âHold You Like Thisâ âJJ Maybank x Reader âHurt/Comfort, Angst with Fluff
đ This is a work of fiction written by me. Reposts, copying or translations without credit is not allowed. Please be kind â creators deserve respect. đ â Warnings: Mentions of parental abuse, visible bruises, emotional vulnerability, gentle physical care, soft language
The steam rose from the hot tub, curling through the cool night air like a whispered secret. Around us, the backyard was dark and quiet except for the soft hum of the jets. JJ sat there, water just below his shoulders, muscles tense beneath the surface, face shadowed in the dim glow of the patio lights.
I slipped in beside him without a word, letting the warmth wash over me. The silence between us wasnât awkward; it was the kind that filled with everything unspoken but deeply understood.
JJâs eyes were fixed somewhere beyond the edge of the tub, distant like he was looking for something he could barely name. After a long moment, his voice came out, low and rough.
âI bought this for them.â His hand traced the rim of the tub slowly, deliberately. âFor my family. So theyâd have something good. Something to come home to.â
I turned toward him, catching the way his jaw clenched tight, like he was holding back a storm. The bruises on his ribs peeked from beneath the waterâdeep purples and yellows, angry marks left by a fight that didnât just hurt his body but seemed to weigh on his soul.
âYou donât have to do everything alone, JJ,â I said gently. âYouâve done so much already.â
He finally met my eyes, dark and stormy. âIâm tough,â he whispered. âIâve gotta be.â
âI know you are,â I said softly, the words like a balm. âYou donât have to prove it to me.â
He shifted, the water rippling as he moved. âI can take care of myself.â
âYou have,â I said. âBut thatâs not all. You donât have to. Not with me here.â
JJâs shoulders dropped just a little, like he was easing down after carrying a weight he didnât realize heâd been holding. His voice cracked just slightly when he said, âIâm used to doing it alone.â
âAnd now youâre not,â I told him, reaching out to let my hand hover just above his bruised ribs, careful not to touch too hard, but close enough for him to feel the promise in the space between us. âWe take care of each other now. You donât have to carry it by yourself anymore.â
For a long moment, JJ said nothing. Then he finally let out a breath that sounded like surrender, or relief, or maybe just the exhaustion of fighting so hard all the time.
âI want to be better,â he admitted, voice low, ânot just for them, but for me too. But some days, it feels like Iâm drowning in all the shit Iâve been through.â
I leaned closer, meeting him fully. âYouâre not drowning. Not when Iâm here.â
JJâs eyes flickered, vulnerability breaking through the tough exterior for just a heartbeat. âWhy would you stay? Why would you care?â
âBecause I see you,â I said simply. âNot just the tough, angry side you show the world. But the part you try to hide. The part thatâs scared and tired and still wants to believe in something better.â
He looked at me then, really looked, like he was trying to memorize the shape of my face. âI donât want to be a burden.â
âYouâre not a burden,â I said firmly. âYouâre someone I want to be with. Someone I want to stand beside, no matter what.â
JJ swallowed hard, the muscles in his jaw working. Then slowly, he reached out and took my hand, his fingers warm and steady in mine.
âIâve always tried to protect the people I care about,â he said, voice rough with emotion. âSometimes Iâm scared Iâm not strong enough.â
âYouâre stronger than you think,â I assured him. âAnd you donât have to do it alone anymore.â
The water rippled as JJ shifted closer, not with words but with a small, unspoken gesture. His hand found mine again, fingers tightening just enough to remind me he was still thereâstill holding on.
I reached out, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a quiet hug. His body was rigid at first, every muscle tense like he was waiting for the moment to break. But slowly, he leaned into me, resting his head lightly against mine.
âI donât always know how to let people in,â he murmured, voice barely audible over the jets. âBut... Iâm trying.â
I pressed a soft kiss to the side of his head. âYou donât have to be perfect at it. Just let me be here.â
Gently, I ran my fingers over the bruises along his ribsâcareful, tender. The marks were raw reminders of his fatherâs fists, but tonight, my touch was a small rebellion against the pain they represented.
âLet me help,â I whispered. âYou donât have to carry all this alone.â
JJ stayed still under my hands, breathing slowing as the warmth of the water and my touch started to ease the tightness in his body. For a moment, the weight heâd been holding so fiercely liftedânot vanished, but shared.
The night wrapped us both in its quiet hush. No promises were made, no grand declarations. Just two people, holding onto each other in the stillness, proving that sometimes strength comes from letting someone else carry part of the load.
And in that steaming glow, JJ didnât have to be the only one holding up the weight anymore.
My hand lightly rested on JJâs shoulder, steadying him in the warm water. After a moment, I slid my fingers beneath his arm and squeezed gently. âLet me help.â
He didnât protest, but the way his muscles tensed told me he was already bracing himself for the pain.
I stood slowly, careful not to pull him too fast. âReady?â I asked softly.
JJ nodded, but as he lifted himself out of the water, a sharp groan escaped him, low and guttural. His face twisted for just a secondâthe kind of pain that demands you pause and breathe.
I wrapped my arm around his waist, supporting his weight. âTake it slow. You donât have to rush.â
He took a shaky breath, pressing his palm against his ribs as if trying to hold the bruises in place. I felt the heat from his skin, uneven and tender under my fingertips.
Together, we moved inch by inch, my hand sliding from his back to his side, careful not to touch the bruises until he was steady on his feet.
When he finally settled on the bench beside the tub, I reached for the healing balm. I warmed it between my palms, then pressed my fingers gently against his ribs where the bruises were darkest.
JJ flinched sharply, a small grunt breaking past his lips, and I stopped immediately, waiting for him to catch his breath.
âSorry,â I whispered, but he shook his head, eyes clenched shut.
âNoâkeep going,â he said quietly. âJust⌠slow.â
I adjusted, pressing lighter, rubbing in slow, circular motions. The skin was tender, swollen beneath my touch, but the balmâs coolness seemed to soothe some of the heat beneath the surface.
JJ exhaled slowly, the tension in his body loosening just a fraction.
I stayed close, my hands gentle but steady. No need for words right thenâjust the quiet between us.
After a moment, JJâs eyes found mine, tired but real.
He didnât say much, just a quiet shake of his head, like he was trying to push something back down.
I gave his shoulder a squeeze. âYou donât have to keep it all inside.â
He swallowed hard but didnât look away.
He gave a small, tired smileâthe kind thatâs both grateful and weary all at once. I kept my hands moving, slow and deliberate, tracing over every bruise and scratch, willing to take on some of his pain if only through touch.
When I finished, JJ shifted, his breath hitching as the soreness settled in again. I helped him lie back against the bench, wrapping a towel gently around his shoulders.
âBetter?â I asked.
He nodded, though the ache hadnât vanished. âYeah. Thanks.â
For a moment, we just sat thereâquiet, close, sharing something without words.
And in that stillness, I knew weâd both been holding up more than we thought. But right now, neither of us had to do it alone.















