⋆✴︎˚you’re in bed, reading a book while enjoying the sun on your skin that is pouring through your windows when you hear two knocks on your window. you sit up in bed, heart already racing, because you know that sound. jj only knocks like that when something is wrong. you rush to the window and pull it open.
“jj?”
he’s standing there on the roof, swaying slightly, face bruised and bloody. one eye swollen, lip split, nose still bleeding. he tries to smile.
“hey, baby,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “can i— can i come in?”
“oh my god, jj,” you breathe, grabbing his arms and pulling him inside. “yes, of course. come here, come here.”
the moment he’s in your room, he stumbles, and you catch him by the shoulders.
“i’m fine,” he mutters.
“no you’re not.”
you guide him to the bathroom, flicking on the light. he flinches at the brightness.
“was it your dad again?” you say looking into his eyes as he looks away. you hum in response leaving a soft kiss to his head.
you pat the counter and tell him to sit as you grab a washcloth, warm water and peroxide.
“you don’t have to—” he starts.
“yes i do,” you say, voice firm. “let me take care of you.”
you step between his swaying legs, gently tilting his chin up a little.
“this is gonna sting baby,” you whisper.
he swallows and nods, putting his hands on your hips.the moment the warm cloth touches his cheek, he winces, sucking in a sharp breath and squeezes your hips.
“sorry…” he murmurs.
“shhh it’s okay.”
you continue to clean his cuts as you whisper sweet things to him.
“you’re doing so good.”
“i love you.”
“you’re safe with me.”
“i’ve got you.”
jj’s breathing gets uneven.
“hey,” you say softly, brushing his hair back. “look at me.”
his eyes are full of tears.
“i’m sorry,” he whispers.
“for what?”
“for showing up like this. for being a mess. for— for being needy.”
“jay jay.” you say softly, cupping his face gently. “you can always need me. i’ll always be here for you.”
his shoulders shake first. then his breath stutters. he folds forward, burying his face in your chest, arms wrapping around your waist.
“i’m sorry,” he chokes. “i’m so fucking sorry.”
“shh,” you whisper, holding him tight. “you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“he— he just—” jj’s voice breaks. “i didn’t even say anything this time. he just—”
you press a kiss to the top of his head.
“you’re safe,” you whisper. “you’re safe with me.”
he sobs harder, fingers gripping your shirt.
“don’t let go,” he begs.
“i won’t,” you promise. “never.”
you guide him off the counter and onto the bathroom floor, sitting with your back against the wall, pulling him into your lap. he curls into you, shaking, crying into your chest while you stroke his hair and kiss his forehead, his temple, his bruised cheek.
“you didn’t deserve this,” you whisper. “none of it. not ever.”
jj sniffles, voice small. “it hurts.”
“i know, baby,” you murmur, kissing his swollen eye. “i know.”
“can i stay?” he whispers. “just for tonight?”
“rather you stay forever.” you say with a little smile.
he lets out a broken laugh, then hides his face again. you hold him until his breathing slows, until the shaking stops, until he melts against you completely.
“you’re too good to me,” he whispers.
“you deserve good,” you say simply.
he leans his forehead against yours.
“i love you,” he says, voice raw. “i don’t— i don’t know how to say it right, but i do. i love you baby, so much it scares me.”
you lean in and kiss him gently.
“i love you too.”
he exhales shakily.
“let’s go lay in bed yeah?”
he nods.
you help him up, guide him back to your room, and tuck him under your blankets. he pulls you in beside him immediately, arms around your waist, face pressed into your neck.
and you stay awake long after he falls asleep, running your fingers through his hair, watching his chest rise and fall, promising yourself you’ll protect him the way he’s always protected everyone else.
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SUMMARY : jj broke up with you two months ago, but this one party makes him truly realize what he’s done.
WARNING(S) : swearing, jealous and super drunk jj, a little angst, fluff, minimal use of y/n (like once), might have some grammar errors, english is not my first language
A/N : first fic on here heheh obv inspired by 'hits different' by taylor swift. i recommend listening to it while reading :) dividers by @roseraris !! not proofread dont kill me
WC : 1.7k
masterlist.
After a fourth beer, the party got too loud and the lights too bright. Normally, in a moment like this, he would run to you, wrap his arms around you, and inhale your sweet, calming scent. Just as he’s about to do it, the realization hits him like one of the waves nearby.
You aren’t together anymore.
He sharply inhales and looks around. His vision is softly spinning, but it’s no problem for him. JJ spots you in a second. With another boy.
You two are just talking. You don’t even know this guy, he came up to you to ask about something so random it got lost in your chat long ago. You give him one of those kind smiles, and JJ feels his fists clench. “Fuck.”
The music changes. As if he wasn’t already miserable, the speakers let out the first notes of your song. The one he first kissed you to. The one you two always played, alone at the chateau dancing on the back porch.
The memories flood his mind, and he can’t take it anymore. Jj feels his heartbeat loud in his ears, and he wants to leave. To go to any of the pogues, or, even better, drive away in the Twinkie. But his eyes cannot move from your face, and his legs just don’t work.
It baffles him. Not once in his life, he couldn’t move on. But this time, with you, it's different. It hits different.
You finally catch him. The guy is still talking to you, but your attention is on the other side of the beach. Before you can interrupt, you see John B. coming up to JJ. He tells him something, grabs his arm, and leads his best friend somewhere. You feel your heart sink. “Are you okay?” you hear the guy ask, making you turn your head.
“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” you quickly say, leaving him alone. You have to find JJ.
“Dude, stop this shit right now,” John B.’s holding the steering wheel, making his way to the Chateau. JJ's taken the passenger seat, shoulders slumped, and he runs his hand through the blonde strands.
"Yeah, easy for you to talk." he snarls, "You and Sarah are all happy together, you don't know how it's like-"
"I don't know because I don't just randomly break up with my girl over a bad day I had." John B. cuts him off and lets out a deep sigh. "JJ, you should talk to her. Everyone's done. You are constantly miserable."
JJ doesn't say anything. The words hit him like a slap, unnecessarily hurtful. Outside the window he sees the familiar place - they are at the Chateau.
"Get some rest, okay?" John B opens the door and helps JJ get in the house. "Call me in case something happens."
The blonde nods his head and plops on the couch, legs stretched out. Minutes pass, and he finds himself whispering your name, over and over again, as if he's scared he'll forget it.
His mind still replays that cold May night.
You two agreed to meet at the dock. The wind softly overflowed your face as you were waiting for him. When he finally came, you felt something was wrong. His usual smile was gone, and he didn't even look at you. You hugged yourself in your hoodie, "JJ? Is everything alright?"
He let out a shaky breath, leaning over the railings. "I think we should break up."
You blinked in surprise, your heart feeling heavy. "What?"
Your voice sounded smaller than you intended. You reached out for his hand, your own shaking.
"It will be better for both of us." JJ dismissively said, swallowing hard. A shiver ran down his body, and his throat tightened, but he brushed it off.
You felt so much hitting you. Tears burned under your eyelids, and anger started to bubble up. Did you do something? Or maybe he just decided you weren't good enough for him anymore?
"No," you whispered at first, but your voice was growing louder, "You don't get to just... just decide on my behalf!"
The moonlight fell on his face, and you tried to find any answers in his eyes. He stiffened, shaking his head before he repeated, "It will be better if we end it now."
You opened your mouth, but not a word came out. The tears threatening to fall finally flooded your face, a quiet scoff escaping your lips. "I can't believe this. This is how much it meant for you?"
You were met with silence. The atmosphere on the dock could be cut with a knife, and you couldn't just stand here. Before you registered it, your legs led you down, far from your boy- well... ex-boyfriend. JJ's eyes followed your every step. He wanted to run after you, to wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But he didn't.
It wasn't just a one-day whim he had. It stuck with him ever since you two decided to make it official. It grew with every late night you spent not on something you like, but on cleaning him up after another fight. You didn’t say anything—but he knew. He knew that sooner or later, it will be too much. He will be too much to handle.
The sweetest girl walking on the earth, a literal angel and him. A failure, a Pogue whose fate it was to end up just like his father—always drunk, always angry.
His heart ached at this thought. You had so many opportunities, and if you decided to let it go because of him, he would never forgive himself.
Breaking up before he got even more attached was for the better. It had to be. Right?
JJ doesn’t know how long he’s been lying like this. His breathing is now steady and slow, and he has to remind himself to breath in again.
He closes his eyes, but can’t escape you. The memories come fast—not giving him much time for defense.
Your face. Always in the sun, glowing as if you were a goddess. The lips glossed from the cherries you’ve been eating. Your eyes, the creases forming in the corners almost constantly from smiling.
Your touch. All these quick brushes, the way you traced your soft fingertips over his forearm every time you sat nearby. The long, tight hugs during which JJ’s hands wrapped your waist, him hungrily inhaling your perfume.
His breath hitches. Is it truly the best this way?
Before he can answer, the quiet crack of a key opens the door. He darts up and immediately regrets it, as the whole room starts spinning.
“JJ?” he hears a soft whisper, and his heart skips a beat.
The warm lights of the Chateau reveal your face. He feels the heat rising to his cheeks, “What are you doing here?”
His voice is quiet, almost as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. You step closer, with a cautiousness that kills something inside him. He avoids your gaze, staring at the suddenly interesting floor.
“You’re not doing great, huh?” you say, but there’s no mockery or anger in your voice. There’s just… worry.
JJ turns around on his heels and sits down on couch, fearing that if he stands for a minute longer, he might just fall. He runs a hand through his hair, a habit that intensified over the two months.
“Stop it, Y/N.” he finally replies looking at you for the first time. The light reflects of his watery eyes, and his voice breaks when he continues, “Go back to the party and your new stupid little boyfriend.”
Your eyes widen. “Are you fussing over me talking to a guy after you broke up with me?”
JJ shakes his head, looking at the floor again, “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore, I guess. You really should go—”
“Why did you end this?”
The question feels like an arrow through his heart. You’re standing with your hands crossed, not planning on going anywhere. “Why, J? We were happy. Did I do something…?”
“It wasn’t you.” In the response, he hears a snort.
Your gaze is heavy, with your eyebrows arched up. “Classic. Then what was it, JJ?” The tone of your voice is pushing, and you don’t even try to control it, “What happened that you decided to just leave me?”
“I was scared!” he snaps before he can think of anything better to say. “How do you imagine it? You… you can’t suffer with me forever. It’ll break you one day and—”
“JJ.”
The way you say his name pulls him out of the spiral. It slips off your tongue smoothly, just like it used to. You grip his arm, and JJ forgets what he was even talking about.
“You don’t get to make this decision without talking to me. Did you ever asked me how I feel about this?”
A blush creeps up on his cheeks, and whether you want it or not, the corners of your lips rise.
He tries to make any sense, the tears dangerously close to falling. “I mean— You deserve someone better. Someone who will keep you safe and… I’m not that person. And I don’t think I’ll ever be.”
You sigh. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone better, baby. I want you. That’s my decision.”
With these words, with what you called him, his walls crash. You pull him closer, your bodies touching and he can’t take it anymore. JJ lets out a muffled sob into the crook of your neck, gripping you like he’s never letting you go.
Your fingers find their way up to his hair, running through the golden strands as he’s shaking.
“I’m sorry.” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry. So sorry—”
“Shhh,” You draw small circles on his back, and his breath slows down after some time. “We will talk about it tomorrow, ’kay? You’re super drunk right now.”
“Promise you won’t leave.” JJ sniffles, the tip of his nose pink. You giggle, but he pulls away to look at you, a serious expression on his face. “I’m not joking! Promise me you’ll still be here in the morning. Please.”
You gently squeeze his shaking hand and can’t help but smile. “I promise.”
SUMMARY - it's clear as hell you and jj can't take anything seriously when a make-out turns into some serious gossip time
WARNINGS - kinda smut. oral (fem receiving). lil bit of nipple play. someone almost walks in on them near the end. highkey it's all just shits and giggles with a hint of sexy shit.
WORD COUNT - 4.8k
╰┈➤ There’s something gratifying about the feeling of the sun finally hitting you after escaping the gruelling 8-hour torture of a classroom. Relief encouraged by the way your boyfriend genuinely glows in the daylight, mentally and physically—satisfaction clear as anything. There’s something about the way he lights up even more when you mention you have an empty house for the next few hours and that he can come over. And there’s definitely something about the way he kisses you like a man starving on a tropical island—and you just so happen to be the greasiest junk food you could ever imagine.
“Fuck, JJ, watch your foot,” you snort as he rolls you over on your bed and a socked foot accidentally whacks the lamp on the bedside table. It teeters for a moment, dizzy and riled up.
He only hums, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth. His hands roam your waist and tits leisurely—taking his sweet ass time like he already knows exactly what he’s going to do to you. “Not sorry,” he mumbles into your mouth, tugging your lip like the tease he is and grinning like an idiot.
You grab his hair and yank his head back slightly so he’d release your lip, his pupils blown and chest rising fast. And then, just because you can, you tweak his nipple over his tank top. He hisses and jerks, then laughs, batting your hand away.
“Bitch.”
“Asshole,” you retort, surging back up for another kiss. You lick into his mouth, slowly grinding up into him. A sound escapes from the back of his throat as he pulls away to attack your neck instead.
He clutches your face with one gentle hand, tongue playing with your pulse just below your jaw. And the way he moves his hips—slow, sinuous. Raillery if one had to put a word to the way his technique weaves in and out of the tease that he is and the need to just absolutely devour. Your eyes flicker shut, mouth parted, breath quiet. Blunt nails rake through blonde locks, scratching his hair just the way he likes—the way that makes his toes curl and his spine shiver. The sound of a contented groan vibrates against your skin, deep and soft.
The afternoon sun drapes through the half-open curtains, the house quiet besides the rustling sheets and the light tap of a squirrel hopping over the roof.
It’s lazy. Routine. Your bed has seen more make-out sessions than literally every room in both his and your homes combined.
There’s a moment where he moves back to kiss you properly, smile light and subconscious. He looks at you, just for a second, blue eyes like clarity found on a fall evening. You stare back, an awkward snort threatening to escape you because otherwise the reality of something real and raw would bubble up to the surface. And both of you have silently agreed that talking about feeling just made things more complicated in the grand scheme of things.
He only grins wider, dopey and cocky and downright sexy. His lips find yours again, lightly calloused fingers gliding over your hips and waist.
Tranquillity thrives in moments like these, a calming blanket to comfort you on those hard days at home when neither parent came back with grocery money for the week and you were stuck living off scraps and free school meals for the next seven days. A warm embrace on the days when JJ snuck through your window in the dead of night littered in multicolours and dripping all over your bathroom floor—the smell of weed and whiskey pungent in the air. You hope it never ends—serenity in its rawest form.
Your phone buzzes and you roll your eyes, actively ignoring it.
“Don’t even think about answering that or I’ll personally send the frickin’ FBI to your aunts house in Philly telling them she’s a terrorist,” JJ mumbles calmly, wet lips dragging over the skin of your jaw.
“Wha- I wasn't even going to, bitch,” you snap as he licks the lobe of your ear. “Ugh, that’s so weird, stop. That’s my ear.”
He smirks. “Yeah, which is connected to your face, which is connected to your body, which is connected to-”
You shove him hard before he can finish his vulgar sentence. Dramatic as always, he tumbles halfway off the bed, hanging upside-down with his hair brushing a long forgotten bronzer palette.
“Classy, real classy,” you muse, leaning up on your elbows to poke at the skin showing from his raised shirt.
He flashes you a sarcastic thumbs up, otherwise unmoving. “Kook potential right here,” he agrees, resting a hand on yours for the briefest of seconds before he launches back up. You let out a yelp of surprise as he tackles you onto your back again and pins you to the mattress.
“Ah—what the fuck?”
A pleased look washes over his features despite his movements being a little sluggish. “Shit, hold up, feels like I’m spinning.”
“Bro, just stop talking and come here,” you snort, leaning up to recapture his lips with yours.
The kiss starts sloppy—all tongues and teeth—but slows with each passing minute. You’re all breathless and toes curling. You can taste the peppermint gum he’d been relentlessly chewing during last period. His hand finds your neck, his thumb pressing against your pulse as though to check you’re just as affected by this as he is. He kisses you like you’re delicious and he wants to savour your taste for as long as possible with every languid swipe of his tongue.
And then, right in the middle of it all—you have a thought. A really really stupid thought that has you laughing between the kissing and drawing a gasping breath when he pulls away confused.
“What the hell you laughing at? Do I taste like Cheetos or somethin’?” He furrows his eyebrows and yet his lips are curling up into a smirk anyway.
“Nah-” you giggle, shaking your head as you roll both of you over so you’re on top instead. “It’s just…” You can’t help but snort, grinning like you’re drunk with your hands splayed over his chest. “I just remembered something that happened today.”
JJ shakes his head, clasping a big hand behind your neck and tugging you back to him. “You punch an 8th grader again?” he hums, placing chaste pecks along your jaw.
Hysterical laughter bubbles in your throat but you manage to compose yourself enough to speak. “Nah, you know that Lucas kid in the grade below us?”
The sprinkle of kisses pauses briefly, cogs in his brain whirring to life. “Uh, the skinny ginger one?”
“Yeah, him,” you giggle as his hands brush over your ribcage to hover over your tits. He squeezes gently and it makes you shiver, your own palms burying in his hair again. “Um- Yeah, I found him with Ms Henderson, you know, the geometry teacher.”
This time he has to totally stop what he’s doing and look at you properly. “Who?” he frowns.
“Oh my god,” you roll your eyes at his lack of care for literally anything to do with school and its prison workers. “The old one who has like crazy hairy armpits. You know, she wore that stupid green tank top last year before spring break.”
He blinks and then his expression morphs into one of amused recognition as you instinctively start rocking against him. He sucks in a quick breath, eyes rolling back a little with that smug smile of his that purely radiates ‘I’m gonna fuck you so good after this’ energy. “Mmm… Aw fuck, yeah. What about her?”
“Well…” you snort, the hands in his hair detangling some loose strands idly. In response to this, he licks his lips and leans in to press some kisses to your collarbone. “I-” You can’t stop laughing again. “Oh fuck, I can’t,” you wheeze, rolling off of him for a second to catch your breath—lips shiny and red, and cheeks flushed from making out. Your chest heaves as you try to maintain some semblance of sobriety.
JJ groans loudly, sitting up to chuck his shirt off. He loses it to the huge pile of clean and dirty clothes alike strewn across your bedroom floor. “Get to the point, bro.”
“I’m trying,” you scoff, rubbing at your ribs where it’s starting to hurt from all the cackling. JJ takes one of your wrists to pull you up so he can slip your hoodie off of you, leaving you in just a bra and a pair of denim shorts. You aren’t phased, your movements coordinated with him in a way that’s so subconscious it’s like your minds are connected in simultaneous thought.
He drops the hoodie to the floor and it lands on an empty glass that tips over, the sound muffled by the fabric. Neither of you glance at it as he clambers on top of you again, giving you a long and lingering once—okay, twice—over.
“Okay,” you smirk widely, your cool hands plastering themselves over his strong stomach when he leans down to continue his path over your collarbone with his mouth. “Okay, I’m good, I’m good. What I was going to say was that I found Lucas and Ms Henderson in the boys' locker room at lunch, right? And- And- Ha! And they were like going at it, dude. Like- Like fucking… fucking.”
JJ freezes at your confession, pulling himself away from your neck in surprise. “No way,” he gapes, disbelief clear in his features. “You’re fucking lying. That’s…” He imagines it for a moment before a delirious laugh escapes him. “That is legendary.”
“I swear to fucking god,” you cackle. “Her tits were like fully out. And she was moaning like an old lady who got hit by a truck.”
He lets out the most insane-sounding laugh ever, burying his face in the pillow by your head. “Oh my god, stop-”
You can barely breathe as you continue. “And- And- Even her fuckin’ nipples were hairy, like genuinely I just- It’s so bad. She’s so bad. There’s no way you’re grooming a 16-year-old with those assets, man.”
JJ dissolves in a fit of manic laughter, punching the mattress and shaking with the effort of trying to breathe at the same time. “Jesus Christ- I know she’s the top as well.”
“Don’t worry, hair anywhere near my chest freaks me out so I got you, bro. I shave and it’s a win-win for both of us,” you snicker, arms and legs splayed out like a starfish with him still on top.
“Good one,” he snorts, shifting so his face is now hovering over your bra. “And now that’s my excuse to like totally ravish the shit out of these as a reward for your heroic duties,” he grins up at you, fingers sneaking behind your back to unhook the bra.
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as the last of the laughter finally escapes you, back arching up to allow him to remove your bra. It pops off and he’s quick with sliding down the straps. His eyes dart up to look at you, smiling devilishly, hot breath fanning over your left nipple. “I got you, ma,” he mutters before his tongue drapes over the bud and knocks the air from your lungs.
Sparks of pleasure heighten that ever-building tension in your lower stomach, fingers weaving through blonde locks. Half-lidded, he still somehow manages to catch glimpses of your expressions as he switches from one breast to the next, licks turning to lewd suckles and warm massages. You let out quiet gasps and gentle moans that turn him on to like crazy levels. “Fuck, I like that,” he hums. “Keep making those pretty noises f’me.”
There are three minutes between that and the second bout of contagious cackling that possesses him out of nowhere. A soft pop—nipple falling from his mouth—and his forehead lands in the valley between your tits, shoulders shuddering with uncontrollable giggles.
“Dude,” you whine, smacking the back of his head lightly. “You ruined it.”
JJ tries to contain himself helplessly. “It’s your fault for telling me that story about Ms Henderson…” he snorts, tapping his forehead gently against your solar plexus. Tufts of his hair tickle your collarbone and you squirm.
“JJ,” you complain but you can’t help smiling at his giggles—the infection plaguing you almost instantly.
“Sorryyy,” he laughs, his hands resting on your stomach. “I swear I was really into that. I’m just- I can’t stop picturing her in that damn tank top…“ He hiccups a little with dying chuckles, the muscles in his shoulders contracting with the effort. “You so killed my boner with that story.”
Another roll of your eyes. “Okay, that’s such a lie. I can literally feel it on my thigh, you perv.” The words are accompanied by a small scoff and a buck of your hips up into his erection to which he releases a high-pitched gasp.
“Illegal move, ma,” he hisses, sending a sarcastically mean look up at you.
“I’m sure the image of Ms Henderson’s hairy pussy is enough of an apology for you,” you grin innocently and continue to do so when his expression turns horrified.
He shakes his head and lets out a distressed groan, collapsing fully on top of you. “Why would you put that picture into my head?” You’re too busy being crushed to answer.
That stupid smirk grows against your chest as his next words spill from his soft lips. “Gotta focus real hard on how sexy you are to forget that one, ma.” His warm fingers trail over your bare sides, drawing silly and incomprehensible patterns.
The atmosphere calms down for but a moment before JJ suddenly lifts his head to contemplate something briefly. Very briefly because a few seconds later, he’s slanting his head down to press two overly dramatic ‘apology’ kisses to each of your nipples with an exaggerated mwah! sound that makes you ugly snort.
“Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t ya?” you muse, ruffling his hair which makes his eyes flutter shut and a pleased smile appear on his face.
“Only for you, honey bunches.”
You flick the side of his head and he wetly licks the underside of your breast in retaliation. Before you can complain though, he’s carving out a pathway through soft kisses down your stomach. He pauses at your naval piercing, examining the glittering silver for a moment before giving it its own long wet lick.
“Ew, JJ, what the hell?” you snort, shoving his head away playfully.
He just glances up at you with that lopsided grin that makes the inside of your chest squeeze. “Sorry, breh. You know how sexy that shit is.”
A tyre squeals in the distance, the sound echoing through the streets and drifting through your slightly ajar window. Easy to ignore when reckless driving is basically a rite of passage to live anywhere in the Cut.
“C’mon, tell me a story, Jay,” you snort as his lips chastely press into your hipbone where a tattoo of the North Star sits. “There’s no way you don’t have a memory of some crazy time you walked in on someone.”
Teeth to skin, he nips at your inner thigh, nudging your legs wider with his chin. “You seriously want a story? What, like somethin’ sexy to get you off while I do this?” He licks a long stripe over the clothed apex of your thighs, rough denim catching his tongue. The button pops softly, his fingers deftly pulling the zip down.
You hum, arching your back slightly. “Nah, just- Somethin’ funny? I don't know.”
He squints up at you, the sun streaming through the window and blinding him a little. “Funny?” he muses, tugging your shorts down. You’re quick to shimmy and kick them off. You jolt slightly when he puts his lips to the fabric of your panties, teeth dragging up. Then down.
Soft breaths escape you and you can feel his demeanour grow even more cocky. The ego of a thief who gets away with it even though everyone knows it was him. “Mm, I could tell a story but that’d distract me from my second favourite part of you,” he hums, his index finger dipping between the line of your underwear and your inner thigh. Surface-level wetness coats the back of his finger and he smiles wider. “Or, I could like tell you about that time Kelce hooked up with a Touron on Topper’s mom’s bed.”
You’re caught between shivering at the feeling of him brushing his knuckle across your pussy and gasping in genuine surprise at the sound of JJ’s story. “Wha- Hm! You’re fuckin’ lying.”
“Me? Lie? Never,” he smirks, gently coaxing your underwear out of the way so he can see you properly. He makes a little noise at the sight, leaning forward to tease you with his teeth. “Swear down, I’m being so serious right now,” he mutters less enthusiastically than he normally would with a stupid story like this, his focus mostly on your pussy.
Finally, he makes an experimental lick across it, one hand splayed over your stomach—idly playing with your piercing. You let your head fall back onto the pillow, eyes closed and hand flying back to his wild hair again. “God,” you murmur as he fully gets into it now, tongue circling your clit with an inane sense of curiosity and fascination.
“Mm, ‘nd you know how I know?” he mumbles against you, muffled slightly.
You blink, momentarily forgetting what he’s on about. Lifting your head to look at him, you feel yourself grow unnecessarily wetter at the sight of him between your legs, totally focused on your clit yet still somehow continuing the conversation. “Um… What, how?”
He sucks lightly on that bundle of nerves and you pull in an almost pained breath. And he’s still fucking yapping. “Walked in on Kelce like full on butt-ass naked, bro,” he chuckles, enthusiastic kisses spanning down to your fluttering hole and then back up again. He pauses the story for a moment when he glances up at you still watching him with your mouth slightly ajar. “You want my fingers too, ma?”
A shiver swallows your spine and you nod quickly to which he’s immediate in his response, index finger tracing the outline of your hole while his thumb presses down on your clit. He hums some song that was on the radio earlier, playing about with your pussy for a bit longer before pushing two fingers all the way in. Your jaw locks and your hips buck. “Fuck, yeah, like that,” you pant slightly, pads of your fingers massaging the crown of his head.
Soon, he’s pumping them in and out of you, tongue lapping over your clit eagerly. “Could swear,” JJ muffles into you, still fucking going on with his fuckass story, “the girl was like…” He trails off to concentrate on curling his fingers up into that one spot that makes you clench and whimper lightly. “She like totally had a strap-on.”
You screw up your expression from both pleasure and disbelief, swinging your head up again to look at him agape. “What?” you gawk, eyes wide. “No fuckin’ way? Was it pink? Was it big?”
He snickers at that, massaging that spongey spot inside of you that has your thighs tensing around his face. He seems pleased by this, not replying briefly while he sucks back onto your clit again, tip of his tongue glazing over it in a way that almost tickles and teases you at the same time. You let out a strangled moan.
“Definitely over 8 and a half inches,” he hums.
Snorting, you squint at him weirdly. “How the hell do you know what 8 and a half inches looks like?”
At this, he marginally pulls his face away, breath still puffing over you, chin shiny with your slick. “Baby, you’ve seen my dick,” he says like that’s an obvious explanation.
Your expression is incredulous. “You are not 8 and a half inches,” you scoff with an air of hilarity dripping into your voice. His response is a bite to your thigh that makes you squeal.
“I’m like 3 centimetres off it!” he retorts indignantly.
“Why the fuck- Did you measure it with a ruler or some shit?”
He stays silent, basically answering for you.
“Oh my god, you did, didn't you?” you smirk, poking his cheek where that deep dimple usually surfaces. “You’re such a freak.”
“You want me to stop?” he pouts, jerking his fingers inside you to emphasise his point. “Stop being mean to me, mama. It’s so not hot.”
“JJ,” you groan, hips squirming. “C’mon, that’s not fair.”
A kiss lingers on your clit. “Just tryna distract me from how close you are,” he mutters. “Be a good girl and ask nicely.”
Laughter sinks its fangs into your throat despite that faucet in your lower stomach threatening to overflow. You let out a loud snicker, unbeknownst to the old car pulling up outside the house. A moody teenage boy, a tiny first grader, and a middle-aged woman are making their way out of the vehicle and in through the front door. “No fuckin’ way,” you giggle at him calling you a good girl. “You’re the one who calls me ma every like three seconds. If anything you’re the good boy here.”
JJ narrows his eyes at you playfully. “I won't take offence to that because I know you think it’s hot when I say that,” he scoffs also not paying attention to the sounds of telltale human life nearby until it’s too late. A lot too late.
He’s diving back down to lap at your clit again, this time harder and faster. And you're close. So close. And you’re gonna come—moans on the tip of your tongue when there's a bang against your door and the shout of your mother chastising your smaller brother for running in the hallway. Both of you stiffen at the sounds, your high quickly reversing itself the second the mention of family arose. “Shit.”
Immediately, JJ’s pulling his fingers out, scrambling off of you trying to find his shirt but the mess in your room is overwhelming—a sea of literally everything but shirts on his side of the bed. He’s about to reach for your hoodie on the other side when you shove at his shoulder. “Under the covers,” you hiss when you hear your mom’s footsteps growing closer.
He rolls off the blankets a bit too enthusiastically and ends up face planting on your floor, his erection smacking across the edge of your bed frame causing him to let out a pained yelp, immediately clutching his crotch in agony. “Ow, fuuuck, my dick,” he moans dramatically.
“Are you back already, darlin’? Thought you’d be at the library studying like you said yesterday.” Your mom’s voice carries through the walls, clearly from right beside the door.
“JJ, I swear to fuck, get up here now,” you snap, voice suddenly full of panic.
The creak of floorboards and then your mattress dips as JJ collapses into it with the grace of a drowning cat, burying himself under the covers without a care in the world. Bastard.
And he’s lucky too because your mom decides to open the door at that exact moment with no regard for your privacy.
“What is that sound, what are you- Oh.”
You rub your eyes like you’d just been taking a nap, JJ unmoving beside you. The blankets do a sufficient job of hiding the fact that you're essentially naked and he’s shirtless. “Mom?” you fake yawn. “What- What time is it?”
The older woman’s eyes flicker to your boyfriend’s incomprehensible form breathing evenly beneath your duvet—suspicious and slightly disapproving because well, every parent looks at JJ Maybank like that. He and his father have quite the troublemaking reputation—and not in the endearing way. Still, she doesn’t overtly try to beat him up or anything like you know your dad would do if he had been the one to walk in instead. “It’s just after 4 pm,” she answers you after a brief silence. “Is he asleep?”
You pretend you’d forgotten JJ was here, blinking in sluggish surprise. “Um… Yeah, he should be.”
“Right,” she says tightly, now scrutinising you instead. “I bought some of those jalapeño chips you like. They’re in the kitchen if you want to share them with JJ when he wakes up.” The last part sounds rather sarcastic and you die a little inside.
You nod, still hidden under your duvet. “Uh, yeah, I’ll come get them in a sec,” you reply, shifting slightly when JJ’s cold foot brushes your calf. And you can see him in the corner of your eye smirking into the pillow like he’s god’s gift to comedians.
“Mhm,” your mom frowns, glancing between both of your figures with narrowed eyes. “Make sure you’ve sent him home before your dad gets back, darlin’. You know what he’s like.”
“Yeah, obviously,” you smile awkwardly, hands fidgeting nervously.
The woman turns to go, flowy clothing brushing the ratty carpet. And just when you think you’ve gotten away with it, she turns her head, hand on the doorknob. “And JJ, I was not born yesterday. Put your shirt on. Both of you.”
Your expression falls and your face grows hot with embarrassment. She leaves the door halfway open and you swear under your breath, hands rubbing down your face with a groan. “Fuck…”
JJ lets out a snort, lifting his head to look at you. Locks of blonde fall into his eyes but he only grins, dimples clear as day. “She so loves me,” he smiles brightly, rolling over on top of you.
You scowl. “JJ, get off, my brothers are here,” you whine, struggling to get out from under him. He licks your nose without a care in the world before leisurely, forcing himself up from the mattress—limping a little from the previous assault on his dick. He doesn't bother picking up his shirt, grabbing one of yours that you’d stolen from your dad instead and throwing it over his shoulder. You watch the muscles in his back ripple for a long moment, wiping the saliva from your nose irritably. “You're an ass.”
He gasps loudly, strolling around your bed to reach you. “How’d you know?” He trips over a stray bra and leans down to slowly pick it up from the floor with a raised eyebrow. You snatch it from him with a roll of your eyes but he only leans in to try to lick you again.
“Go away, you freak,” you laugh, shoving his head away.
A middle finger is thrown your way as he backs up, dodging a pillow aimed straight for his face. “Only tryna show some affection to my girl but fuck you then,” he snorts, crouching down to shove his boots on. He laces them up swiftly, grabbing the keys to the Twinkie from your bedside table. “Tell your mom thanks for the chips, gonna take ‘em off your hands.”
“Wha- Hey, no! Those are mine!” You roll out of bed with the blanket still hugged against you, attempting to chase after him but you step on the fabric and it pulls awkwardly, sending you straight to the floor. You land on the empty glass from earlier and groan loudly. The sound of a mocking laugh echoes in the hallway, heavy boots banging against creaky wooden floors.
“JJ, shoes off the couch!” your mom’s exasperated voice follows his laughter.
“Yes, ma’am!”
“And leave the chocolate in the kitchen alone!”
“No promises, ma’am!”
You curse him out under your breath as he passes your doorway again, bag of chips and a handful of old custard cremes in his hands. He finds you still on the floor, muttering incoherently. “Little bitch…”
JJ only grins wider, continuing his exit from your home. “Love you, ma. See you tomorrow, yeah?”
You groan into your pillow, everything muffled by the fabric. By the time you lift your head, he’s gone, the smell of sea salt, faint weed, and cheap cologne left stagnant in the air. The oldest of your two younger brothers strolls past, headphones on at full volume. He gives you the dirtiest look known to man at the sight of you crumpled up on the floor. “You’re such a freak.”
“Fuck off!” you scowl, cheeks flaming as you scramble to get up and put some clothes on.
“Knock it off, you two!” your mom yells from her room.
Aaaaand, we’re back, you think with a sigh, rather sour at the sudden thought that you hadn't even gotten off today. JJ owes you a lot more than a bag of jalapeño chips when you get hold of him again.
casey's extra bit of thought ── lowkey wrote like five different one shots before i found one i genuinely wanted to post. i need to stop being so particular but it's whatevs
summary: the night at the beach seemed to be long forgotten. or that’s what you thought until a stupid treasure hunt leads you and jj sharing a place in a locked incubation device and he helps you remember where it all started.
a/n: just recently finished season four & that scene w kiara and jj gave me the perfect idea. i know it doesn’t really ‘match’ the timeline of the last one but we can all pretend that it does <3
warnings: voyeurism , , mean!jj , reader that plays naive , fingering , use of afab anatomy , mentions of cheating , heavy petting.
You should’ve known you were setting yourself up for failure. The minute you saw the slight smirk on JJ’s face the minute you offered to take Kiara’s place— you should’ve known something was going to happen.
Though , almost getting killed and getting your life saved by JJ Maybank was definitely not on your BINGO card.
Things between you and JJ hadn’t settled since that day night. If anything , it only made everything worse.
You were grateful another adventure opened up for the time being because pulling away from John B made you feel sick. You were eaten up by guilt , fear that your dirty little secret would blow up in your face and you’d have to own up to what you’ve done.
You could only imagine the devastation it’d cause John B and the disappointed looks from Kiara and Pope. The idea alone made your stomach sick.
JJ made it impossible to forget. He never brought it up. Not once. But that look in his eyes every time he looked at you made that same familiar feeling from that night on the beach wash up all over again— and you just knew.
You laid there in absolute dread in silence. Your eyes had opened before JJ’s and the immediate feeling of pure terror overcame you. Your memories washed back up and as the bends slowly faded away , the reality of the situation sunk in.
Practically quarantined with JJ , in this closed space , for twelve hours seemed like the test of a lifetime.
As he began to stir away , you swallowed harshly and scooted away. You clutched your necklace , anxiously fiddling with the string as you desperately search for nearby nurses.
“My savior.”
His voice was raspy. A hint of edge around the words as he cleared his throat roughly.
Silence filled the air pretty quickly and JJ’s mouth made a sound. He played it casual , coy like he always did. Cocking his head towards the side , he stared at you. “Ignoring me?”
Again , you decided to stay silent. Your cheek was raw with how hard you were biting it.
JJ sighed. “You know , I’ve been waiting to get you alone since that night on the beach.” He murmured. “A bit offended you actin’ like nothing happened.”
He was baiting you and you knew it. You refused to give and kept staring out the circular window.
“C’mon , Y/N. . .” JJ drug out your name barely above a whisper. You could feel him inching closer making you start to feel hot , your ears burning at the tips. “Have you fucked him yet? After me?”
His question made you flinch.
“Stop playing little miss innocent —” JJ narrowed his eyes , bringing up his index finger to your chin. Everything in you was screaming at you to not make the same mistake twice , to stand your ground , to fight him. . . but you were like putty in his hands. The minute you felt his skin on yours , you felt a fire where he touched and your head tilted ever-so-slightly to the side. “I know you think about it. About me.”
JJ looked into your eyes and paused , before a wide smirk developed on his face. “You haven’t , have you?” You didn’t need to say it , it was written all over your face. You were never good at keeping secrets. You were always so easy to read.
Especially by him.
He knew you like the back of his hand. All that pining had finally paid off— in his mind.
“How come?”
“JJ stop it.” You mumbled , moving to push his hand away. But he didn’t care. Instead he turned on his side to look at you , feeling like the first time all over again.
God , he hadn’t stopped thinking about it. About you.
John B was his bestfriend , his brother , but you— he couldn’t help but be addicted to you. He couldn’t change it and he didn’t want to. He’d risk loosing it all , everything , just to have you.
“You liked it—” he taunted. “You liked it so much , that I ruined your sweet little pussy for anyone else. It only remembers me. It only wants me.”
You shivered and shook your head. “No. I—I love John B. You’re acting crazy.”
“Crazy?” JJ let out a dry laugh. “You should know just how crazy I can be , baby.”
“He’s your bestfriend , JJ.” You sighed and shook your head , pushing his hand that was starting to drift downwards away. “You know this is wrong.”
“I don’t care if it is.” JJ scoffed. “I meant what I said that night. You were supposed to be for me.”
His words made you shiver. The memories crashed onto you like waves , so vividly that you could almost feel exactly how you felt sprawled out on the sand with your legs wide open just for him.
JJ noticed your reaction and smirked. It only pushed him further. “You know it , don’t you?”
You pursed your lips. Pushing your chin up defiantly as you scooted closer to the window , putting as much space between the two of you as possible.
JJ rolled his eyes. “C’mon. You might be able to lie to yourself and lie to John B— but you can’t lie to me, baby.” He murmured softly , delicately. There was a teasing tone to his voice that irritated you because you knew he was right and you hated yourself for it.
“You’re acting crazy , JJ.” You whispered. You squeezed your eyes shut and prayed that this was all a dream— a nightmare. Though the warmth of JJ’s breath and how your heart beat so loudly you thought it’d beat out of your chest , you knew it was real. Too real.
“Maybe I’m just crazy about you.”
Suddenly everything began to feel hot. The all knowing fact that you were trapped in this stupid metal bubble , next to him , it all started feeling too much. Beads of sweat dripped down your forehead , and your hand twitched. Your chest began to rise and fall quickly and you weren’t sure what you were more bothered by.
The claustrophobic , suffocating feeling: or the thump between your thighs that you wouldn’t be able to blame on alcohol.
Light as a feather , his fingertips tapped across the smooth skin of your thigh. He watched you in satisfaction. Loving the way you responded to him despite you trying to fight it. “It’s just you and me in here , baby—” he cooed in your ear. Leaning forward to press a soft kiss to the side of your neck , making your breathing hitch. “Nobody’s gonna know.”
“I–I’ll know.” You answered softly , still refusing to look at him. You hated the way it began to hurt. How it started to burn with a certain need that only JJ could subside. Everything in your body was screaming for him. To feel him again. But your head was fighting it.
“That never stopped you before.” He quipped back.
You turned your head to look at him again. Looking into his eyes that had a certain darkness swimming inside of them. You hated it. You hated him. Most of all , you hated yourself for how badly you wanted him.
Without another thought , becoming slightly delirious and deciding to cave and give in , you rushed forward and pressed your mouth against his. On instinct , he was there. Kissing you back feverishly , gripping onto you like a man starved. He tasted of saltwater and weed , the familiar taste bringing out a soft moan from your throat.
The sound made him smirk. He liked knowing you had given in. That he got what he wanted.
And he was going to make the most of it.
His hand slipped between the two of you , immediately cupping your sex. You gasped , breaking the kiss for air. He hummed in response , rubbing soft and achingly slow circles. “Beg for it.”
“W–What?” You breathed , taken off guard.
“You heard me.” JJ said again , halting his movements. JJ gripped your chin , looking down at you. “Beg me for it.”
“JJ—”
“Beg.”
He wanted to know he had the control. The power. You knew it. As much as you wanted to deny him of it , to refuse it , you couldn’t. It ached agonizingly , just looking at him ignited something within you. Your whole body was on fire and now that it started , there was no way you would have enough willpower to put it out.
“Please. . .” you whimpered , arching your back to feel some type of friction again. JJ wanted to groan right then and there, give in to you. But he refused. He ignored the way his cock was hard and angry , rubbing against the fabric of his underwear harshly. Frowning , you grabbed onto him , fisting his shirt to bring him closer. “Please touch me , JJ. Please. I need it. I need you.”
Your words were like a song to him. He let out a groan deep within his chest and kissed you again , harder , letting his tongue slip past your lips as you gasped when his hand pushed the fabric of your tiny shorts to the side.
His index finger ran up your slit , basking in the slickness. JJ smirked down at you , cocking his head to the side. “Your pussy loves me.” He boasted , and you weren’t in a position to disagree.
“Still my dirty girl , huh?” JJ moaned , sliding his finger inside of you. He grunted as he felt your walls stretch out , the tightness of it amusing him. “I knew I ruined you for him— can’t fuck him now , huh? Too busy thinkin’ bout me?”
You only responded with a moan , throwing your head back as you felt yourself fill up.
JJ watched you with a glimmer in his eyes. He swore had had never seen something hotter. The way your eyebrows scrunched up , your lips pursed , he could your feels contracting around his finger and he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. “You want more , baby?”
“Yes , JJ , yes. Please. . .”
“Tell me your mine.” He demanded but his voice was softer now. Almost pleading.
Your mind was hazy. You almost couldn’t understand what you were saying— but you knew in this moment it was true. “I’m yours , JJ. I’m yours.”
“Fuck.” He muttered. Dropping his head to kiss your neck , he added in another finger , rutting against the side of your thigh. He pumped his fingers in and out of you , curling upwards just enough to graze over the spot you needed most.
“Yes—” you breathed. Your head lulled to the side and your toes curled. It felt good. The coolness of his metal rings that slapped against your clit each time he pumped his fingers in and out sent jolts up your spine. It felt frivolous , like you were a school girl getting fingered by her first person. But JJ knew just what to do. He knew what you liked , how to make it feel good.
“You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” JJ said , kissing your mouth. You moaned into it , shaking underneath him as the feeling of his mouth on yours amplified the pleasure you were feeling.
The familiar feelimg began building up in your tummy and you gasped , pulling away as you used him to steady yourself. He sped up , just a little , keeping the same place as before. He cooed in your ear , kissing and sucking on different places. “Cum for me. Cum for me , give it to me.”
With your head thrown back , you felt your legs shaking. A dirty , loud moan left your mouth , one that made JJ’s ears ring. You grinded against him , riding out your high.
“My fucking girl—”
You came down breathlessly , with a new urge. You quickly attached yourself to him , wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. He kissed you back hungrily , grinding into you.
You jumped when you heard a knock on the glass.
“Sorry to um— interrupt.” The nurse cleared her throat awkwardly , looking away. “We need to check your vitals. . .”
And just like that , the weight of the world and your decisions fell back on your shoulders.
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Summery: John B was always your dad’s favorite. You always assumed it was because he blamed your mother leaving on you. Though he never outwardly neglected you, you always seemed to live in your older brother’s shadow. To everyone except one.
I remembered it from a young age, as early as seven, the way they all shunned me. My mother had been long gone, and my tired brain hadn’t held a single warm memory of her other than one.
We were at the chateau, as my dad called it, sitting on the old porch. Only, it wasn’t old then, it was new, and without the cigarette buds littering the once vibrant oak. There was an old wicker chair in the corner, pushed where the dusty couch now lay. It rocked slightly, not because it was meant to, but because it was broken. The distant memory of mumbled yelling and crashing from outside. Arguments that kept me and John B hidden under his covers until daylight broke. I loved that chair.
When I was young, my mom used to hold me in that chair. She never thought I was too old to be held, to be doted on by my mother. I still called her “mama” in my toddler years, pawing at the ends of her hair and the old fabric of her shirt. She sang soft melodies to me, songs I had never committed to memory, but songs I found in the simple things I enjoy now.
Popes dad says I had her eyes, and John B once told me that our dad thought I had her laugh. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t like me, he tells me he loves me, but he doesn’t like me.
Right before she left, I had been padding along the grain of the wood floors, my blanket dragging between my legs and my dad’s shirt were my makeshift pajamas hanging down to my ankles. A storm, ones we got often in the summertime as the air became warmer and pushed out the cold, had broken down a few large branches in the yard, and in an effort to find comfort, I ran to my mama.
“You favor that girl over our son!” My dad shouted, his voice thick with a simmering anger I had never heard before. I swore even then I could feel it through the walls.
“How dare you! They are my babies! I love those kids more than anything I have ever loved, and I love them just the same!” My mama argued, but her voice was softer, more conscious of her young ones who she believed were tucked into bed just a few feet away.
“I should have known you would have been this way. You haven’t seen them the same since they were born.” My mama added softly, her words bitter and heavy with an unspoken truth.
There was a heavy silence, and then, a crack. I wasn’t sure what it was, the sound of rings hitting skin and the soft clanking of another hitting the ground. I ran quietly, light on my feet as soon as the collision happened, crawling over to John B’s bed and pulling the sheets up to my chin. He didn’t even stir, so used to the feeling of my legs curling against his, expecting to wake up nose to nose when the sun would shine through his thin curtains. The arguments happened so often, it became rare that he wouldn’t wake up with me tucked into bed beside him, a nervous wreck and furrowed brows.
That was the last time I saw my mother, or heard her voice. I hadn’t known it then, but the way my father seemed distant that morning told me it was more than one of the usual fights. She wouldn’t be walking through that door again in a few days like she sometimes would, and she would never sing to me again.
I remember laying out across that old chair, pulling my small knees to my chest. Her perfume lingered on the cushion tied around the back, and her voice was carried over the breeze. She wasn’t coming back, and the pain in my father’s eyes and the churning of his stomach told me that much.
A few days later, dad called my brother and I into the living room to tell us how mama had skipped town, set off for a better life. I could tell they both blamed her, bother hated her secretly for it almost instantly, and being so young and impressionable, I nearly agreed, I nearly believed it. But I saw the way my father spoke to her and the way he had the ability to make her snap back. She deserved that life my father said she was chasing, even if deep down I knew it was a lie.
I never told my brother that dad was lying, though sometimes I did whisper it in his sleep like a prayer, like my truth would reach his dreams and taint his false sense into seeing whats real. But even as a little kid I wasn’t innocent enough to blabber on about how horrible our last living parent was. Especially not when our dad was to John B as what our mother was to me.
The chair was gone soon after, and my dad refused to tell me where he’d thrown it. At first I thought he had broken it, but he was a sensible man at times, and the extra cash lying around the kitchen told me he had sold it, and he had killed her memory too.
Years later, with barely any recollection of who she was, and lacking the foundations of which she should have built for me, sometimes I found myself curled up in that corner, my knees pulled to my chest tightly in the same ball I wound myself in all those years ago, and sometimes I found myself still calling out for her, like if she had heard how much I still needed her, she would sing for me one last time.
But I am much older now, and it has dawned on me repeatedly like some sick prayer that I am too old to be held, to be shown the affection of a mother and her infant, and I have been since the day she left.
Early mornings and stained glass windows, not from paints, but mold. Old rotten wood and dusty broken furniture. A safe haven to call home, a quiet room on the heart of the cut. My brother and I often pulled out patches of grass in the backyard, and sometimes we’d sit together on the hammock, see how high we could swing and loop our fingers around the rope to hold on.
Dad would sit inside, sometimes by the kitchen window where he could look out and watch over us, but he mainly spent his time inside of his office, which had at one point, been moms bedroom.
He used to leaning over the dirty counters, feeling the sun on his skin, letting the gentle breeze cool the back of his neck. But dad loved a lot of things, and unlike mom, he lacked a discreet touch about those things.
I guess it could be traced back to when my brother and I had just turned eight. A week after the party had rolled over, and glasses kept piling up around the house, sticky and stained a faint brown from his favorite cheap whiskey. Sometimes I tried to clean them up, and I would place them in the sink, but the colors never faded, not even after my small palms would bleed and callous.
Once, John B asked me what I was doing. He had been playing outside with Pope and JJ, and JJ had been screaming for me to come outside and be his partner in ‘signs’, our favorite childhood card game. Though, JJ and I often lost because we too, lacked the ability to be discreet in any situation.
I told him I’d be out soon, I was just doing the dishes and I’ll never forget the look on my dad’s face. The usually happy, calm man looked down at his feet with something I’ve later identified embarrassment. I never blamed dad for drinking. I figured if mom leaving was still hard on me after all this time, it must have been hard for him too.
He began using his coffee mug after that. The dark liquid less shameful in a cup that gave him the ability to not only disguise his problem, but to commit it at any time of day, because John B was too oblivious to notice, and I was too naive to believe he would.
“Bird.” Dad called for John B in the backyard, not caring how Pope and I were arguing nonsensical things over each other, waving our arms and pointing fingers. JJ happily mediated, laughing at our schoolyard taunts and remarks, encouraging us to snap back, though we all knew our words were nothing more than that, and we all loved each other a great deal too much to mean any of it.
If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own thoughts, maybe I would’ve seen the way dad was swaying. The way his knuckles were white around the frame of the door. His glasses were crooked, and his breath rotten with substances. But I didn’t notice, and so little John B happily walked towards our father with open arms.
Dad hugged him. He hugged his son and held back his tears like it was the most beautiful moment he could ever dream of. He held John B like he was precious, and not to deny that he wasn’t, to me my brother was worth more than anything in the world, but to my dad, it was something more than that, and to me, it felt that way too.
Because dad never held me, his daughter, who cleaned his dishes, and covered his tracks, and lied, and stole, and cried out for him, for some peace. He never hugged me like that. Because he blamed me.
He blamed me for my mother leaving because unlike my mother, he could never love my brother and I the same. He couldn’t love two of something if he barely wanted one. He never hit me, but he was cold, calculated, cruel when he wanted to be.
That day, at just eight years old, I sat in the grass with dirt under my nails and heavy breaths wondering would it would be like to feel the warmth of my father. Would it solve all my problems or only tear me apart further.
Because maybe if I continued to never feel the embrace of the man who gave me life, it would be easier to disassociate and pretend that it didn’t hurt. Maybe it would be easier to not like him anymore, and the unbearable guilt I carried even as an eight year old, would go away finally.
I didn’t even realize that I wasn’t fighting Pope anymore, or how my gaze had drifted over to watch how tenderly my dad held onto my brother, because I couldn’t even feel the way tears burned into my skin in slow droplets that fell into my lap.
JJ hugged me then, and it felt special, I felt special, because I knew even at that age that affection was a rarity in my life, and JJ, as much as I knew he loved me, was not a physical person. Still, he held me from behind while Pope spewed out apologies, swearing on everything he believed that he hadn’t meant a word. I could tell that he too, felt confused because we had gone after each other multiple times and never had I broken down.
In that moment it felt like I had gained something more than a hug from my father, but a silent acceptance with my best friends. Because soon, even Pope shut up and looked to where JJ’s eyes were glued, and even as flustered as he had been, everyone who sat in the dirt that day understood that no words that were thrown around had ever hurt me, nor did they even reach me, because what had made me so inconsolable was the fact that my happy brother received all the praise while I laid out in the lawn, crying until I dry heaved, ignored by someone who I only ever wanted love from.
“It’s gonna be alright, Y/n/n.” JJ mumbled quietly into my ear, and for the first time, I didn’t believe a word he said.
“Dad, dad stop.” I defended myself for the first time when I was thirteen. I was only half his height and he was triple my age. I thought that somehow, if I stopped enabling his behavior, he would get better. He would see how much I cared and he would finally love me.
That was the first time dad yelled at me, really yelled at me.
My dad refused to lay a hand on me, so when my friends ask if I was ever abused, I tell them no because it feels laughable to compare my psychological trauma to the welts on their ribs when they barely escape home.
When JJ asks me whats wrong, why my eyes look so puffy in the afternoon, after I stumble out of the house in the same clothes as the night before, I tell him I didn’t get enough sleep, because how do you tell your best friend who has been climbing through my bedroom window since we were nine that my dad hurts me too, you just can’t see it.
Dad called me a liar and a psychopath when I told him he was hurting me. He told me that it wasn’t true because he loved my brother and I and he would never lay a hand on either of us, not then and not ever. Dad says that he deserves respect, that I’m only a kid and he’s the adult so I better start acting like it. He tells me that it’s like a switch went off in my head ever since I became a teenager and all of a sudden I can’t stand him. But that’s not true.
The truth was even at such a young age, I always knew I would lay my life on the line for my dad. He meant more to me than I could ever express, because to me, he was the man who hadn’t left, even when he was given all the right reasons to bail out. So, for years I tried to cover for him, clean up and take care of everyone to show him what I could never articulate into a phrase of my affection. Still, he preferred John B’s half hearted sentiment over anything I could give him.
I wished so deeply that I was born different, that I wasn’t me. Because maybe if I wasn’t the clone of my mother, maybe then my father would like me more.
I guess the worst part of it all is that I can never be sure if my father’s anger could have been my mother’s, only given to him in her absence. Would his hands have been hers as I grew older? Would her hugs turn into the white knuckles wrapped around my throat? And would her songs become the vile words my father threw at me in drunken rage?
Maybe if I kept hiding behind the cruelties of his excuses for the way I cowered around him, then John B wouldn’t have to live in the same sense of shock I have been stuck in for a decade.
Dad never laid a hand on me, but he didn’t have to. He didn’t have to touch me to kick me in the stomach, all he had to do was show me how he was capable of being a loving father, but never put me on the receiving end.
He found time for John B, even as he buried himself in his work, searching for some gold that seemed far away and unimportant. He locked himself away while I slid food under the door, and I watched as he kissed my brother’s forehead and bid him goodnight, leaving me to sleep on the couch.
Even as a thirteen year old girl, an age so tender and impressionable, I felt so much more mature than I should have. I felt the effects of neglect I couldn’t wish on anyone. In my self pity, even after he gave me every reason to turn on him, I couldn’t hate him, so I began to hate myself.
“Dad, when was the first time you felt love?” John B asked one night. For the first time in a long time, we were all lying in the living room. My brother hung over my dad’s lap and my head resting on the floor as I sank off of the old dusty beanbag.
Dad thought carefully, his large hands splayed out against my brother’s small back.
“The day you were born.” He answered thoughtfully, and I watched as my brother’s eyes lit up.
I had every right to scream, to beg for an answer because the little girl trapped inside of me didn’t deserve this kind of pain from her own blood. But I didn’t. I sniffled and sat up, storming out of the house that I wasn’t even sure I could call home. How foolish I felt for ever believing my dad would ever love us the same. How stupid I felt for thinking that my brother, who inherited our fathers name, would never be preferred over my mother’s child.
“Y/n Routledge, get back inside now!” Dad yelled, storming down the porch to catch me. But I had become good at slipping away, and neglectful parents raise angry children.
“Go to hell!” It was the first time I swore at my dad. Even I shocked myself, because it had never occurred to me that I could do that.
“Why do you have to ruin everything?” He asked me, and it made me want to laugh because when had I ever done anything to him that wasn’t in good faith? “Just like your mama! Storming off!” My dad cursed under his breath, not really bothering to chase after me. How easy would it have been for me to have ran away.
I could live under a tree, a big willow with drooping leaves and heavy branches. I could make friends with the squirrels and be a good mother to them, the mother I never had, but always dreamed of.
“My mama was a good woman!” I cried out, suddenly overwhelmed with my freshly made emotions, ones that felt too strong for a new teenage girl.
“You know nothing about her! She left, I’m the one who stayed!” Dad yelled, as if it wasn’t painfully obvious.
I did something I had never done before. In all of my life, not once had I ever blamed my dad for my mom leaving. Not even after I heard their fights from when I was no taller than the notches in the doorframes, and not after he began to spend his paychecks on alcohol instead of new shoes for John B and I. I never blamed him because he always blamed me, and if it made me feel so worthless, then how could I ever do that to him?
“I don’t blame her!” I fought back, tears burning my eyes almost as hard as the back of my throat stung. “And I don’t blame you.”
I couldn’t stay mad at dad for more than a few minutes. I couldn’t blame him, and I couldn’t lie and say I did when I didn’t. Dad didn’t say anything then, so I turned on my heels in the dirt and I stormed off.
That night, I knocked on JJ’s window. I was wearing an old Star Wars t-shirt that he once called nerdy and my rainbow pajama pants. I looked thirteen going on seven, my cupcake slippers caked in mud.
But JJ didn’t pull on my braids like my brother did when we fought, and he didn’t poke fun at my pants. He opened his window and leaned out, his messy blond hair and tired eyes adjusting to admire my face.
“Y/n/n? What happened? Why are you here?” He asked, and I could tell he sounded a little on edge. His dad used to be discreet about how he dealt with JJ, but after middle school had began, he stopped caring as JJ stuck around the same kids he grew up with. So, I stayed as quiet as possible, not wanting any trouble.
“I just missed you.” A lie. The first of many lies I would spew out to my best friend because I felt too awkward to confess my own feelings and burden him when he had it so much worse.
“Oh.” His face lit up slightly, and I could tell my words made him feel nice. “C’mon, I’ll help you in. Wouldn’t wanna lose a slipper.” He teased with a toothy grin, a smart ass from birth.
I playfully smacked his shoulder, holding my breath until my feet hit his dirty floors. He held onto my arms longer than he had to, and I wondered if he could feel my body shaking.
“Don’t make fun, okay? I like my slippers.” I smiled, blinking away the old tears that I cried on the way over, and pawing at the scrapes from the bushes I cut through to get to his house quicker.
“I would never!” He defended softly, his arms raised in a scouts honor. “Cross my heart, cupcake.”
Sometimes I wished that JJ and I were older, I thought about it often. It kept me awake after long fights with dad, that I would one day save up all the money I could scrape together and take JJ with me. We’d go around the globe, just me, him, and open ocean surrounding us, and only the scars on our skin and in our heads to remind us of the past. But we wouldn’t care, because we would be there for each other, and the ocean would wash away the evil men on the shore.
“I wish I had a more appreciative daughter!” Dad yelled at me as he packed up his things in a hurry, chasing yet another lead on his quest for the gold, a passion driven by his valiant greed.
It hurt, but it would have hurt me a lot more three years ago. At sixteen, his words meant nothing to me, because at sixteen, I had finally come to terms with the fact that my dad simply did not like me, and that was okay.
So instead of sitting in self pity, or swallowing myself whole in a another bottomless spiral of self hatred and depression, I finally found the spark that was burning so fiercely somewhere deep inside of me.
“Fuck you!” The second time I swore at dad. “Fuck you and all your promises to get better!” I stepped forward, crossing into his office, which I swore to never go in, not only because it reeked of him, but because it was only a reminder of how quickly he let mom go, and how quickly he shifted the blame onto me, an innocent infant with no real chance to do anything to anyone.
“Fuck me? Oh, fuck me? Your father? I have done everything for you! I have given you the chances my own parents couldn’t give me and you are so ungrateful! I pray for a day you wake up and see the damage you cause around here!” Dad spat, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.
“Fuck all your pride and fuck all your prayers!” I stepped closed again, and my knuckles pawed at his shirt desperately, my eyes looking up at my father, who stood ten times taller than me, or so it felt that way. “All this time I waited like a fool, because you’re my dad. Above anything else, before the treasure and before the alcoholic, you’re supposed to be my dad!”
“Are you drunk?” He asked. I wasn’t, but I might as well have been with how quickly my mind passed through emotions.
Here he was standing in front of me, and here I was already done processing all my grief. He wasn’t dead, I could feel each breath under the palms of my hands, yet for years it felt like walking next to a ghost with how absent and withdrawn he always was from my life.
“All I ever wanted was a father.” I told him softly. “Was that too much to ask?” I deserved to know, but I should have known better.
My dad was an asshole, and he always would be. It was in his fashion that he would brush right past me, unfeeling and lacking empathy for his own daughter.
I felt angry. Before, I felt betrayed, sad, even embarrassed by him, and by how easily I let him get away with all his faults simply because he was my father and if my brother loved him, then there had to be some good in him. But there wasn’t.
Here he was, walking out of my life, the keys to the car that I paid for in his hands, dangling just as carelessly as he was with my life. I don’t know why that set me off, but it had. I heard my feet slap against the floors before I felt myself moving.
“Give back my damn keys!” I caught up behind him, snatching the carabiner from his dirty knuckles and pushing him into the wall. He wouldn’t hit, but god, had he made me wish I could. “I paid off that loan it’s under my name!” I stuffed the clasp into my back pocket tightly.
“You wanna leave, thats fine. But you’re walking out of my life if you’re going!” I breathed out heavily, the frames on the wall rocking back and forth from the force he hit the wood with.
“What is wrong with you? Where’s my sweet little girl I used to love?” My knuckles loosened on his shirt again, but my elbows remained pressed into his stomach.
“Loved? Like you ever loved me. You couldn’t have, because you wouldn’t have taken it out on me. You wouldn’t have gotten rid of her existence in spite of me. You wouldn’t have tossed that damn chair, and you wouldn’t have burned the things she kept for me!” I wanted to cry, but more than that, I wanted him so see how exhausted I felt.
“All I wanted was a fucking father, John.”
“And you got one, and look at you, you’re a strong young woman now!” He laughed bitterly, fighting against my shaky hold. He could barely look at me. I wondered if he was asked, could he even tell a friend the color of my eyes? If I were to wash up on the shore, could he even report the body? Would my grave lay empty simply because he hadn’t known me for years, and he never would.
“I was a little girl! I was a little girl, and I still am! I’m sixteen, dad! Stop treating me like some type of problem when I’ve been nothing but great to you!” I cried this time, pushing him harder until the wood splintered and my arms gave out. We both stumbled away from each other.
“All I ever wanted was a father, but for the first time, finally I can see you are the leader of the landslide.” I scoffed pathetically, staring him down with a broken heart.
I deserved to smash all the plates in the house, to rip off all the wallpaper and spray paint the rotting white paint bright blue just in spite of my father. But even though he wasn’t kind to me, I couldn’t ignore how good of a dad he had been to John B, and more than anything I ever held close to me, I loved my brother dearly. I wiped my tears and let dad walk out on me. Neither of us said a word.
He clapped John B over the back when he got outside, promising to return soon, this time with the promise of an unpromising fortune. He swore that he loved my brother more than anything, called him by the nickname he earned long ago, and left without saying another word.
I watched wordlessly from the front steps.
We lost the gold. Once or twice. The gold we had found first was a slap to the face, but having the cross stolen right out from under us felt so much worse, especially with Pope being tied into it on such a deeper level.
We all sat around the first now, our bodies tucked close together like a perfectly woven blanket, arms tangled around each other and weak laughter echoing around the smokey fire. We didn’t have much left to fight for, but to me, I felt deeply that in a more important way, we had gotten the gold, and we had been filthy rich all along.
The gold we’d found couldn’t be measured on a scale and dealt between the seven of us evenly, but unmeasurable and sought after by anyone who understood. Because in the end, we still had each other, and to me, this was family.
JJ’s blonde hair tickled the top of my forehead. We sat close together on the low swinging hammock in the backyard. His arms wrapped around me tightly, and my legs thrown over his lap carelessly. We talked quietly with Kiara about the little things. We found alternatives to seek out her dreams of preserving the ecosystem and to swim with the turtles.
It all felt so real, so domestic for a group of friends who were always running from something. It felt like the first time in a while I had time to stop and catch my breath.
“What are you thinking about, cupcake?” The nickname rolled nicely off the tongue, his crooked smile endearing to me, and his eyes sweeter than any doe I’d ever encountered.
I sighed contently, cuddling closer to the boy and soaking up his warmth greedily. Though we both never said it would loud, it always felt nice to share close proximity with someone we trusted so deeply. To feel affection for someone when we had grown up scarcely to it.
Dad had been dead for nearly two years now, and the truth was, I wasn’t sixteen anymore. I wasn’t the sad little thirteen year old who hated herself more than anyone else, who climbed through the blondes window at midnight in her muddy slippers, and I wasn’t the timid toddler who could barely walk without tripping on her blanket she dragged around everywhere for a pathetic kind of comfort.
John B took it hard at first. I wanted so desperately to tell him everything. He was my older brother after all, but most days now I felt like it was my job to look out for him. It always had been. He was my brother and I would never have let him suffer, but sometimes it was hard not to wish for once I could selfishly struggle openly and degrade the man he saw as his hero.
It would be wrong for me to taint that image of a dead man, a man I still believed John B was openly grieving, even if he said he was okay now. You are never okay after losing someone like that, no matter how evil, and I think he forgets that he was still my father, even if he never saw us in the same context as he saw him.
“Thinking about how comfortable you are.” I mumbled, stretching my limbs out tiredly along his tanned skin. I laid like a lap dog on his chest, my head tucked under his chin and my hands playing with the rough fabric of his dirty t-shirt.
“Not about John B?” He prodded quietly. JJ always knew when the wheels in my head were turning, just like I could always tell when something was wrong. It was like our super powers, to know each other so well we couldn’t hide anything.
“He’ll come back, he wouldn’t leave you.” He assured softly, his fingers dancing gently along my curved spine. It felt like oddly in times like these, the calm after the storms, that it truly would always be just JJ and I against the world. Like we were the only two people who truly understood each other, through the laughter and under the deepest scars littering our skin.
“I know. He’s my brother, he wouldn’t do that.” I agreed, and just as I was about to let the serenity of the lazy swinging of the hammock lull me into a sleepy haze, the crunching of boots on leaves alerted me elsewhere.
There he stood, his clothes still grimy from the tropical heat and wet mud from Barbados. His hair was stuck to his forehead in the same curl pattern from a few days ago, but the deep rooted brunette seemed to become a shade of dirty blonde from all the harsh sun. His skin was tanned and covered in sweat, but he was still my brother, and he had finally come home.
I sat up quickly from JJ’s arms, pushing off of his chest with so much force, I felt him bend at the waist and let out a puff of air. I shouted an apology before wrapping my brother in a bone crushing hug, relief filling my stomach and the unease dispersing finally.
“Where have you been!” I pushed him away with a smile, I didn’t even notice the seriousness in his gaze as he called out for me softly.
“Are you crazy? Staying behind like that in a foreign country?” I laughed breathlessly, my eyes searching his face and settling on his lack of a smile.
“Y/n/n.” He called out again softly.
“What? Whats wrong?” I breathed out, my smile fading slightly into a dimmer smirk, confidence slipping from my face into a deep furrow between my brows.
“John B, what happened? Did someone hurt you…d-did-“ My happy touch became a panicked grip on his clothes, my knuckles white and face pale as I searched for answers.
“Y/n.” He cooed calmly, the ease between his eyes and brows calming the pace of my breath. “I found him.” He said with a soft smile.
“What?” I breathed out. “Who?”
I racked my brain for answers, mulling over every possible explanation for what could have made me stay behind, leave behind all the good that had surrounded him for the past few years, and the good that would continue to grow with him.
“Don’t tell me you forgot your own dad?” An old voice called out from behind the brush, long greasy hair and an un-groomed bears covering a good portion of his old face. From his glasses alone I could see who it was, never mind the voice that often haunted me even in my sleep, the ghostly presence that lingered even as I slept on my own.
He was a poltergeist haunting my life, torturing my soul until I bled out completely blue. Had the punishment of forcing a child to clean up his mess for over a decade not been enough karma for all the bad I hadn’t done yet? Would I forever be stuck in the broken glass of his aftermath? How much longer would I have to hide behind the shell of who I once was just to please those who don’t yet know about who I am, of who I could have become?
I decided then I couldn’t do it, and I let go of my brother, and I let go of my pride.
“No.” I spoke softly, looking between the boys. John B looked more and more like dad every day.
I watched my brother’s face crumble in confusion, my heels dragging against the dirt, I backed away like a scared dog, no longer the eager retriever with a bird at the door. My tail was between my legs.
“Y/n/n, it’s dad!” John B gestured like it would click for me, but that was not my father. Maybe by blood, but he would never be more than that to me, just evidence that linked me back to John B.
“No, I-I can’t.” I tried to explain through staggering breaths, choking out my words like tranquilized venom.
“I know it’s a lot, but everything’s going to be the way it was.”
My back hit JJ’s chest, and for the first time in the last few seconds, the ringing that blocked out my brothers bargaining seemed to fall deaf on my ears, and all I could hear was the sound of my heart beat dying in my chest.
“No, you don’t get it.” I cried out, though my eyes felt dry. “You don’t get it and you never will!” I begged silently for him to see the way the spark seemed to die as soon as dad came back, the way that my shoulders slumped and the confident young woman I had become faded back into the teenage daughter who wished for nothing more than to run far away from here.
“Y/n, come on, don’t be like this.” Dad tried to reason, like it was his say to decide how I would handle his return, like he could decide when I stopped feeling the effects of his abuse, because that was a word I had learned to call it, because that is what it was. Abuse.
“How dare you!” I shouted, anger making my skin hot. I felt queasy, like the world was crashing down on me, betrayal hot on my face. He didn’t know, my brother didn’t know because I protected him from it.
Couldn’t he ever notice how much happier I seemed after dad left? How I finally started living for the moments between us instead of for the times when I could go to sleep, where I could quietly call out for our mother who I didn’t know.
JJ knew, of course he knew. He knew by the time dad left. I’d confessed it all in a drunken ramble in the backyard after he commented on how happy I seemed, and though I laughed when I told him, neither of us found it funny. He apologized for making me feel like my problems were minuscule compared to his, but I assured him it was my own self doubt, and never his own actions. Neglectful parents raise insecure kids.
So if my best friend had known, if he could see just how happy I was without the burden of my father’s blame, how could my other half not see it? My own DNA? It led me to believe he was neglectful of me in his own ways, pushing aside the obvious signs of my own struggle just for his own benefit, for the gain of a relationship with the father that severed ours long ago.
“How dare you come back here after all the shit you put me through!” I cried, and I hit him. I hit him in the chest and I watched as he kept his ground, his shoes not even sliding against the mud. I had grown weaker without his constant fighting, and it showed in just how quickly the flame flickered out.
“How dare you come back and expect me to just be okay with it when all you’ve given me is years of therapy that I can’t afford!” I hit him in the jaw, and this time, I felt a pair of arms pull me away, my hot tears burning their tan skin. I kicked and I screamed, and my brother dragged me off until I couldn’t reach him anymore.
“You’re a piece of shit! I owe you nothing!” I pointed at him, staring him down as he rubbed the quickly blossoming bruise on his skin, his beard covering the welt almost entirely. The mark didn’t make me feel better at all, and instead, I only felt more pathetic.
“I gave you everything!” My limbs fell limp, all fight leaving my body as my tired joints ached, my head falling onto JJ’s shoulder. The boys passed me off like some kind of child, and looking at the man who tormented me my entire youth, I felt just like the timid child once again, like all my growth meant nothing.
The bright moon was replaced with the yellow glow of the kitchen lights, clouds traded in for floral curtains that hung crooked over the windows, and the cool grass fading into hard wood beneath my feet.
“Y/n, hey…” JJ cooed, his hands brushing against my shoulders.
“I just…fuck…I couldn’t do it. I don’t know why I hit him, I don’t know, I just-“
“Y/n, cupcake, hey, baby,” he called for me again, a plethora of nicknames tumbling from his lips that I had never heard him call me before, but all that held a genuine affection in them. I stopped my senseless rambling at the tenderness of his touch and softness in his voice.
“It’s okay to not be okay.” He affirmed quietly. “You earned your anger, it’s okay.”
I nodded, my gaze drifting from just beyond his shoulder were my brother stood dumbfounded with my father, looking at him with a mix of question and anger towards the man that he once saw with stars in his eyes.
“Jay, I don’t know what to do.” I confessed quietly, feeling like we were ten again, sharing secrets through a game of telephone, just the two of us stuffed in the corner of my bedroom at midnight, my father unaware that the blonde was still in the house, let alone snuck in my room.
“That’s okay.” He nodded again, and this time his palms molded against the apples of my cheeks, thumbs brushing away my stale tears.
“It’s gonna be okay, we can run, or we can stay and kick him out, or we can do nothing.” I focused on the way he said each option with the use of we, because in our minds, we always escaped hell together.
“Can we just stay here for a little longer?” My eyes found his, and I saw the way his flickered down in a way that felt too intimate for just best friends.
“We can do whatever we want, it’s you and me against the universe, cupcake, and we’re winning it.” He promised.
And just as I always had, I believed every word he said.
୨୧ Summary: In which, JJ gets jealous of Y/N's friendship with John B after Y/N comes back from a 2 month long trip.
୨୧ Author's Note: This was the first fic that I had ever written. Like all of my old fics, I have tweaked it a bit so it can be better written since I wasn't the best at writing when I first started out. <3
coco-cinnamon. please do not steal, copy, modify, repost, or translate my work.
Sitting by the crackling fire, you breathe in the refreshing autumn air, overjoyed to reunite with your friends and boyfriend after two months away with your parents for your father's work. JJ approaches, handing you one of the two beers he's carrying.
He smiled as he sat down beside you, then leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "I'm so glad I get to see you again, babe." He said. You rested your head on his shoulder, smiling contentedly. "I'm glad too. I really missed this."
Suddenly, Kiara plopped down next to you and pulled you into a tight hug. "Hey, don't hog Y/N! We missed her too!" She said with a chuckle. You laughed and hugged her back, then glanced over at JJ. He looked slightly annoyed at the interruption.
He sighed, "I know you've missed her, Kie, but I'd like some alone time with my girlfriend. It's been two months since I've seen her." John B joined them, saying, "Oh come on, JJ. She's our best friend too - we've all missed her just as much as you have." You giggled softly and blew JJ a kiss. "Sorry, babe, looks like you'll have to share me for a bit."
JJ chuckled softly, pretending to catch the kiss in his hand and placing it over his heart. "Okay, I get that you two lovebirds missed each other, but save the PDA for later." Pope said, sipping his beer. You jokingly flipped him off - that was just how your relationship with him worked. You two constantly teased and poked fun at each other, but that was how you bonded.
Pope playfully rolled his eyes and took another sip of beer. "Kie, you're hogging her - let JB and me see her too." He chuckled. "Fiiine.." She relented, releasing you. You then sat between John B and Pope. John B gently hugged you, and you giggled as you hugged him back. John B was your best friend, someone you had known even before he met JJ.
After a few drinks, you playfully teased John B. "Is this how it's going to be? Fine!" He laughed, then started tickling you, making you squeal. "Okay, okay... I'm sorry, just stop!" You giggled.
JJ watched you and John B laugh and mess around. Jealousy flickered in his eyes - he didn't enjoy sharing you, even with your friends, and seeing how you were with John B right now only made it worse. He looked away from you both, then got up to get another beer.
After Pope, Kiara, and John B had departed, only you and JJ remained. Though slightly tipsy, you remained cognizant of your surroundings. Meanwhile, JJ - visibly intoxicated - sat slouched on the couch, his expression conveying annoyance. "Baby, are you okay?" You asked, settling in beside him and gently taking hold of one of his hands.
Sounding irritated, he asked, "Do you love me? Or are you just with me to get close to John B?"
You cupped his face, worry filling your eyes, and questioned, "JJ, where is this coming from?"
"I saw the way you acted with John B tonight. You barely even acknowledged me," He said as he frowned, his words still making sense despite his drunken state.
"I know you missed me baby, and I really missed you too but, you were with me all day. Not that I'm complaining, I loved every second of it." You said as you frowned slightly. "But I also wanted to spend time with John B, Kiara, and Pope. I missed them too."
JJ sighed. "I know, I know. I just missed you so much. I didn't want to share you - I wanted you all to myself."
You giggled softly. "Well, that's nothing new."
JJ leaned in close, his hot breath tickling your ear. "Plus, you wore my favorite bikini tonight. You looked so fucking hot, I couldn't keep my eyes off you. I wanted nothing more than to just fuck you right then and there."
You stifled a whimper as wetness pooled between your thighs. Instinctively, you clamped your legs shut, but his smug gaze pinned you in place. "Uh-uh, don't close up just yet, baby." He purred, spreading your legs apart once more. With a few deft tugs, he untied the strings of your bikini bottoms, exposing your glistening cunt. He repeated the motion with your top, leaving you completely bare before him.
He studied your body for a moment, biting his lip. He then tugged off his swimming trunks and stood up beside the couch. You giggled knowingly and got onto your knees. Your mouth latched onto his hardening length, and you began to suck. JJ let out a low groan as you kept bobbing your head, taking him in fully. His moans grew louder before he pulled you up into a passionate kiss. Your tongues intertwined as he grabbed your waist, pulling you closer against him.
JJ pulled you close, then lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you to his room. Entering, he shut the door and tossed you playfully onto the bed. You giggled as he climbed on top, kissing you hungrily. Trailing kisses along your jawline and down your neck, he made his way to your breasts. His mouth latched onto your left nipple as his hand massaged your right. You let out a moan, gently biting your lip. He then switched, sucking on your right nipple while caressing the left. "Mm, JJ, just fuck me already.." You whimpered, tugging at his hair.
"Patience, princess." He murmured, planting a trail of kisses down your abdomen. His hand drifted lower, eliciting a soft gasp as he caressed your clit. You shivered with anticipation, tangling your fingers in his hair as he lavished attention on the most intimate parts of you. Planting a gentle kiss on your sensitive nub, he elicited a soft giggle as you playfully ran your fingers through his hair. Licking up your slick folds, he slid a finger inside you, his tongue circling your clit. Your moans grew louder as the sensations built. "JJ, I'm so close." You panted.
He smirked as he added a second finger, continuing to lick your sensitive clit. The sensations built, causing you to moan and feel a tightening in your core. Determined to make you climax, he quickened the pace of his ministrations with his fingers. Unable to hold back any longer, you let out a final, trembling moan as your release washed over you. He licked his fingers clean, then positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his shaft teasing your folds. "Jayj, please fuck me already." You whimpered impatiently.
JJ suddenly thrust into you, aided by how soaked you were. You let out a loud moan and grabbed the sheets as he began pounding you. You continued moaning and squeezed your breasts. He grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head as his eyes focused on your breasts. Each stroke now hit your g-spot, eliciting screams from you.
He let out a moan. "Mm.. I know baby, I know." He cooed as more moans, squeals and screams fell from your parted lips. At this point, you could barely form words, reduced to a moaning mess - which only turned him on more. He released your wrists, pulled out, and then flipped you onto your stomach. JJ slapped your ass hard before thrusting into you again.
He moaned in ecstasy, "Oh, Y/N! You feel so good!" He picked up the pace. Breathless, you cried out, "JJ, I- fuck!" You gasped, "I'm close..." Grasping the sheets, you moaned louder as JJ slapped your ass once more, leaving a red handprint in its wake. Finally, you reached your climax, your cries of pleasure filling the air. He thrust into you a few more times before pulling out and releasing his seed onto your back.
You giggled, catching your breath, and laid down. JJ laid beside you, holding you close as you rested your head on his chest. "Damn... that was so hot." He said, also catching his breath. You giggled and bit your lip. "Yeah, I missed our sex." You replied.
"I'm sorry for getting so jealous. It was dumb and childish - he's your best friend." He kissed your head reassuringly. "It's okay, baby," you replied, smiling as you lifted your head to kiss his cheek. "I love you, Y/N." JJ murmured, kissing your head again. "I love you too, JJ." You said, holding him tightly. Your eyes slowly fluttered shut as you drifted off to sleep in JJ's arms.
୨୧ Author's Note: thank you so much for reading, angels!
