” you asked, your heart drumming against your ribs. “JJ, why is my mom’s blanket in the dirt?”
JJ stepped forward, his eyes bright and focused entirely on Leo. “Hey, Captain. Remember what I said the other day? About the universe clearing space for something better?”
Leo nodded slowly, his eyes wide as dinner plates.
“Well,” JJ said, his voice softening with a rare touch of vulnerability. “I’ve had this tucked away in a shed for a long time. It was my first real love. My old man didn’t give me much, but he gave me this, and I spent every cent I ever earned keeping it alive. I think it’s time it went to someone who actually appreciates a good heart.”
JJ grabbed the edge of the blanket and whipped it away.
It was a vintage red Honda 50. It was pristine–the chrome polished until it gleamed in the afternoon sun, the engine block scrubbed clean of years of grime. It was JJ’s childhood bike.
Leo didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe for a solid five seconds. Then, a small, choked-up sob escaped him as he bolted forward, throwing his arms around JJ’s waist. “You’re giving it to me? For real?”
JJ’s breath hitched, and he looked over Leo’s head at you, his expression so raw it made your throat ache. He ruffled Leo’s hair, his hand shaking just a little. “It’s yours, kid. Debt paid in full.”
You stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes stinging. “JJ… that’s… that’s your bike. You loved that thing.”
“I love seeing him not look like he lost his best friend more,” JJ replied, giving you a quick, shy wink before turning back to Leo. “Alright, enough mushy stuff. John B., get the toolkit. We gotta show the Captain how to prime the pump.”
The rest of the evening was a golden blur. While the boys crouched in the grass, you and Kie took over the back porch. The two of you fired up the grill, the smell of charred burgers and marinated chicken mingling with the scent of pine and gasoline.
“He’s been working on that bike since the second you called him about the flat,” Kie whispered, flipping a burger and glancing at the scene in the yard. “He stayed up all night at the Chateau. John B. had to practically pry the wrench out of his hand at 4:00 AM so he wouldn’t wake the neighbors.”
“I can’t believe he did all this,” you murmured, watching JJ patiently show Leo how to grip the handles. “I was worried about sixty dollars, and he… he just solved everything.”
“That’s JJ for you,” Kie smiled. “He doesn’t have much, but what he has, he gives. Especially to his main squeeze.”
You laughed, crossing your arms and looking out at JJ before he catches your eye. “Oh, god… not the lemonade humor making a return.”
“Hey, Kie! Less talkin’, more flippin’!” JJ shouted from the yard, his face smudged with grease. “The Captain here is burning calories just thinkin’ about gear shifts!”
“Keep your shirt on, Maybank!” Kie yelled back, though she was grinning.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, the burgers were served on paper plates on the porch steps. We ate with our hands, laughing as Leo described his “first official ride” (which was really just JJ walking him in a circle).
Eventually, the shadows grew too long. You hauled a very grimy, very exhausted Leo inside. JJ followed you in, standing awkwardly in the doorway of Leo’s room as you tucked him in.
“JJ?” Leo asked, his voice thick with sleep. “Can I ride it to school tomorrow?”
“Let’s stick to the backyard for a week, buddy,” JJ chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “Don’t want the local PD thinkin’ there’s a new outlaw in town.”
“Okay,” Leo whispered, his eyes already closing. “Thanks, JJ… you’re the best.”
JJ’s expression softened into something so tender it nearly broke you. “Get some sleep, kiddo.”
When you and JJ stepped back out onto the porch, the world was quiet. The sky was a deep, bruised purple, and the only light came from the small amber glow of the porch lantern. John B. and Kie had slipped away while we were inside, leaving the yard still and peaceful.
JJ sat on the top step, his elbows on his knees. You sat down next to him, your shoulders brushing slightly. “You’re a good man, JJ Maybank.”
“I’m a Pogue with a toolkit, Y/N. Do not get it twisted,” he joked, but his voice lacked its usual bite. He turned to look at you, his gaze dropping to your lips before meeting your eyes. “I just… I couldn’t stand seeing you so damn stressed. And seeing your brother look so defeated? That… that sucked. I wanted you guys to have a win.”
“You gave us way more than a win,” you whispered, reaching out to lace your fingers with his.
JJ’s thumb traced circles over your knuckles, his expression turning serious. “I’ve been thinkin’ about that lemonade stand for weeks. Not the drink, just… the girl standing behind it. I think I was looking for an excuse to stay since the first day I slid that five-dollar bill across the wood.”
“I’m serious, Y/N. I’m not great at the feelings talk, but you… you’re my main squeeze.”
You couldn’t help but giggle, covering your face with your hoodie sleeve and looking away from him. “Would you qu–”
“Nope… not a chance,” he says, cutting you off just as you did to him.
Looking back at him and those ocean blue eyes, you could tell he wasn’t joking. Which, for someone like JJ Maybank, doesn’t happen very often.
“For real?” you said, your heart slowly lulling in your chest.
He closed the distance then, his lips meeting yours in a slow kiss, one that tasted of salt air and relief. It was the answer to every question you’d had since the first time you heard his bike roar down your street.
When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours as a soft laugh escaped him. “So… does this mean I get a discount on the lemonade now? Or are we in a friends and family kinda bracket?”
You smiled, pulling him back in by the collar of his shirt. “Management will have to consider it.”
