#jj x oc x rafe

[maybanksprincess]

trouble sleeping? // j.m

warnings: fluff, cuddling, kissing, pet names.

summary: jjs girlfriend is having trouble sleeping <3

small blurb for my baby @jjblunts requested by this ask, i hope you like it!

for a couple days now, you've been having sleeping problems. when you lay in bed, you toss and turn for hours until you fall asleep, waking up with a sore back and grouchy from the lack of sleep.

however, jj has been noticing the slight changes in appearance and mood from you. he's been noticing dark circles starting to form, and the way you've been super quiet all day, and drinking multiple cups of coffee to stay awake.

he didnt know what was going on, but he knew he wanted to help. so tonight, instead of laying on the couch, he comes in to sleep with you instead.

you had been laying on your back, desperately trying to get just an ounce of sleep, but there was no use. you let out a huff of frustration and turn onto your side, hugging the pillows close to you.

as your fighting to fall asleep, you hear the door creaking, meaning someone has entered the room. you open you eyes to see the blonde standing above you.

he reaches down to carress your cheek, rubbing the pad of his thumb across it. "hey babydoll. you cant sleep?" he asks softly.

you smile softly up at him, a tired and weak smile on your face. "no..." you shake your head.

he sighs, sliding into bed next to you gently moving you over by your waist to make room for him. "why didn't you tell me baby? you know i would've came to sleep with you." he says, running his fingers through your hair gently.

you lean into his touch, resting your head on his pec. "i dunno, didn't wanna bother you..."

he chuckles softly "baby your never bothering me. jus' go to sleep, hm?" he says, and moves your hair away from your face to kiss your forehead.

within minutes, your softly snoring in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck.

he smiles, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. "sweet dreams, sweetheart." he says before falling asleep, holding your body against his protectively.

[amandabbbbb]

summary: rafe who protects maybank!reader from luke bc jj is too busy finding gold to protect his sister

tw: parental abuse, mention of drugs, rafes sweet but kinda demanding

word count: 526

you covered a shift working at the wreck because kie could never be bothered to take a shift at her dad’s restaurant, too busy running around the island trying to find whatever gold bullshit that john b has got your brother’s friends and him hung up on. you call jj, overwhelmed from the morning of dealing with your father luke’s fit of rage.

“are you gonna be home tonight? dad just bought a bunch of drugs from barry’s and i don’t want to be alone. i’m scared.”

“sis, you know i love ya, but do you want our lives to get better or not? i’m tryna get us out of this hell, alright? so just stay in your room and don’t come out. love ya, bye.”

he hung up before you could squeeze in another cry for help. just as your salty tears fall, rafe cameron motions you over to give him his bill. you wipe your tears away and give him the fakest smile. he orders you to sit in the opposite empty chair.

“are you alright, sweetheart? i heard that. you know, i know your dad’s a druggie dick. i’ve seen him at barry’s. I gotta get you out of that house. i see your bruises. you know all that makeup doesn’t cover it.” he grabs your arm and rolls up your sleeve, showing your bruise from your father. you, flustered, pull away as his tone was demanding.

before you could even respond, kie’s words ring in your ears: “rafe cameron wouldn’t be caught dead eating here, especially alone. he usually spends his time at the country club. to a kook like him, the wreck is a dump. but ever since you started working there, he always sits at the same table almost every day, staring at you your whole shift, and if you aren’t his waitress, he makes a huge fuss. he’s so sweet to you, always.”

“rafe, really, i’m alright. don’t worry about me.”

“stay at mine tonight, y/n. i’ll take care of you.” he sets 1000 dollars down on the table. he usually gives you a 100 or 200 dollar tip but never this much. you barely know rafe.

“rafe, no. i can’t take this. i don’t even know… uh, uh, rafe, i can’t.”

“stop mumbling and take it. your dad spends all his money on drugs and your brother’s too goddamn worried about god knows what to even be home to take care of you. so i’m going to man up and protect you, okay? so shut up.”

that night after your shift, you stay at rafe’s house. he lets you stay in sarah’s room since the camerons are away. for the first time in ages, you finally relax, safe from your abusive father. you fall asleep almost instantly, exhausted from the stress. rafe makes sure you’re comfortable, checking on you throughout the night. when you wake up in the morning, you find a note and breakfast waiting for you. the note reads:

“good morning, sweetheart. had to run some errands. i know we’re very different but i know what you’re going through. stay as long as you need. you’re safe here. - rafe.”

[featherandferns]

god's test (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | inspired by this song amongst others

content warning: abusive parents; allusions to s3xual abuse; drug use/misuse; sexual content (female and male receiving; p in v); unhealthy relationships; brief mentions/discussions of fertility | Some heavy themes in this so please feel free to message if you're unsure.

word count: 18k.

blurb: what if the Pogues never found El Dorado? Life in survival mode at the age of twenty-two sure had lost its shine. In that tarnish, JJ wonders if your relationship has too.

“To have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til' death do us part.”

JJ sits crossed legged on the floor of his living room. To his right is a half empty can of Coke and to his left is the plastic case for the VHS tape which is currently whirring in the player, displayed on the TV through grainy, wibbly lines. His bright blonde hair sticks every which way. The Goodwill sourced t-shirt is too big on his frame but his dad insisted he’d grow into it, and to stop his moaning and bitching. Be grateful, was his last warning. The shorts on his skinny legs seem to be getting smaller everyday, perhaps because JJ only seems to get taller. That slight discomfort is a lost thought right now. Instead, JJ is glued to the wedding video on the screen. Glued to the image of his mother, smiling up at his father, the two of them unaged and undamaged. The two of them are in love. 

“I do,” JJ’s dad, Luke, says in an almost unrecognisable tone. Then, he leans forward at the officiant’s approval and kisses JJ’s mother. JJ misses her deeply. His heart squeezes at the sight of her smile, turning to the camera with a beam. He finds his own lips twitching up too as if her happiness is contagious. Then the tape cuts suddenly to the reception. It seems a small affair with only a handful of friends and family. JJ can place his uncle and aunt, who cradles his cousin Ricky in her arms, and a few more of his dad’s crowd of so-called friends. His mother can be seen in the background talking to her parents - JJ’s grandparents. They’d made themselves scarce after she walked out on JJ and his dad. Never once did JJ think he’d lose not only his mother but his grandparents too. Loneliness likes company, it seems. 

Another sudden cut and it’s his parents dancing. Their first dance. The dark lighting of the hall messes with the low-quality cam-corder's exposure. They’re painted in rays of shadows and glow almost ethereal-like as they sway to the music. Luke whispers something in his new wife’s ear and she giggles, soundless as the crooning voice of Rod Stewart sings their wedding song: ‘Have I Told You Lately’. JJ grins. He decides then and there, at the big age of eight, that that’s what he wants. That sort of happiness. As if blinded by the cinema of it all, he forgets the reality. The mess that surrounds him in the neglected house; the absence of his mother and the recklessness of his father; the strange definition of love that’s been tied to the Maybank name. 

So distracted by the tape, JJ doesn’t hear his dad rouse in the other room. He doesn’t hear the sound of the creaking door or the aching floorboards, and when he finally catches sight of Luke staggering down the hallway, it’s too late. His dad has caught sound of the song and it’s as if he’s intoxicated again, only now with rage. He glares at JJ and makes a b-line to the television screen, coming face to face with his hidden wedding tape. He had no idea JJ had found it and stashed it for his own safe keeping. 

“What the damn hell do you think you’re doing?” he barks, turning to JJ. He grabs him by the shoulder with one hand and hoists him onto his feet. JJ’s tiny body floods with terror. His feet go numb and cold and his face burning hot. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, huh boy!?” 

JJ flinches at his father’s tone. His lip quivers. “I…I only wanted–”

“You only wanted to what, huh? Stealing things like the no-good son-of-a-bitch you are, eh?” Luke hollers, spit flying from his mouth and onto JJ’s rosy skin. 

“I just wanted to see mama,” JJ blubbers. 

“You ain’t ever seein’ her again, you hear me?” Luke shouts. He tosses JJ back onto the floor. He lands on his backside with a smack, flinching at the feeling, and looks up to see his dad aggressively messing with the player. A new wave of panic comes over JJ as he jumps to his feet, darting forward for the tape before his dad can snap it in two. To JJ, it isn’t just a stupid VHS. It’s his mother. 

“No! Gimme it!” JJ screeches, scratching and clawing at his father’s arms as he attempts to wrestle the tape from his hold. His small hand latches around it moments before Luke’s own smacks him clean across the cheek. The force sends him flying onto his side, reuniting with the floor. Sobbing, JJ clutches the tape close to his chest. His dad yells abuse at JJ, tumbling cuss words in casually amongst his berates. Keeping the tape close and safe to his stomach, JJ manages to his feet and faces up to his father. An anger that he’s never known before takes control. “I hate you!” 

Before his dad can lunge for him again, JJ darts for the front door. He almost trips down the stairs in his hurry. The sound of his dad’s footsteps behind him sound like a giant’s, pounding against the floorboards. He chokes on his sobs as he sprints away from the house. I’m never coming back, he thinks to himself. That’ll show him. He doesn’t dare check to see if his dad is following. Not until he’s well away from the house, almost completely shot of breath, panting and heaving, no tears left to cry. Finally, he stops. He looks down at the tape with shaking hands to find it safe and intact. Luke and Marie’s Wedding Tape, it says in black sharpie across the front. He hugs it against him as if hugging his mother.

The moment of tranquillity is broken by a loud whoop and holler. His head flashes to the side to find a girl climbing on the old pier. It’s nearly completely decayed, broken down by a hurricane a few years back. Now it’s just pillars of wood, splintering and misaligned.

Some adult on the new pier is yelling at you. “I’ll tell your father, missy! You listenin’? You get down from there now!” Beside them are some friends, blissfully ignoring the warnings, cheering you on. You turn to them and JJ catches sight of your smile. It reminds him of his mother’s and a warm feeling sparks somewhere in his chest, as if lighting a match in a damp cave. The sun twinkles above your head and that’s when JJ notices the streak of hot pink in your hair. Woah - Cool. And then you’re falling - hurling yourself into the air and flying down into the water - out of sight. He takes a step forward, as if to do something, and waits anxiously with the others for you to re-emerge. You break to the surface with a cackle. Your friends erupt in cheers and you giggle, splashing water as if aiming for them despite being metres down below the pier. And then you look straight at JJ. It's just for a second, only a second, but a second was enough. Eight-year-old JJ Maybank was in love.

6 Years Later

Confidence is a powerful armour. It makes you almost untouchable. Nobody messes with the mouthy kid. The kid who gets in fights; the kid who makes the room laugh. JJ knew what it was like to be on the bottom of the food chain and he was never going to willingly put himself there. At school, he made himself a staple. A delinquent, known for his short fuse and reckless choices. It kept the bully’s off his scent and gave him a good outlet for the repressed anger and hatred he held towards his father. Though, the older he got (now fourteen), the more JJ fought back. His dad could no longer throw him to the ground as easily. Not now that JJ had taken up working out and picking fights in the school yard. Luke wasn’t the only one who knew how to throw a right-hook now. And the most important lesson JJ had learnt? Never let them see you cry. 

The downsides? Cut lips, lingering bruises, and detention. So much detention. 

“Nice of you to join us, Maybank,” the teacher mutters, not bothering to look up from his newspaper as JJ loiters into the classroom after school on Thursday. 

“Happy to be back, sir,” JJ casually returns. He scribbles his name down on the sign up sheet, confirming his attendance, then scans the room.

There’s the regulars: Tommy Peach, who’s always doing time for selling whatever pills he can get his hands on in the parking lot; Ashley, who has a habit of smoking in the girl’s bathrooms; Colin, who got spotted with a gun in his backpack just the other day, supposedly just to ‘show it off’; and Pearl, who skipped three classes in one day (her record being four and a half). He catches her eye and winks - they’d made out behind the bike shed last week. You can spot the one-time offenders easily. They’re usually hanging their head at the very back, biting back tears, full of shame for letting down mommy and daddy. JJ had a certain distaste for them. He supposed it was because he knew his father could give less of a crap if JJ wound up in detention. If anything, JJ preferred it. Less time for him to be in his house and less risk of getting a beating for some slip-up. This time, the new offender is Patty Grayson - a goody-two-shoes smarty pants who had forgotten her homework. JJ’s surprised they didn’t let it slide given her track record. Finally, his eyes land on another new timer. 

You’re not hanging your head as if praying for forgiveness, nor are you sobbing your apologies into the abyss. No: you look rather comfortable and - if anything - bored, as you lounge in your seat. A bottle of silver nail polish sits on the desk as you paint your nails. As if feeling his stare, you glance up and meet his gaze. You frown. Right, yeah, I’m being weird. JJ decides to take a seat next to you. He watches you in his peripheral vision for a while as you paint and paint. At one point, the teacher heads to the staff kitchen for dinner, giving a half-arsed warning about sneaking out. Pearl is happy to skip detention, probably addicted to the thrill, but everyone else stays sat. Suddenly, you look at JJ. 

“Can I help you?”

“Huh?”

“You keep looking at me,” you say, irritated. 

“I do?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, y’know…” You quirk a brow, waiting for his reply, and JJ scrambles for one. “Your hair.”

You frown. “What?”

“Your hair,” JJ uselessly repeats. 

“What about it?”

“It’s purple.”

“Yeah. I dye it. It’s not my natural colour, idiot,” you reply. 

“It looks nice,” JJ tells you. You’re visibly taken back, blinking at him for a second. 

“Oh,” you mumble, lifting a hand to pet it, “thanks.”

“You ain’t ever been to detention before, right?” JJ checks, finding it easier to converse now that you’ve calmed down. 

You laugh. It sounds just the same as when you were little, from the first time JJ saw you, but only deeper. More mature. “Cause I’m good at not gettin’ caught, unlike you.”

“Oh, you been keepin’ tabs on me or somethin’?” JJ grins. 

“You hold the record for the most detentions, Maybank. Sorta puts you on the map," you say with a roll of your eyes. 

Holy shit, she knows my name. 

“Maybe you’ll have to teach me your ways some time,” JJ smoothly quips. 

Shaking your head, you turn your focus back to painting your nails. “I work alone.”

Like some dork, JJ watches you for a while. Something tells him you know he is as there’s this little smile on your lips. His eyes trail down from your face to your arms and soon to your hands. Your knuckles are bruised and scabbed over and JJ frowns, curious and concerned despite having only just officially met you. Ever since the day at the pier back when he was eight, JJ had been vaguely aware of your existence. You were in the year above at school and undeniably cool. He’d seen you skating in the parking lot, caught you getting lectured for shoplifting at the local grocery shop for a candy bar, noticed you helping (who he assumed was) your dad fish, and seen you from time to time in the halls. The only person who was aware of his infatuation was John B, who tortured JJ relentlessly for it. Over the years, your hair has undergone many changes. At one point it was buzzed completely off. He didn’t see you much that year, come to think. Now it hangs just past your shoulders, a deep, enticing purple. It caught him off guard because only last week it was royal blue. Not that he was keeping track or anything…

“Here.”

JJ snaps out of his daydream to find you holding out something to him. A thin, white stick, rolled rather wonky. 

“You want some?”

“Won’t we get caught?”  JJ reflexively asks. 

“Boo. Pussy,” you teasingly return, retracting the offer. You briefly glance to the doorway before retrieving a lighter: bright, shiny silver and square. You light the end and take a drag. There’s a sweet, sickly smell that comes from it. 

“I ain’t a pussy,” JJ counters. There’s a smirk on your face as he takes the joint from you, guiding it to his lips to inhale. It catches uncomfortably in his throat and chest, making him cough. Laughing, you consolingly pat his back. He clenches his eyes shut: so embarrassing. 

“You good?” you giggle. 

“Never better,” JJ manages out through his chokes, giving you a shaky thumbs up. 

“First time?”

He shakes his head but you’re unconvinced. Smiling, you dig about in your pocket to retrieve a set of house keys. JJ watches as you scratch something into the metal of your lighter. He takes another hit of the joint as you do so, managing better this second time around. As he goes to hand it back, you trade him for your lighter. 

“Here,” you say, passing it to him. He takes it and looks at your inscription. JJ. His lips twitch in a smile. Glancing to you, you light-heartedly explain, “your first stoner lighter.”

As you finish taking another drag, the teacher’s footsteps sound from down the hall. Cool as a cat, you put the joint out on the underside of your chair and slip it back into a little metal box decorated with Powerpuff Girls stickers. It slips safely into your bag just as the teacher rounds into the room. At first, JJ worries you’re caught, as the teacher’s finger singles you out. But then he tosses his thumb over his shoulder. 

“Your dad’s here early to pick you up,” he tells you. 

If you’re happy to be leaving early, you don’t show it. If JJ didn’t know better, he’d even say you’re reluctant as you pack up your stuff. Shucking your backpack over your shoulder, you flash JJ a smile, rising to your feet. 

“Well, hopefully I’ll see you around, Maybank.”

“Yeah, same here,” JJ says, smiling. 

You walk past the desk and head out the door. JJ’s sure it’s the effect of you rather than the weed that leaves him feeling more dazed than ever before in his life. 

Two Years Later

What better way to lay-low than by throwing a kegger? JJ’s logic was undisputed. Not only had he encouraged the Pogues to hang onto the money and the gun that they'd found in the motel room, but he also got them to throw a last-minute gathering at the Boneyard. Honestly, his genius should be rewarded. 

As he mingles through the ever growing crowd, the sun growing darker by the minutes, JJ peruses the options. Some tourons had shown up: clueless but eager as they got roped into drinking games and conversations, and hit on constantly by locals. The kooks were mostly keeping to themselves, happy to drink the beers and cans brought by the people on the cut. Typical. Pearl catches JJ’s eye and she tips her cup at him in greeting from across the way, a seductive glint in her eyes and a telling message in her smile. JJ lazily tosses a hand up in return. They’d hooked up a few times now but he wasn’t feeling it tonight.

As if guided by fate, you come perfectly into JJ’s line of sight. You’re drinking from a red solo cup, chatting with some of your friends, pretty in an oversized tee and shorts. Again, just as you had in detention two years prior, your eyes catch onto his. This time, you smile. Saying something to your friend before heading over to JJ (who’s half certain he hit his head earlier and might be hallucinating). 

“Enjoying yourself?” JJ asks the minute you’re in front of him. He’s taller now. Ever growing in his confidence; sex does that to a guy. It makes them feel invincible. 

“I’m guessing your group is the one to thank for this kegger then?” 

JJ grins. “We know how to throw a good party.”

“I’ll say,” you smile. “I wish there was more music though.”

“You dance?”

“Sometimes. If I’m with the right person,” comes your sly response, smiling up at him. “You look different since detention.”

JJ would like to think so: that was two years ago. “Really? Different how?”

“Taller. Fitter.”

“Hotter?”

You laugh as you say, “you’re pretty sure of yourself, huh?”

“I was told confidence is sexy,” JJ returns. “What’d you think?”

You don’t say anything but JJ knows he isn’t crazy when you take a sip of your drink, your eyes scanning over his body leisurely as you do. You give a small hum. 

“So, got tired of the purple?” JJ asks, gesturing to your hair. It’s long now and seemingly your natural hue again, like it was that day at the pier all those years ago. There’s now little strands of tinsel in it that reflect different colours in a silverish shine depending on how the light hits it. Your nose ring is new too, though JJ noticed that the minute you had that done. He noticed you a lot, even if he never spoke to you. You never did to him so he just assumed to stay clear. Besides, there was a rumour that you went out with Tommy Peach a few months back and JJ didn’t feel like getting his ass handed to him. JJ was good at fighting now, as unfortunate as that was to admit, and he was aware he was in good shape, but Tommy was feral and tall. God knows why you wanted to go out with a scumbag like that, but JJ supposed he wasn’t much of a step up either. 

“My dad hated it,” you say. “And I wanted a change.”

“Shame. I liked the purple.”

“So you don’t like it like this?” you wonder. “Bummer. I was gonna try and shoot my shot with you but guess I’ve lost my chance…”

JJ’s eyes somehow don’t fall out of his head. He chuckles, almost nervously, and clears his throat. “Say what?”

You roll your eyes . “When a girl gives you her lighter and says she hopes she sees you around, JJ, it’s her way of saying ‘you’re cute, we should hang’.”

Oh. 

Laughing, as if hearing his inner monologue, you shrug. “Guess I got tired of waiting for you to make the first move. Lucky for you, I’m two beers in and that seems like enough confidence to come over”

“Two beers? I don’t wanna be taking advantage of you,” JJ teases, making you laugh. 

“Can’t believe you’re accusing me of being a lightweight when you nearly died after smoking your first joint.”

“Woah! Low blow!”

“I thought I’d murdered you! I was scared you were allergic or some shit,” you giggle. 

JJ grins down at you and tries to retrace his steps to how he got here, stood on the beach, talking to you and having you actively hit on him. It feels like a wet dream he’d concoct on lonely nights. He stays in that borderline stupor as the two of you talk and talk. You’re funny, but JJ already knew that, and you’re an adrenaline junky too, but JJ knew that as well. The two of you like the same kind of music so that leads to a huge discussion which almost becomes an argument of who was better: Kid Cudi or J. Cole? The more the drinks flow, the more your hand finds solace on his thigh, and the more his on yours. Soon enough JJ's foot’s rubbing leisurely at your ankle, personal space a long disputed myth, and he’s fighting the urge to kiss you. He’s not sure why he’s dragging it out when you’re obviously into him. Maybe he just wants to keep the anticipation alive for a little bit longer. After all, he’s wanted this since he was eight years old. 

The moment is interrupted by someone hollering your name. As you look up, JJ realises how dark it is. It’s officially night now with the moon high in the sky. A few people have pulled on sweaters as the evening has cooled, especially with the seafront breeze, but JJ feels burning hot. He spots someone waving at you and beside them is a girl crouched in the sand. You cuss and get up. 

“That’s my friend. I better go help,” you hurriedly explain. You pass JJ your empty cup and give an apologetic smile. Then, you press a brief kiss to his lips. It's so brief that it barely feels real, and JJ doesn’t register it until you’re already walking away. “I’ll be back soon! Sorry!”

JJ watches as you hurry over and help out your vomiting buddy. Sighing, bummed, he looks around and tries to track down his friends. The alcohol hits him when he stands, flooding from his brain, down to his body like ice cold water. He staggers for only a moment in the direction of John B, filling up the cups in his hands on the way as if willingly ignoring his body’s messages. He whistles out to catch his best friend’s attention, offering him one of the cup’s of beer. But Sarah Cameron and her douchebag boyfriend Topper make their way past, and something inside of JJ seeks mayhem. He offers it out to her instead but Topper tries to lay claim. 

“That’s nice of you man, but I didn’t ask you,” JJ returns. “If you said ‘pretty please’, maybe. But you didn’t.”

“Oh! Pretty please!” a squiffy Topper checks. 

“Yeah,” JJ replies. “So, Sarah, I promise–”

The beer hits JJ’s face in a non-refreshing wake-up. His anger tips quick like a nuclear bomb. His hands come up to Topper’s shirt, grabbing him before shoving him back. John B’s hand comes up to JJ’s chest, firmly trying to hold him back. 

“You’re so funny man!” JJ sarcastically urges. Before he can push it further, Topper says something that has John B lurching at him and soon enough, a full on fist fight begins. Pope is quick to intervene with JJ, holding him back, and no matter how much the latter struggles, he can’t seem to get to his best friend. Concerning seeps into the anger as he watches Topper lay into John B, kicking him into the water. And then pride when John B starts to fight back. “Give it to him, man!”

The night feels as though it’s split into two as JJ loses himself in watching the fight. His conversation with you might have happened years ago as his attention homes in on the flying fists and chants of the watchers. And then it all turns sour. Topper holds John B down into the water, face smushed into the sand, and all he can hear is Sarah begging for him to stop. JJ fidgets nervously, eager to do something, unsure of what. Then, another genius idea. 

It feels out of body as he retrieves the gun and checks the safety. As he makes his way over to the water and presses it against Topper’s head. It doesn’t feel like he’s in control of his body when JJ clicks the safety off. Topper stills beneath him.

“Yeah, you know what that is,” he warns through clenched teeth. “Your move, broski.”

Nothing but the waves. Nothing but his heartbeat. Nothing but John B’s choked breathes in the water. 

“Put the gun down!”

“Did you say something, princess?” JJ asks Sarah, focus on Topper’s hands. Eventually, they lift off John B’s weak body. The rich asshole repeats that they’re good and JJ shoves him down. But he’s still so angry. He’s always so angry. The mentality comes back from when he first started school. Never be the weak one. Never let them get the upper hand. Assert your dominance. He raises the gun into the air and turns to the dying crowd. “Okay, everyone, listen up! Get the hell off our side of the island!”

The gun fires twice, the recoil minimal. It cracks in the silence of the night. A few people scream, alarmed, and then they start to run. 

JJ comes back to his body when Kiara shoves him. An argument breaks out between himself, Pope and Kie, and as the two others rush to help John B (who collapses back into the waves), JJ finally remembers the night. The whole night. He remembers you. As he looks out into the mass of bodies rushing away from the scene of the almost crime, he spots you. You look conflicted, for only a second, and then you leave too. 

Shit. 

The next day, JJ kills the time in the mid-morning with target practice in the back yard. The cops had swung by earlier and he thought it right to celebrate keeping the gun. Your whistle sounds like a birdcall. JJ’s head whips around at the sound, startled, and it seems to amuse you. He lowers his gun and frowns, confused at the sight of you. 

“How d’you know I live here?”

“I have my sources,” you smile, tapping the side of your nose. You wander leisurely into his back yard toward him as if you’ve been there thousands of times before. Nodding to the gun in his hand, you quirk a brow. “So, they didn’t take it off you?”

“Let me off with a warning,” JJ shrugs. “They couldn’t find the gun and have no proof that I kept it…”

“Ah. Loopholes,” you hum. 

When you come to a pause beside him, JJ awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “Look, I’m real sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

“Freak me out how?” you frown. 

“With the whole…gun…thing.”

Laughing, you shake your head. “That ain’t why I left JJ.”

“It ain’t?”

“No! I mean, Topper looked as though he wasn’t gonna let up, so,” you say, shrugging in agreement with JJ’s previous actions. “I just can’t go back to prison anytime soon. My dad’ll kill me.”

“Back to prison?” JJ says. He shouldn’t be as impressed (or turned on) by that as he is. 

“Ooo, the big scary place, I know,” you grin, teasing, before randomly making a grab for the gun. JJ barks out a laugh, holding it up and out of reach. “Come on! Lemme have a go!”

“You ever shoot before?” JJ asks, eyeing you up. 

Rolling your eyes, you nod. “We have a BB in our house that I fire around all the time. I wanna see how this one feels.”

“I don’t know. I shouldn’t give a weapon to a known criminal, right?” JJ says, tone almost flirtatious. 

“Come on. You can do the whole ‘let me show you’ thing.”

Lowering the gun, JJ chuckles, befuddled. “The what?”

“You know! When guys wanna feel a girl up they pretend to teach them how to do stuff. Like a tennis instructor or something. They’re all like ‘let me show you’.”

“You tellin’ me you got a tennis instructor?” 

“Yeah, and a mansion with three yachts - now come on!”

Shaking his head, laughing, JJ relents. He hands you the gun, safety on, and partly to follow along with your joke, but mostly to feel your body close to his, JJ stands almost fully behind you. He checks which is your dominant hand and guides your arms up into position. He shifts the position of your fingers. Your hair catches slightly in the wind and the smell of fruit and herbs dulls his senses. When he speaks again, you giggle. 

“Your breath tickles,” you mutter. 

“It does?” JJ checks, purposefully speaking even closer against the skin of your neck. You squirm and laugh and JJ has no idea how any of this happened, but he sure as hell isn’t complaining. “You gotta keep still.” 

As if to coax you to do so, JJ plants one of his hands on the side of your waist. Your breathing seems to catch with that, all giggles dead on your tongue, and JJ struggles to bite back his smirk. His chin rests comfortably on your shoulder as he follows your line of vision. You click the safety off under his instruction and then fire. He feels the power of the gun run down your arms, the recoil making your body jilt only slightly. Clicking the safety on again, you lower the gun and turn your head. Eyes half-hooded, you look up from his lips into his eyes. JJ notices a small, relatively fresh cut under your eye. Was that there last night? That train of thought derails when your tongue peaks out, dampening your lips. JJ loses all patience. His lips are on yours, kissing you, hand tightening just so on your side. You carelessly drop the gun to the floor and turn in his hold. Hands on his face, on his shoulders, around his neck, in his hair…JJ kisses you until he’s not sure what his name is anymore. Even then, he kisses you still. 

From there, the two of you were intertwined in one another’s lives. There was no other way to put it: JJ adored you. It was as if you constantly shared a common thought: JJ had never met someone so like himself. Two sides of the same stone. The Pogues noticed it easily. You didn’t exactly have to ask to join the gang. The fact that JJ trusted you enough to bring you around spoke volumes to his friends. They’d never met one of his previous situationships or flings before, and from that they could recognise this was something different. Seeing the two of you together just drove that point home faster. Birds of a feather. When the wild goose chase surrounding the Royal Merchant cropped up, you joined that too. Pope joked that there was something wrong with your amygdala, which upon explanation meant that you seemed to have a pretty low fear factor. It came after you literally wrestled Barry for the gun when they got held at gunpoint. All you’d done was shrug and said that you’d known “true fear” and that wasn’t it. Nobody knew what that meant, including JJ, but he had a feeling that he might after he dropped you home one time. 

The Chateau had become almost as familiar to you as it was to JJ. The pair of you had claimed the porch as your go-to smoking spot. One Tuesday afternoon, you sit sprawled in the armchair: head on one armrest and legs swung over the other. Your now lilac highlighted hair dangles in two braids. JJ is keeping himself entertained by tracing his eyes up and down your legs, over your stomach and chest, up to your dozed out face, and back again. The two of you were smoking hash, passing it back and forth leisurely, sharing mindless musings about life and the world and what things might be like if you actually found the gold. 

“I’d buy a house,” you say. 

“Lame.”

“A big house,” you continue, ignoring him and gesturing in front of you as if visualising it. “It’d be pastel blue with big white shutter-style windows and a wrap-around porch. There’d be one of those porch swings sat out front. Oh! And flowers. A shit ton of flowers.”

“You can’t even keep a cactus alive,” JJ snorts. 

“I’d hire a gardener. Duh,” you say, rolling your eyes. 

“Anything else?” JJ wonders. He keeps a mental checklist: blue house; white shutters…

“A dog,” you smile. “And a cat.”

“Alright then.” Maybe it’s the manner that he says it that has you looking at him, amused. “I’ll do it.”

“You’ll ‘do it’?” you chuckle, raising your brows. 

“Yeah. When we find the gold–”

“If we find the gold–”

“When,” JJ insists, making you laugh, “I’ll get you your house and your dog.”

“Don’t forget the cat,” you warn, pointing at him. 

“Christ, lady! And your cat.”

“Good,” you smile.

You look back to the ceiling and slip your eyes shut, sighing contentedly. JJ chuckles, shaking his head, gazing at you as if you sculpted the planets and personally hung them in the solar system. It’s short lived bliss, however, because your phone pings. Then again, and again, until it’s nothing but an ongoing buzz of noise. JJ frowns at it and you quickly reach over to the window ledge where it’s precariously sat. The moment your eyes scan the screen, you sit up. Everything about your demeanour shifts. JJ sees the second you switch to panic. 

“I gotta go,” you mumble. You swing your legs off the sofa and stand. JJ’s quick to follow. 

“Everything okay?”

“I just gotta go home right now,” you reply, already making your way down the porch steps. JJ ditches the spoon pipe on the coffee table and catches up. 

“I’ll take you on my bike,” he says, grabbing your hand and guiding you to it. You don’t argue and he doesn’t ask for an explanation for the urgency. Wordlessly, the two of you climb on - your arms tethering around his middle - and JJ starts the engine. Speed limits become a pleasantry rather than a courtesy as JJ speeds to your house. Your phone doesn’t let up the whole journey and with every ping, JJ bumps it up by another mile per hour. It’s a skidding halt when he stops outside your house. He’d only been there a handful of times before, usually to pick you up. Similarly to JJ, you didn’t like going home all that much. You’re climbing off the bike before JJ shuts the engine off. Seemingly at the sound of the engine, your dad emerges in the front door. You turn to JJ. He doesn’t recognise the look on your face. 

It terrifies him. 

“JJ, you have to leave - now,” you tell him. 

He frowns, brows tugging together. “What’re you–”

“Just leave. Go. Please, JJ,” you push, glancing between him and your approaching father. Something softens in your tone, akin to desperation. “Please.”

JJ looks to your dad just as he passes the threshold of the porch, then looks to you once more as if needing approval. You nod as if understanding. The same thought, always shared. Then JJ’s turning tightly in the makeshift drive of your house and starting off down the road before your dad reaches you. He acutely registers the funny feeling, tight in his chest as if something was squeezing his heart and lungs in a vice. It was the same feeling JJ got whenever he went home. 

The same feeling JJ got whenever he saw his own father. 

As the months went on, the relationship you and JJ shared was soaked in marjuana and sweat. Smoking in the morning and fucking through the night. Not only did you encourage JJ’s idiocy, but you joined it. It was as if you were there to enable the other. Shoplifting beers, pier jumping in the thick of night, skinny dipping before dusk, pulling crazy stunts with the others that nearly wound up getting you killed more times to count. But just like JJ, you were loyal. It was as if the minute you became a Pogue, you wore it like a military title, nothing short of honoured. You’d lay your life down for the group and for the hunt for gold.

JJ wasn’t sure who said I love you first. He’s not even sure if either of you ever said it. You don’t have to say I love you to say I love you. Besides, two avoidant, daddy issue riddled teenagers didn’t make for the most textbook healthy relationship. The two of you would fight and it was bad when you did. But it was a rarity. There was little time for blow-out arguments when you were running from one place to another, chasing lead after lead. Hell, even when you seemed to have time to breathe, something else always came up. 

“I never make good grades in school. When I get out, I act like a fool. I come in the party and cause a commotion. Yeah, I’m smooth they call me lotion.”

JJ cracks up with the others, breaking his beatboxing rhythm, as Pope loses his verse. He has a more than comfortable buzz going: energised by the beer and mellowed out by the weed. JJ thought he could handle his stuff well until he met you. This was the first time in a long time the two of you had properly partied together, outside of sharing a joint or doing edibles on an evening. You were about seven cans deep, one joint smoked and two lines of coke snorted. Your hair, now red, was damp from the hot tub; your nose ring sparkling in the disco ball’s reflecting light. JJ tried to keep his attention on the gang but no matter what, his eyes kept running back to you. The bikini top you’re wearing is truly a cruel design. Whoever invented it hated anybody who admired the female figure: they designed it to torture them. The liquor certainly didn’t help the situation, nor did your knowing glances and sly smiles. 

"Think Kanye might have some serious competition there," you sardonically quip.

“Alright, alright, let’s hear it then,” Pope challenges, turning the focus to you. Everyone ooo’s dramatically as you laugh. You take a hit of your freshly rolled joint and shrug. As you rise out of the water, moving to sit on the outer edge of the hot tub, the gang erupts into cheers. JJ's mesmerised by the way the droplets of water race down over your tits, trickling down your chest.

“Okay, alright, well someone gimme a beat, at least,” you say. 

JJ’s happy to indulge. Laughing, you bop your head along and try to follow. 

“I failed the first grade in school, but my teacher told me I’m a cool dude. The kids in the playground scattered, cause my bars would leave them battered–”

The gang whoops and you crack up, trying desperately to stay on track. JJ’s trying desperately not to stare at your chest and lose track of his makeshift beat. 

“When I fuck they call me lewd, cause I get freaky when I’m in the wrong mood. My boy never seems to complain, but his dick might be in some pain.”

JJ practically chokes on his laughter. There’s a symphony of cheers and jests and (in Pope’s case) groans from the others, and you throw your hands up in surrender. 

“Y’all asked for it! I’m jus’ saying!” you giggle, sinking back into the water. You take another hit of your joint and wink across to JJ. His dick twitches uselessly in his swim shorts as you do so. Such a fucking tease.   

“You two were made for each other, Goddamn,” Kiara chuckles.

The pair of you laugh it off but JJ feels his heart stir at the notion. Maybe it’s the weed talking or the alcohol intoxicating his thoughts, but the more time JJ spends with you, the more he’s certain that you two were meant to find each other. There’s no other explanation for it. You were an entire world in one small human being, filled with stories and secrets, some of which he might never know, but most he’d spend his life wanting to. 

As the night stretches on and the drinks continue to flow, the mood simmers down from a bubbly celebration to an almost sentimental reunion. The hot tub has been abandoned as the mosquitos began to gather and the air began to cool, and JJ was sick of hearing you and Sarah drop hints about how you were “turning pruney.” So now you sit in the deck chairs with Kiara and Sarah and John B, watching JJ and Pope wrestle. Grappling on Pope’s upper arms, JJ tries to get the upper leg. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, go for the leg,” he lightly encourages his lesser violent friend. With that, Pope tackles JJ onto the floor. He hits the ground with a gentle smack. “You got a new technique now, huh?”

Pope rises in victory, pretty drunk, arms in the air. JJ laughs, sitting up to notice a beer extended out to him in offer from you. He takes it with a grin, having two large swigs. 

“I’m done. I’m out of here,” Pope announces to nobody in particular, walking away from the campfire. 

“You want a round two?” 

“Yeah, I think I’ll take my losses,” Pope replies. JJ begins wandering back over to you with a shrug just as Kiara suddenly gets up from her seat. She flashes Sarah some kind of look that girls must track better than boys, as Sarah and yourself gape at her. 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Way to be discreet!” JJ hollers after them. When he steals Kiara’s chair, sitting beside you, you’re still giggling. 

“Okay, am I just oblivious or did nobody else notice them vibing on each other?” you wonder, looking to the others. 

“Dude. Seriously?” JJ sniggers. 

“I didn’t notice!”

“How could you not– You know what? It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Only one of us needs to be the love expert here,” JJ reassures, stretching his arm out over the back of your chair in what he thinks is a rather suave manner. You snort, gently brushing it off. 

“Love expert? Uh-huh. Sure, kiddo.”

“Kiddo,” John B mutters, amused. 

JJ scoffs, grinning at you. “Oh really?”

“Yep,” you return, not quite sure what you’re arguing over now. JJ decides to put an end to it by squeezing the sides of your exposed stomach, tickling your skin and causing you to squirm. As he does so, John B mumbles something about being out of beer. Sarah follows him and leaves you and JJ in the company of the music, the cicadas and chickens. 

“Thought you danced,” JJ says, referring to the music, thinking back to the night at the kegger. 

“I might do later.”

JJ just nods and the two of you smile at one another, the playfulness of the moment easing away the same way the arousal had earlier in the hottub. 

“You’re so handsome,” you quietly tell him. "My good looking boy, huh?"

JJ chuckles, looking down, bashful whenever you threw compliments like that at him. He could handle ‘sexy’ or ‘hot’ rather well, took them in stride, but words like handsome were like flakes of gold being sprinkled in his hair. They felt valuable, especially when they came from your mouth. Not always the best with words, JJ thanks the self-medication for what falls out of his mouth next. 

“You’re the prettiest Goddamn thing on this planet.”

You’re visibly stunned and JJ wants to high-five himself. Giving him a coy smile, you lean your head back against your seat, staring into the star scattered sky. 

“God, I could just stay here forever,” you sigh. 

JJ mimics your actions. He traces the stars and tries to see if he can make constellations of your face. He glances at you and notices how they reflect on your eyes, as if scattering diamonds into your irises to make them shimmer. Your skin is kissed amber by the fairy lights strung in the branches above. Everything just makes you glow: ethereal. A foot kicking his own snaps JJ out of his lovesick stupor. A rather amused John B smirks knowingly down at him. 

“It’s creepy to stare, man,” John B joshingly berates. 

“He does it all the time,” you mumble. “That’s why I asked him out.”

Sarah laughs at that and you crack up too, but before another conversation can begin, your laughter dies down and your brows furrow. 

“What was that?” John B asks, as if reading your mind. 

“Your chickens?” JJ wonders, having heard nothing but the incessant clucking of the birds. 

“It sounded like a car door,” you mumble. JJ, distracted, begins to cluck like a chicken, hoping to lighten the mood, more drunk than he thought he was, but your hand presses over his mouth to silence him. You rise to your feet slowly and JJ decides to follow. He squints into the distance. 

“I think someone’s here,” John B mutters. 

“Up the trees. Quickly” you instruct, fast to take action. 

You shut off the music as Sarah hurries to put out the fire. JJ decides to help her, tossing handfuls of sand atop of the flames. He looks to the tree to find you already a decent way up. He stands by the bottom of the other tree with John B to help give Sarah a boost, aware of the fragility of her stitches, and then lets John B go up before himself. He settles on the same branch as you, a hand protectively settling on your waist. You’d already taken a rather reckless course of action in Charleston with Renfield, trying to tackle the taser from his hands to buy all of you more time to run. In case you felt the urge to drop from the trees in some surprise attack, JJ could now hold you back. 

Sure enough, only a couple of minutes later, Rafe and Barry creep into the backyard. JJ feels you stiffen and he tightens his grip just slightly in reassurance. They didn’t know you were in the trees. God bless your quick thinking. Barry makes his way into the house, gun raised and ready, whilst Rafe studies the spots you’d all been relaxing in only moments prior. 

“Where the hell are you?” he mumbles to himself. 

None of you speak. None of you dare breathe let alone move. JJ looks to John B and Sarah, who look just as troubled as he feels. Rafe was unpredictable. Unstrung. And it was easy to assume that JJ was not on Barry’s nice list, that was for sure. As they sit and lie in wait, praying not to be spotted, Barry and Rafe seem to decide that nobody’s home. As he’s about to take a sigh of relief, Rafe fires the gun up into the trees. His heart jumps and his chest heaves. The bullet ricochets off the trunk of the tree near his back. You flinch in JJ’s hold at the gunshots and the shock nearly has you losing your balance. JJ quickly shifts his hand higher up your side, leaning as close to you as physically possible to whisper in your ear. 

“I got you,” he reassures. 

Barry thankfully ushers Rafe away at that point but none of you dare move until you the car is long out of sight. Sighing, you relax against JJ and him against you. It was ironic how the two of you were no strangers to violence and yet, the same spark of fear was alight anytime either of you were faced with it.  

You see, the same way ‘I love you’ didn’t need an explanation, neither did yours and JJ’s homelives. JJ never intended to introduce you to his father and he never met yours. More times than not, you’d meet and hang and sleep at the Chateau. If you spent time at one of your two house’s, it was when it was empty. The cuts and bruises that would appear on either of your bodies never came with questioning. Somehow, someway, the two of you knew how and where. You’d soundlessly clean them and console the other and the whole thing would be as forgotten as a terrorist attack: over, in the back of the mind, but never fully erased. The anger JJ felt whenever he saw you after you’d had a run-in with your father was different to that which he felt when he had a run-in with his own. Deeper, darker, more vengeful. One night, it reached its crux. 

JJ wakes up with a start. At first he isn’t sure what snapped him out of sleep. Then, he hears it again. A faint creaking in the floorboards from the main body of his house. His house that he now lives in alone. What if his dad came back? JJ gets out of bed dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpant shorts. He slowly picks up a spanner that’s laying on his bedroom floor, ditched after a day trying to switch out the deck of his skateboard, and pushes his door open carefully. He slowly inches down the almost pitch-black hallway. The only light is that from the window: moonbeams that shine through the glass. 

At the sight of your silhouette, JJ lets out a heavy sigh. The spanner falls to the ground with an echoing thud. 

“Jesus Christ, you scared the crap outta me,” JJ says with a relieved laugh. He makes his way across the room to you but his smile fades when he notices how stiff you are. “You a’right?”

This close, he can begin to make out your face through the dark. It’s haunting.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” JJ breathes, horrified.

Dark bags sit under your eyes which are hollowed out as if you’d been lost at sea, a vacant stare that almost looks past him. Your lip is quivering. Small, shaky, shallow breaths come in and out of your mouth. The worst part? The blood. 

His hands fly up toward your face and your eyes clamp shut quickly as preparing for a hit. JJ freezes before he touches your skin, slowing his movements, trying to ease his own panic. His eyes scan your features, counting the injuries, trying to see the damage beneath the gore.

“What the fuck happened?”

You don’t talk. Nothing but that same ominous silence. You’re in shock. JJ’s seen it before from when he pulled over at a motorcycle crash. It’s as if the mind retreats in on itself and guards from the unpredictable. JJ swallows and clenches his jaw, trying to steal himself. 

“A’right, we, uh, we gotta clean you up,” he manages. He carefully links his fingers through yours and feels your barely tangible grip. Then he guides you into the bathroom. Lowers you gently onto the toilet seat. In his peripheral vision, he sees no sign of movement or acknowledgement as he retrieves the beloved first aid kit from the bathroom cupboard. It balances precariously on the edge of the sink as he digs about for cleaning supplies. 

JJ starts with your face. Your upper lip is busted at the edge, coated in dry blood but already beginning to scab. When you get in as many bruise ups as JJ, you learn to have a strange appreciation and fascination with the human body in how it heals. The antiseptic must sting but you don’t even blink. You just stare past him. Even before, you’d never been this detached. You might be angry or frustrated or even upset, but never absent. Never this. The blood around your eye comes from a gash just across your right brow. There’s an impressive bruise on the apple of your left cheek and a telling pink handprint that refuses to fade on your right. The fury begins to chip at JJ’s resolve.

Following your bizarre routine, JJ moves to unbutton your shirt, to check for any signs of internal bleeding, broken ribs, open cuts or ugly bruises across your upper body. The minute his fingers brush your sternum, your hands fly up. He’s not even sure how he winds up on the floor and it takes a moment to piece together the seconds and register that it was you. Frowning, thoroughly alarmed, JJ’s head shoots up to find your chest heaving. You make a noise as if you’re crying but no tears fall. His lips part in horror and his mind scrambles for any explanation other than the obvious. 

“Woah, woah, woah, hey,” JJ hurries, rocking onto his knees and planting his hands reassuringly on yours. Your whole body is shaking. “It’s a’right, yeah? Jus’ me. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Your eyes clamp shut and the tears begin to fall.

"You're safe now."

After a trembling inhale, you begin to sob. Heartbroken, hideous, harrowing sobs. JJ feels tears swirl in his waterline at the sight and sound. He knew you better than anyone - better than the Lord himself - and to see you so far from who you are was like seeing someone’s body turn inside out. Unsure of what to do, he wraps his arms around you in a tight embrace and lets you fall into him.

You just cry. 

Later, JJ sits outside the bathroom. His back is pressed against the door. Inside, he can hear the slosh of the bath water from time to time when you shift. He meddles with the rings on his fingers. His teeth gnaw on his lower lip. JJ assesses his options. He knows the “right” thing to do and he knows the “wrong” thing to do, and he knows the one he prefers out of the two, even if he shouldn't. His eyes flit over to the pile of your clothes that he’d taken out the room with him, back turned to give you privacy when you changed (as if you hadn’t given your body to him countless times before). The blood stained shirt. The shorts that had a telling rip at the crotch, the zip practically shattered. The missing panties. His throat turns thick and his eyes clench shut, forehead falling down against his clenched fists. He tries desperately to breathe through the anger. Before he can reach any sort of conclusion, he hears you get out of the bathtub. A few minutes later, the twisting doorknob prompts him to stand. You stand dressed in his clothes and offer him a small smile, and JJ feels his whole body sigh with relief. 

“How you feelin’?” JJ asks. 

You shrug, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Exhausted.”

“Anything hurting still?”

“No,” you say. You walk past him and into his bedroom and he follows. Climbing onto his bed, you wrap yourself up on his side in the blankets. JJ heads to the kitchen to grab some water and pain meds before coming back and joining you, sitting against the headrest, unsure whether to touch you or not. You seem to answer the question for him. You cuddle into his side and nestle your head against his upper chest. His hands coil safely around your body, holding you close, and he plants a kiss on top of your head. Then he finally speaks. 

“We need to go to the cops.”

You sigh and close your eyes. “JJ, no–”

“You don’t even gotta press charges but they have to know.”

“I don’t want to do that.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you know how it is, JJ,” you argue, sitting up to face him. “It’s my word against his and he never technically did anything. They’ll take one look at him and listen to my story, and then probably get me to recount it a million times over to a million other strangers. To a million other men. It’s humiliating and it’s pointless and I don’t want to do it.”

“It ain’t pointless and there’s nothing humiliating about it,” JJ insists. “You’re the victim here–”

“Don’t call me that,” you snap, glaring at him. 

Sighing, JJ closes his eyes and clenches the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his cool. The last thing you need tonight is another fight. Besides, it’s not as if you’re wrong. JJ trusted the police as far as he could throw them; he didn’t doubt that they’d be useless. But the thought of you going back to your dad and for him to get away with what he did…JJ didn’t know what other option you really had. Your fingers gently wrap around JJ’s hand, easing it away from his face, coaxing his eyes to meet yours. 

“Two more months, JJ.”

He sighs again but you’re quick to continue. 

“Two more months and I’m eighteen and he isn’t my legal guardian anymore! I don’t have to deal with the whole rigged court system or with a foster home - I can just be rid of him for good.”

“Two more months? You think I’m gonna let you go back there for two more months after this?” JJ scoffs, eyeing up your injuries. His stomach churns and jaw ticks at the thought of what could’ve happened if you hadn’t managed to get the upper hand. You sigh and look away. 

“I don’t know…Maybe he won’t do it again.”

“If he does it once, he’ll do it again,” JJ mutters. He remembers having the same thought the first time his dad hit him. It was an accident. He apologised. He didn’t mean it. By the end, JJ was on cloud nine if he went a week without a smack. But your situation was somehow even heavier than that. His stomach churns again. 

“I don’t know,” you repeat, sounding nothing short of defeated. 

JJ just tugs you back against his chest. You trace a finger over his chest in swirling patterns as if personifying the state of his mind. Maybe you could live with JJ. I mean, you practically already did. The two of you were rarely away from the Chateau these days, and once you were eighteen - just as you said - your dad had no hold on you. Maybe if the Pogues could get the cross then JJ could finally afford that big pastel blue house for you, with the wrap around porch, and guard dogs to sick ‘em anytime your dad came within a fifty mile radius of you. Maybe–

JJ’s eyes widen. It hits him. His best idea to date. 

“Marry me.”

JJ isn’t sure he actually said it for a while because you don’t speak. You don’t even move. 

“What did you just say?” 

“Marry me.”

You immediately start to laugh. You shake your head against his chest. “Jesus Christ. Did you slip and hit your bed whilst I was in the bathtub?”

“I’m serious. Marry me,” JJ says. Maybe it’s his tone that cuts off your hysterics. You quickly break out of his hold again and look at him, studying his expression. Your eyes widen. 

“Holy shit, you really are serious,” you mumble. 

“Marry me,” JJ repeats as if those are the only words he knows how to say. 

You laugh, bewildered, “JJ, we’re seventeen.”

“So.”

“So? So…We’re seventeen!” you cackle. “We can’t get married JJ.”

“Who says?” JJ shrugs, beginning to smile. You haven’t said no. 

“Um let’s see,” you mumble, lifting your fingers to count. “The court…The law…Our parents.”

“We don’t have parents.”

“Maybe not good or present ones, but we still have legal guardians, JJ.”

“Those are all technicals–”

“-Technicalities-”

“-Whatever. Point is, those are irrelevant,” JJ says, wafting it away. His hands grab yourself in a tight clutch. Your mouth remains perfectly parted, slightly upturned at the corners. It only pushes his smile. “I know you’re it for me. I ain’t good at all the sappy-dappy-love-crap, but I’ve been in love with you since I was a kid–”

“--JJ–”

“--And I don’t want anybody else! Ever. We’re a team, ain’t we? Hunt for gold together, spend our life together.” When you study him in silence for a while, JJ tags on, “I mean, I’m gonna do it eventually so I might as well do it now.”

“That is insane reasoning to propose, JJ,” you laugh, shaking your head at him. Even if your face is half beaten beyond recognition, JJ knows you’re the most beautiful girl on the planet. The moment he knew he shared the same earth as you, JJ wanted you to be in his life. And you still haven’t said no. 

“I love you,” JJ says, plain and simple. Shaking his head slightly, he grins. “P4L, right? I mean, we really got nothing to lose here.”

You stare at him and scoff, quiet and underbreath, almost fascinated. Your eyes slip shut and JJ begins to grin because he knows. A deep, heavy sigh, and you laugh again. 

“God help me, I must have gone crazy,” you mutter. Your eyes open into his. Then you smile the prettiest smile the world has ever seen. “Yes. I’ll marry you, JJ Maybank.”

JJ wastes no time in connecting his lips with yours. You giggle against them, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, holding him closer and closer. When you break apart, barely a hair’s width between your damp lips, you smile as you speak. 

“My good looking boy.” 

Five Years Later

Whiskey isn’t quite caramel. No, it’s more tawny. More gingerbread coloured, especially in this hue, illuminated by the crappy bar lighting hanging above JJ’s head. His knuckles knock against the side of the cool glass, mesmerised by the sound of his metal rings clinking, distracted in his drunken haze by the bobbing of the three ice cubes in the liquor. 

“JJ.”

His head sluggishly lifts at the sound of his name. He comes face to face with the long-time bartender, Corbin. 

“It’s last orders, man. You wanting a refill?” Corbin asks. 

JJ sighs and shakes his head. “Nah, I better not. What time is it?”

“It’s nearly one,” Corbin replies. 

JJ nods then repeats, “nah, I better not.”

“You wanting to settle up for that now?” he wonders, glancing down at JJ’s half full drink. 

JJ swallows and rubs tiredly at his eyes. “I, uh…Just put it on my tab for now, a’right?”

Corbin sighs. “Look, JJ. I’ve known you a long time so I’ve been letting it slide but this tab’s starting to stack up. You gotta pay it sometime.”

JJ shoots him a glare; his emotions twisted by the alcohol. “And I’m gonna. I just…Things are a lil’ tight right now so I can’t settle it just yet.”

Corbin decides not to push the topic. He does as he’s asked and adds JJ’s three whiskey on ice beverages to his resume-like tab. When he leaves to square things away at some other end of the bar, JJ glances around the room. 

Corbin’s bar, Grub Bucket, hadn’t changed in anybody’s lifetime. JJ could recall coming out here as a kid on the hunt for his dad and sneaking past the intimidating bikers out front, weaving through the drunken fools of Kildare to find his dad almost paralytic near the pool tables. The smell was the same too: musty and beer drenched and tired. JJ wonders if he finds the smell comforting - nostalgic maybe. At the sight of several patrons leaving through the door into the pitch-black night, JJ remembers himself and the time, and he downs the last of his drink. The bitter sting is soothing on his tongue and eases the ache, and it goes down easy like a crisp, cool apple juice back in grade school. 

He staggers out the bar and stumbles the familiar route home. It’s as engraved in his mind as the journey to the shops or the docks. Home appears through thick overgrowth. It’s a piece of shit trailer, obvious even in this lighting, that’s discoloured and dirty on the exterior. There are weeds that protrude from below the body of the home and gas canisters lined beside overflowing trash cans and countless fishing, surf and mechanic crap. The recycling bin is always full of empty wine bottles and cans of beer. 

The stairs creak in concern as he makes his way up them. The third is broken in the middle and even intoxicated, he has the sense to avoid it. A squeaky door that needs the entirety of his body weight to open, his shoulder slamming into the upper left, and the instant smell of damp desperately trying to be combated with some cheap candle from Goodwill. 

There’s few rooms in the trailer. A kitchen with about one empty counter to cook, that shares the same area as a living space. A couch that JJ found abandoned on a roadside sits before a crackly television, divided by a thrifted coffee table. The World Atlas was proving useful keeping the latter piece of furniture upheld on the far right leg. The area is littered with belongings, tight on space and storage. Trash takes up a lot of space too, as much as he hates to admit it. A strategically placed poster-print conceals a concerning dent in the wall that may signify rats at one time had made this trailer their home. That could explain the steal that JJ got it for. 

The bathroom is where JJ’s legs take him next. Here, with the door closed, he can turn on the light. It takes three flicks of the switch and the buzz that it generates might remind a war veteran of a looming grenade. The shower is permanently discoloured and runs warm perhaps once a year, so JJ skips that stage. Instead he looks into the dirty mirror. His exhausted face greets him through blurry vision and speckles of toothpaste. A well-used toothbrush is rushed around his mouth and he spits into a dusty sink that drains frustratingly slowly. A quick piss and JJ is all washed up. 

He’s careful not to turn on the light when he makes his way into the bedroom. By now, it must nearly be two in the morning. The boots come off first, followed by his shorts, socks and shirt. Clad in only boxers, JJ can make out the bed through the dark and slides under the covers. His eyes slip shut and his body tries to relax.

“It’s late.”

His eyes clench shut. Shit.

“I, uh, didn’t know you’d still be awake.”

“I was waiting up for you to come home,” comes your mumbled response. JJ looks over to you: your back facing him as he lies on his. 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Hard not to when your husband’s out until two in the morning without texting or calling.”

 JJ’s brows knit together. “My phone died,” he mutters. 

“Convenient.”

Sighing, JJ runs a hand along his forehead and rubs tiredly at his eyes. “Look, I’m really fuckin’ tired, a’right? It’s been a long day and I just wanna–”

“You’re tired?” you hiss, turning over and sitting up. Fuck. “You’re fucking tired, JJ? Where the hell where you!?”

“Out!”

"Oh! Out! God, I don't know why I didn't think to check there!" you tunefully say.

JJ grits his teeth. The exhaustion and booze make a sticky concoction, flammable to the smallest fuse. “I don’t have to fucking give you a play by play of what I’m doing. I’m my own fucking person.”

“Okay, sure, JJ. You can finish work at five in the Goddamn afternoon and not reappear until two in the Goddamn morning without a text or call. I mean, what a fucking evil wife I am for worrying about you being - oh, I don’t know - dead in a ditch somewhere or sat in a fucking cell. I mean, I’m just bitter to the bone.”

At your spiel, JJ sits up in bed, propping himself up with his elbows. “Yeah, it’s such a fucking Goddamn surprise that I’m in no rush to come home when this is the fucking greeting I get!”

“Don’t come home at two in the morning and you won’t get this type of greeting!” you screech back. 

The two of you meet eyes through the dark. Your faces are contorted in anger: brows tugged close together, lips downturned in ugly frowns, tired eyes narrowed at one another. 

“Jesus Christ - what? You need me to give you a text every two minutes or some shit? Tell you where I am every two seconds?” 

“Right, yeah, that’s what I said, JJ,” you argue, gesturing violently with your words. “I said, ‘send me a text every time you take a breath of air’. No, no, you’re right: I said, ‘put a tracker in your fucking penis and then maybe I know where it’s going’.”

He studies your face a moment and scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you’re try’na incinerate there but–”

“It’s insinuate - you fucking idiot - and I think you know damn well what I’m referring to,” you spit. Your voice sounds almost as bitter as the liquor JJ was drinking peacefully only an hour ago. Maybe he should have just stayed at the bar. 

“Go on, then. Say it with your fucking chest, then,” JJ urges, sitting up in bed too. 

You glower at him. “Pearl.”

“Oh my fuckin’...” JJ can’t help but laugh right in your face. It’s ludicrous! It only seems to worsen your rage, not that JJ could care at this moment. “You really think I’m out hooking up with someone? Is that seriously what you’re accusing me of?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” is your all-to-quick reply. “You spend all night in a bar and come home smelling like booze. Wouldn’t be surprised if you were hooking up with her, or some other whore. I mean, who else would want you?” 

JJ can’t think clearly through the blinding rage. His vision goes blurry and this time, it isn’t from the alcohol. There’s the distant fear that he might crack a tooth from how tightly he’s clenching his jaw. He feels his fist close up around the sheets. 

“You better think really fucking hard about what you just said to me,” he lowly says. 

Your brows raise. “Is that a threat?”

JJ doesn’t reply. Decides it might be best not to. It’s hard to side with that thought process though because a smirk slowly but surely begins to sneak onto your face. There’s this viciousness in your eyes that JJ used to be unable to recognise, before El Dorado. Before life got somehow all the more real. 

“Starting to sound like your dad now, huh, Maybank?”

Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything. Don’t say–

JJ leans in close to your face. Can feel your heavy breath on his cheeks. See the emotions swirling like a thunderstorm in your eyes. The thin veil of tears in your waterline. He hardly recognises his own voice. 

“I wish I was fucking some whore. Anything’s better than being in this bed with you.”

Your whole demeanour shifts. It’s palpable. The room is hot and suffocating. The words hang in the air and JJ hates himself for not being sure if he even wants to take them back, even if he doesn’t mean it. He just wanted you to hurt. And what an awful thing to want. 

JJ hates this. He hates how the two of you know just the right buttons to press and just the right things to say to make the other furious. To break one another down. When two people fall in love, you learn everything about the other. It’s not just the intimate details - how somebody looks naked, the way they react to every touch, every kiss, their favourite song, the way they talk when they’re drunk - but also the sensitive stuff. The traumas and the skeletons and the insecurities. 

“Get out,” you spit. 

“Get out?” JJ laughs incredulously. 

“Get out! Get the fuck out of this bed now,” you seeth. JJ doesn’t move. As if possessed, you grab at your pillow and toss it at him. “Get out!” Toss your book too. 

JJ dodges them, bats them away. “You’re fucking psycho! Do you fucking see yourself!” he shouts. 

“Get out! Get out, get out, get out!” you scream. 

But JJ doesn’t. He should. In fact, he should go for a walk and let the two of you calm down, and then discuss it in the morning with a civilised conversation, just as you would do when you were both younger. But JJ was never the one to make the right decision. Instead, he feels himself smile. Then, he settles leisurely on his back, snuggling into the sheets like a child returning home after a long day out. His body aches from a hard day’s labour at the docks, stomach empty save for the booze. Even with his eyes closed, JJ can see your glare. It’s ice cold and sends shivers along his spine. 

“Fuck you, JJ,” you mutter. 

Another rustle of the sheets, the mattress dips, heavy footsteps, a slamming door, and you’re out of the room. The door shivers in the rickety frame and the noise seems to echo around the room. JJ slowly opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling. He runs a hand along his jawline as he sighs, feeling the ever growing stubble that he can’t find the motivation to shave. He used to, wanting to keep up appearances for the job market, but it seemed futile now. Pointless. The feeling of satisfaction that came from winning the fight was fleeting, passing as quick as a poppers-buzz. Now, the ugly emotions seep in as JJ wallows in the lonely silence. The emotions JJ usually wards off with whiskey and beer and weed and cocaine. The guilt and the shame and the self-loathing. The sympathy and the heartache. The awful things he said to you bounce around in his head like a ping pong ball. The awful things you said to him bury deep in his heart.  When he closes his eyes again, trying to mellow out his breathing and drift off, he can hear your sniffles through the door.

You never used to hide your tears from him. 

Sighing, JJ clamps his hands over his face and fights the urge to scream. Why does he do this? Why does it keep happening? Why can’t you both just stop? 

After thirty minutes, sleep is nowhere to be seen. The sniffling has stopped in the other room but JJ doubts you’re asleep either. Soon enough, he can’t stand the internal struggle anymore. He gets to his feet and makes his way into the living room before he can lose his nerve. 

You’re lying on your side on the sofa, bundled up with a moth-nibbled blanket. JJ can’t see your face from here but he knows you’re awake. Dating you for five years meant he learnt to pick up on things like that. Walking over, he comes to the back of the sofa and reaches over to gently place his hand on your shoulder. 

“You awake?” he rasps. 

A pause, and then, “yes.”

“Come to bed.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve got that stupid interview tomorrow and you’re going to hate yourself for sleeping on this fucking thing in the morning.”

And I can’t fall asleep unless you’re next to me. 

“You remembered I have an interview?” you mumble. 

“Course,” JJ mumbles back, as if embarrassed that he remembers something his wife told him. “So come to bed.”

You don’t say anything else. JJ has a million things he could say. They’re things that he should say and that he wants to but it’s like his mouth is soldered shut. He can’t let them pass as if they might incriminate him. Oh no! She’ll know I care about her! Instead, he swallows and removes his hand, sighing as he turns to return to the bedroom. 

“Well, I’m going to bed,” he says. Again, there’s no response. 

Only after JJ has closed the bedroom door does he hear movement from the sofa. By the time you reappear, he’s already in bed, curled up on his side, facing the wall. You make your way to the right of the bed. There’s the thud of the blanket joining the floor before you sneak under the sheets and shuffle about until you’re settled. 

The two of you don’t cuddle that night just like you don’t most nights. Neither of you apologise. Neither of you say a word. But just as JJ’s about to drift off, he feels the faintest press of your lips to the back of his bare shoulder. 

When JJ wakes up in the morning, you’ve already left. His head hurts the moment he opens his eyes. Groaning, he tosses the sheets off and sits up on the edge of his bed. JJ’s aching back was a common companion to his life since El Dorado. He’d fallen funny on the adventure and seemingly fucked it up for life. Lifting heavy cargo at the docks probably didn’t help much but what choice did he have? You both needed the money desperately. 

The hunt for the gold went sour. Not only did Ward Cameron steal it and use it, but Rafe stole the cross and melted the timeless relic down into chunks. At first they thought El Dorado - the timeless mystery - was a possibility. JJ believed it too. In trying to get himself and John B there, he’d got himself in pretty hot water back in Kildare. That and the eviction notice plastered to his dad’s house meant that coming back home, empty handed, meant tough living. At first, the two of you persevered. You took the loss as best you could and started out on your life together. A courthouse wedding marked the beginning of your new life, gold-less but not loveless. The Pogues threw a party at the Chateau afterwards. JJ sent out an invitation to his dad at his last known address but he never showed. You never invited yours and thankfully he stayed away. Not long after was he arrested. That was a good day. You’d sold your father’s house and used that money to buy the trailer you and JJ now resided in. It was supposed to be a temporary spot but you fell on rough times. That was almost four years ago. 

The day at work dragged on like any other. After missing one shift at the local grocers, JJ was fired and had to take the next available job to let the two of you meet rent. Now he spends his hours (nearly seven days a week) fixing up old fishing rigs. It was gruelling work: lifting and slamming and hammering and loading. Even in the September air, the summer less stifling than before, JJ works up a sweat. He doesn’t have enough food to spare for things like pack dinners so he goes off an apple during his breaks. Sometimes Pope would offer JJ some food if they crossed paths but JJ didn’t want to be a charity case. He was aware how frail the two of you looked though: having about one semi-decent meal a day. Just as the day begins to wrap to a close - the amber sun low in the sky - does Billy, his employer, come over to JJ as he’s scrubbing his hands. 

“Goddamn oil, swear to God,” he mutters under breath, scratching tirelessly at the skin. 

“Hey, JJ, we gotta talk,” Billy sighs. 

JJ looks up and wipes his hands dry on his shirt. “What’s up?”

“Look, uh…” The moment Billy clears his throat, JJ knows what’s coming. “I hate to do this, man, but I gotta let you go.”

“Dude, seriously?” JJ sighs. 

“Look, it ain’t your fault, Jay. I just…The business is going under and I can’t keep all you guys on anymore. I hate to do this to you, I really do, man. I've got your last paycheck here but you, uh, don’t gotta come in on Monday,” Billy not-so-delicately tells him, digging in his pocket and retrieving a white envelope. As he hands it over, he adds, “sorry.”

“Yeah, well,” JJ sighs, taking the money, “sorry don’t pay the bills, does it?”

Before Billy can reply, JJ pockets the paycheck and sets off from the docks towards his truck. He had to trade in his bike a few years back when the two of you married: a truck seemed more practical, especially for the plans you had. The anxiety seeps in as he starts his engine and only rises the closer he gets to home like a flood caused by a running tap in a home. Rubbing at his heart, trying to alleviate the nerves, JJ takes a breath and turns up the drive. He never used to feel this way when coming home to you. In fact, it used to be the highlight of his day. Now he just prays that he can get through the door without the two of you falling into an argument. 

You’re standing at the stove, steam billowing up from the pan that you’re stirring, and at the sound of JJ shoving his way through the entrance, you turn and offer a small smile. It seems like an olive branch for last night. 

“Hey,” you say. 

“Yo,” JJ hums, closing the door. He heads for the pile of envelopes on the cluttered breakfast bar and flicks through them. Every FINAL NOTICE makes him cringe. One is already open and he slips the letter out, but you speak before he has a chance to read a word. 

“We got a week until they shut the gas off,” you tell him. 

“Well, I got the solution to that.”

JJ tries his best to smile as he holds the envelope up. Gasping, you abandon the stove and grin, taking it from him and scanning over the amount. He’s ashamed by his surprise when you wrap your arms around his neck, hugging him. He doesn’t have a chance to respond; you’re back at the stove, stirring dinner, within seconds. 

“Yeah, well, that’s the good news,” JJ says. 

Frowning, concerned, you look over your shoulder to him. “There’s bad news?”

JJ can’t meet your gaze as he tells you, “I got let go.”

“What? But I thought–”

“Yeah, me too,” JJ sighs, shaking his head. He leans against the fridge and feels it shudder at his weight. The bottles of cheap wine clink together tellingly and JJ tries not to cringe. “Anyway, how’d your interview go?”

You shake your head, looking back to the pan. “They said they’d let me know in three or so days but I don’t know…They were hard to read.”

He watches you in the artificial light, your now naturally coloured hair looking almost unrecognisable in the glow. You’d stopped dying it a couple years ago because you thought it might make finding work easier. It didn’t. Two ex-convicts, one of which had arguably the worst reputation in Kildare, who disappeared for several months at a time as teenagers. No high school degree, no college degree, no qualifications or former training, and no reputable name to fall back on. JJ contemplates coming over to you and wrapping his arms around your middle, pulling you against him. He wants to dance with you in the kitchen to non-existent music and then cuddle up on the couch, sharing a joint and putting the world to right. But he doesn’t. Instead, JJ stays by the fridge. 

“I’m sure you’ll get it.”

“Maybe. You going back to the job centre tomorrow?” 

“Maybe,” JJ echos. He should. It’s hard though. It feels as though every time one of you picks yourself up and dusts yourself off, you get kicked to the dirt again. Jobs felt as unstable and unpromising as a rebound relationship. If either of you can hold down a job in the shaky economy that was the Cut on Kildare, then something in the house needs replacing, and you’re somehow still as broke as you were to start.

Neither of you bring up the argument from last night even though you should. Instead, you eat your dinner in mostly silence as the radio drones on in the background about the weather and the news. JJ’s apology lingers on his tongue but with every mouthful of his grits, it gets brushed away. It stays that way as the evening drags on. One glass of cheap red wine turns into two and three. Somewhere in the tipsy haze, the two of you find one another, naked under the sheets. His bare chest brushes against yours as he kisses desperately at your neck, thrusting into you. As his hands caress along your familiar figure, it feels as though you’re miles away. Or maybe it’s him. Maybe he isn’t the one that’s present, as if standing across the room, watching it all unfold. Your heavy breaths in his ear don’t excite him as they did before. The feeling of your walls squeezing around him doesn’t send him spiralling the same way it used to. It feels as if he’s just going through the motions. Chasing the brief wave of euphoria and distracting himself from the maelstrom of anxiety that is his mind lately. No job, no family, no future.  

“Harder, JJ,” you sigh against his shoulder, your breath warm on his damp skin.

He hardly registers your words and only responds when one of your hands coaxes his hips deeper. Something about the new angle hits JJ just right. His eyes slip shut, a groan falling past his lips as he shudders against your body. He comes rather quickly: the white hot pleasure fast as it passes through him. He lingers inside of you a moment. You lay stone still underneath him.  

“Did you just come?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I just came,” JJ sighs, pulling out of you. Sighing, chest heaving, he flops onto his back beside you. He can feel your stare the same way he did last night. As if trying to escape it, his eyes slip shut. 

“Are you fucking serious, JJ?”

“You know your body better anyway. Go to town,” JJ mumbles. He’s aware of how douchey he sounds but he feels a thousand miles away. He’d only disappoint you anyway. It feels like all he does is disappoint you. 

“Fuck you,” you mutter, climbing out of bed and heading presumably to the bathroom to piss. The door slams the same as it did last night. More arguments and JJ will have to replace the hinges. Just another thing in the house that’ll be added to the list of repairs, with the thing at the top being your relationship. As JJ works through the list in his mind, he drifts off to sleep. He isn’t sure if you ever came back to bed. You’re gone when he wakes up in the morning.  

“I don’t understand man,” John B says. “Why don’t you two just get a divorce?”

JJ’s head snaps to face his best friend. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying–”

“--John B–”

“--You guys are miserable,” he finishes, not letting JJ cut him off. Groaning, JJ shakes his head and paces away. “It’s not like divorce is frowned upon in your family! Your parents did it, hers did it - hell, mine did it too!”

“I don’t wanna divorce her,” JJ says, turning around. He takes his cap from his head and runs his fingers through his hair. It’s damp with sweat from the humid heat of the day. He’d been at his lifelong best friend’s house since eight in the morning, helping to clear up the yard and fix the jetty. Whilst unemployed, JJ may as well keep himself busy. As always, the conversation had veered into relationship territory: John B and Sarah, and JJ and you. The fight was two weeks in the past. You hadn’t let JJ have sex with you since. JJ wasn’t sure if he even wanted to. It just made him feel more confused and disconnected. He didn’t like being the reason you were upset.  

“There’s no shame in it,” John B assures. “You guys were a good fit when we were teenagers but now you’ve grown up and life’s gotten hard. That’s okay.”

“She’s it for me, JB,” JJ states. He wanders over and lovingly pats him on the back, making his way to the cooler for another beer. “I ain’t giving up on us.”

“Cool. So, you’ll just stay stuck in a loveless marriage for the rest of your life then. Awesome,” comes John B’s sardonic response. 

“It’s not loveless. It’s just…going through a rough patch.”

“A two year long rough patch?”

“It’s not as simple as ‘divorce her’,” JJ sighs. The crisp crack of the beer sounds like heaven’s gates opening. “She’s the girl of my literal childhood dreams. And things have been hard for her too. We don’t mean to fight, we just…do.”

“Denial is a six-letter word my friend. You know what else is?”

“Don’t say it–”

“Trauma.”

“JB–”

“I get it! Your dad was shitty and you’re trying to break the cycle! But maybe you can’t! Maybe there isn’t a cycle! Maybe that’s just life!”

“Look, I don’t therapise you so how about you don’t therapise me,” JJ suggests. He tosses a beer to the brown haired man. His face isn’t all that different from when they were young. The crows feet around his eyes are deeper set, as are the laughter and frown lines along his forehead. The stubble on his beard challenges JJ’s. “I’m not gonna give up on us. We just need to reconnect. I feel like we’re always at odds.”

Sighing, John B relents. He clinks his can against JJ’s in an informal cheers. “Well, I hope you’re right and you guys can figure it out. I just want you happy, man.”

Happy. JJ hardly knew the meaning of the word these days. 

He lingers at John B’s house until sunset, when Sarah returns from the hospital. She’d managed to get a spot on a nursing course and was blazing through it. She’d tried to get both you and JJ employed there too but the criminal check killed any chance. She offers for JJ to stay for dinner but he declines, saying that he should head home. The walk back is filled with unnecessary diversions. He goes to the pier where he saw you jump as a kid. He goes by the grocery store that the two of you used to shoplift beers from. He wanders along the coastline where you used to skinny dip in the dead of night. Somehow, JJ ends up outside what used to be his home. Nobody had bought it after the bank repossessed it. Sitting in dilapidation, nature reclaims the isolated structure. It’s barely recognisable to JJ. Seeing it in such a way makes JJ question if his childhood was even real. The traumatic memories feel as though they don’t fit well on this canvas: it’s too peaceful and serene. He leans down and grabs a large rock from the floor and hurls it towards one of the windows. It shatters through the glass and thuds as it lands on the floorboards inside. A small smile pushes onto JJ’s ageing face. That’s better. He continues to walk home. 

It’s pitch black outside by the time JJ makes it back. He wonders if you might have gone to bed as he walks up the porch steps, dodging the broken one, reminding himself to fix it. The house is cast in a warm glow from the living room floor lamp when JJ walks in. The kitchen has been cleaned up and for once seems almost homely. His eyes are immediately drawn to your frame, sat crossed legged on the sofa. A large shoebox sits on the coffee table, the lid off, and a stack of old VHS tapes sit in a pile to its right. There’s a bottle of open red wine and a half filled glass too. You’re looking down at something. 

“Hey,” he says, closing the door behind him. 

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing?”

You finally look up. You’d put your nose ring back in and it shines under the gentle glare of the lamp. A smile blesses your features. “I was going through the closet to see if I could sell some old clothes and found the picture box. Remember how we were gonna hang some up when we first moved here? I think we still should.”

JJ grabs a glass for himself and joins you on the sofa. You smell like soap and shea butter. He pours himself a glass of wine.

“Look,” you say, holding the picture out for him to see. He places down in his glass on the table and takes the photo from you. JJ chuckles quietly under breath. It’s of John B and JJ when they were younger; they sit on their surfboards, legs submerged in the water, hair damp, smiles brimming and big. “Cute, huh?”

“Very cute,” JJ agrees. He places it amongst the pile of scattered pictures strewn across the table and picks another out. It’s of Kiara, pulling a stupid face as she lounges outside the Chateau. Sarah throwing up peace signs. A candid of Pope and John B playing cards one afternoon. You, dangling upside down from the slats of the jetty, lilac hair barely scraping the surface of the water. 

“I like this one.”

JJ leans into you to see the picture in your hands. He smiles at the sight. One of the Pogues must have taken it. You both look about eighteen. You’re sat on one of the deckchairs that resided outside of the Chateau, talking vivaciously, hands gesturing wildly and smiling wide. JJ’s just staring at you, a lovesick smile on his young face, chin resting on his fist. For a while, the two of you sit in the drip-drip-drip of the kitchen sink, staring at the picture as if in a trance. 

“You used to adore me,” you whisper. 

JJ’s brows knit together. He looks down at you. “I still do.”

Your laugh is sad. Your eyes remained trained on the moment frozen in time. “Not like you used to. Not like before.”

“Before what?” JJ mumbles, heart suddenly heavy. 

You look up and meet his gaze. Whatever emotion is on your face makes JJ want to cry. “You know what.”

He shakes his head, his lips quivering. “That’s not true.”

“Everything changed after that.”

“It’s not true,” he says again. His hand slips up, cupping your cheek, and his body sings when you lean into his hold. “That weren’t your fault. It never was and never will be.”

“But would you still have married me,” you begin to ask, voice turning thick as the tears start to build, “if you knew? If I knew before.”

“Yes,” JJ swiftly answers. 

“JJ–”

“--You’re it for me,” he says. His forehead gently falls forward, resting against yours, needing to be closer. “Girl of my dreams.”

“Even if…” You take in a shaky breath, trying desperately not to cry. “Even if I can’t give you a family.”

“You are my family. I got everything I need right here.” 

Something between a sob and laugh shakes your body. You sniff and nod fervently against him. JJ sweeps his calloused finger across your cheek. He feels the warmth that radiates from your skin. Inhales the soothing smell that is you. Counts the smattering of blemishes and freckles and scars that decorate your skin like cracks in an antique painting. They don’t take from your beauty - they just speak to the value. 

“I’m sorry,” he hears himself say. 

It’s your turn to frown now. Opening your eyes, they shimmer with unshed tears. “What’d you mean?”

“I’m so sorry I let you marry me,” he says in brutal honesty. “This ain’t the life you deserve.”

“JJ–”

“You deserve so much more than this. More than all this scrimping and saving. You deserve your house. Your pastel blue house, with those white shutters and the porch - that damn wrap around porch - and your cats and dogs.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. Your own hands come up, cradling his face just as he has your own, and you smile dotingly up at him. For the first time in months, JJ feels as though he recognises you. JJ feels as though he recognises himself. 

“I don’t need all that, JJ,” you tell him. “That’s just stuff. Things. You said it best: I have everything I’ve ever needed right here.”

“You don’t gotta say that,” JJ gently argues. “This trailer isn’t a house, baby.”

“No, it ain’t,” you agree. “It’s a home. It’s our home.”

“Baby,” JJ sighs. His eyes slip shut, unable to look at you, feeling nothing less than a failure. 

“You remember our wedding day?” you ask him. JJ can’t help but snort. 

“Course I do.”

“Remember our vows?”

His lips can’t help but upturn as he follows your train of thought. He was always good at following your mind. 

“For richer–”

“--for poor,” JJ finishes. 

The caress of your finger along his jawline has JJ close to tears. 

“We’re gonna be okay,” you tell him softly. “We're gonna get through all this. It’s just God’s test, that's all, and we’re gonna pass it, and it’ll be okay again. I promise.”

JJ manages to open his eyes and face you. You’re smiling up at him, gazing as if he was the entire solar system laid before you, and the anxiety slips away as suddenly as winter changes to spring. 

“My good looking boy,” you whisper. 

JJ’s never been good with his words. But sometimes words aren’t needed. 

His lips find yours like a bird migrating home. You immediately hold him close to you, tilting his face with yours to deepen the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours. The taste of red wine is strangely erotic and it spurs JJ on. He sighs against you, pushing deeper as if to consume you. Your fingers slip into his hair; nails teasing at his scalp, combing through the sea salt treated strands. JJ’s hands sink away from your face, tracing along your arms, down to your waist. You sink into the cushions of the sofa on your back as JJ climbs atop. His lips map across your cheeks, along your jaw, find home on your neck and collarbones. 

“I missed you so much,” he confesses in a breath against your sensitive skin. 

The removal of clothes is like a ritual: each piece commemorated with kisses and love bites and praises. Your hands explore one another’s naked bodies as if it were your first time. Like a blind man regaining sight, JJ is in awe of your effortless beauty. The way your back arches at the trace of his finger along your sternum, down to your weeping cunt. You clench helplessly around his digits as he fingers you, slow and sensual, savouring every moan and whine. 

“Missed you so fucking much, baby,” JJ sighs against your thigh. Presses kisses against the stretch mark decorated skin, like watering tree roots. “So fucking pretty.”

“JayJ,” you croon, eyes clenched shut, a balled up fist rubbing helplessly at your forehead. 

His tongue laps at your clit, suckles at the wet, driven by the feel of your fingers knotting in his hair. You climax with a gasp, soaking his fingers and lips, overstimulated until you’re gently pushing him away and pulling him up to you. He’s painfully hard as he kisses you. When your hand softly takes hold of him, he sighs against your mouth. 

“I missed you,” you tell him between kisses. Your hand rubs at him in long, meaningful strokes, thumb occasionally teasing over the tip. JJ groans against your chest, eyes pressed shut, trying to revel in the feeling of having you so close, having you jacking him off, whilst trying desperately not to come. But you know him better than anybody else. You know when to guide him to your entrance, coating him in your slick. JJ kisses at your nipple as he sinks into you. He doesn’t feel miles away this time as he fucks you into the sofa. Doesn’t feel like he’s stranded across the room as he makes love to you for the first time in months, maybe even years. 

Your begs and pleas and praises are like words from the lord being spoken into JJ’s ears in your breathy whimpers. Harder, deeper, feels so fuckin’ good, faster. JJ’s no better, slurring anything that slips into his mind as he sinks in and out of you. So fuckin’ wet, prettiest fuckin’ pussy in the world, tell me how bad you need it. His hand holds an almost mean grip on your hip whilst his other finds your left. JJ intertwines your fingers as the two of you chase your highs, the digits slick with sweat, slipping in the hold but never letting go.

"I'm s'close," you whine, hooking your legs over his hips, driving him deeper.

"Fuck, feels so fuckin' good," JJ grunts, ploughing into you. "So fuckin' good for me."

"Please, JJ," you gasp. You're so close. JJ fucks you hard and fast. "Please, please, please..."

You come first, gasping and panting against JJ’s ear, and he follows, moaning desperately against your clammy skin. His eyes slip shut as he rests atop of you. 

JJ blinks awake, somewhat disorientated. For the first time in forever, his aching back isn’t the first thing he registers. Instead, it’s the steady rise and fall of the warm body underneath him. He slowly lifts his head to find you, sleeping soundly, still naked. He’s soft inside of you and gently slips out with a small shudder. You stir only slightly but soon drift back off to sleep. JJ gets up carefully so as to not disturb your slumber. The bathroom doesn’t feel as grimy when he goes inside to pee, and his face looks younger, lighter, refreshed, when he checks the mirror as he washes his hands. After tugging on a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt, he returns to the living room. You’ve curled up on your side, snoring quietly, and JJ smiles. How could he forget how beautiful you are? He lays a blanket over your body and plants a kiss to your hair. Then, he begins to tidy away some of the pictures. As you requested, he leaves out some that he thinks you might like to be framed, one of which is from your wedding day: the two of you laughing as you smush cake against one another’s mouths. His eyes fall on the tapes and he picks them up, flicking through them. He takes pause at one. Luke and Marie’s Wedding Tape. He stares at it like the box of Jumangi, both terrified and enticed.

JJ powers up the TV, ensuring it’s on silent, and turns on the old tape player. By some miracle, it still works. He slips the tape in and swallows the lump in his throat, and sits on the sofa beside where your head rests. You’re still dead to the world, snuggled up cosy in your blanket cocoon, and JJ’s weirdly grateful for your company as the tape kicks to life. It’s grainy at first, the picture wobbly, but soon enough the image comes to life. His dad who JJ hasn’t seen in years stands young and stupid at the altar. His mother who JJ wouldn’t know if she passed him in the street stands young and forgiving opposite. They’re speaking soundless words, smiling. JJ isn’t aware that he’s started crying until a teardrop lands on his hand. He wipes his cheek absently, eyes fixated on the screen. He watches as they dance: giggling, graceful, giddy. Just as you were the day JJ laid his eyes on you. 

Maybe John B was right. Maybe JJ did want to break the pattern. It wasn't either of your faults that you both reacted to adversity the way you did. Years of built-up anger and rage and pain with nowhere to go but within was like a boiling over crockpot of disaster. Two borderline-abandoned, abused teenagers married at eighteen? Of course you didn't have the blueprint for how to be a functional couple. Neither of you knew the definition of compromise, or backing down, or making peace. All you knew was pain and betrayal and self-defence. But that could change. It would take time and patience, but it could. JJ wanted it to. He was sick of working against you. You were a team before and you would be a team again. JJ never wanted to go to war against you, not when you were the best soldier on his team. JJ had always feared love because he feared what it would make him. Would he be like his father or his mother: resent or retreat?

As JJ's eyes sweep down to your sleeping self, he decides what he'll be. He'll be neither. He'll be himself. He'll be resilient.

One of JJ's hands raises and his fingers lovingly stroke at your hair. You don’t wake, just shift a little, and a barely there smile slinks onto your face. 

“Don’t give up on me, baby,” JJ mumbles, petting the strands of your ever changing hair. His good looking girl. “These times are hard and they’re makin’ us go crazy, but don’t give up on me. Cause I meant every word.”

For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish…

"Til' death do us part."

[stvolanis]

Rafe Cameron would definitely call your breasts “tits”

JJ Maybank would call them some stupid shit like "melons”, or “jugs”, but more commonly, “boobs”.

John B is a simple man. He’d probably refer to them as “his girls”.

Pope Heyward would just call them breasts, but when he’s influenced by JJ, he’d call them milkers.

[qlossytbh]

𝐣𝐣 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ૢ་༘࿐

♡ favs | ✎ request | 𝄞 song |

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭

: ̗̀➛ the other girl ✎

: ̗̀➛ you belong with me ✎𝄞

: ̗̀➛ by your side ✎

: ̗̀➛ birthday blues

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟

: ̗̀➛ starry night 𝄞♡

: ̗̀➛ cold morning ♡

: ̗̀➛ baking

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

: ̗̀➛

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧

: ̗̀➛ twin sister au! headcanons ✎

[a-aexotic]

i loved grumpy rafe and sunshine reader!! would love to see more of them <3

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings. mentions of partying, alcohol, hung-over, and also so much fluff that u might just have a heartattack.

summary. hung-over rafe's cure is your cuddles, unforunately for you.

ren's notes ! dude i love soft rafe i would write a whole series on him, also rafe w/ a buzzcut makes me absolutely feral.

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

part 1 !!

Last night was a haze for Rafe. You and Rafe had gotten invited to Kelce’s birthday party, and per usual, it was crazy. All Rafe could remember was a cocktail of some sorts with Dr. Pepper, vodka, half of a Starbucks Strawberry Acai and dried blueberries. He remembers throwing Topper in the pool for ‘accidentally’ touching your shoulder and accidentally tripping you causing you to fall in the pool on top of Topper. Rafe followed soon after that.

It was a weird blur after that. He doesn’t remember anything else that happened. 

He was sleeping comfortably in your bed, snoring away as you got up early to make some breakfast. You weren’t hungover; you barely had anything to drink. Rafe, on the other hand, had 5 drinks of Kelce’s special cocktail. You had to drive Rafe back to your house because you knew Ward would kill him (and you) because of how absolutely shit faced his son was. So you concluded that the best idea was for him to sleep over. Which was a bad idea on your part. 

You had gotten the worst sleep ever. Rafe slept directly on top for three straight hours, your arms going numb. Every time you moved, he’d squeeze harder. When he eventually moved, he took all the sheets with him. 

You went back up to your dark bedroom after making breakfast, opening the door and opening the blinds. You heard Rafe groan, moving the sheets over his face. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” 

Rafe grumbled in response, making you smile in amusement. “Come on, get up babe. I made your favorite.”

“Crepes?” Rafe finally removed the sheets, peeking his head to watch you. 

“Uh, no. I made pancakes, though. That’s pretty close.”

Rafe yawned and sat up. “No, crepes are better.”

You glared at your boyfriend, “I’m not your maid, Rafe. Take it or starve.”

Rafe had a small teasing smile on his face at your reaction. “Okay, calm down. I’ll eat them.”

You rolled your eyes and he got up from the bed, coming to you. “You know I only tease you cus I love you, right?”

You smiled at him. “Since when is Rafe Cameron a romantic?”

“Since I met you, babe.” He scrunched his nose at his words, cringing. 

You laughed, then grabbed his shoulders and gave him a kiss on cheek. “Come on, my pancakes are going to get cold.”

You and Rafe sat at the dining table, eating the breakfast you had made. You noticed Rafe wasn’t talking that much but you just assumed it was because he was beyond hungover. After breakfast, Rafe excused himself back to your bedroom to sleep some more. 

After finishing up the dishes you went up to go sleep with Rafe. As you walked in, you looked over at Rafe and realized he wasn’t asleep.

“Hey. You okay?”

He looked very grumpy and you know that means one thing; cuddles. Rafe would never ever admit this (not even to himself, at times) but the best cure to his grumpy moods is your cuddles. 

“My head hurts. Remind me never to drink again.”

You laughed at his statement, knowing next weekend it was all going to happen again no matter how many times he preached it. 

“Alright Rafey, do you want some aspirin?”

He shook his head, “I already took some.”

“What would make you feel better then, babe?”

He looked over at you and that was his silent way of saying cuddles. Usually, you would force him to spell it out for you but you knew if you pulled that right now, he would rip your head off. You nodded and walked over to the bed, getting in and moving close to Rafe.

You opened your arms and he moved so he could be right next to you, moving his head to your chest as he laid. Your hand was on his back, drawing circles absentmindedly; you always did that out of pure habit but it was one of Rafe’s favorite things. It never failed to comfort him. 

He sighed contently in your embrace, finally feeling the headache fade away as comfort settled in. 

You kissed his head, “does that make your boo-boo feel better?”

He rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, making your chest heave as you laughed to yourself. Then, Rafe decided he wasn’t close enough to you so he moved his leg on top of yours, as he moved himself completely so he could be almost on top of you. It was his favorite cuddling position. It wasn’t your complete favorite because you were one move away from choking and passing out in your sleep, but you’d do anything for Rafe. Even if it meant dying in your sleep due to his abnormal cuddling styles.

Rafe fell asleep like a baby in your warm embrace and you eventually did, too. Rafe loved you but he loved your cuddling a tiny bit more.

[jjssweetlover]

boyfriend!john b is a biter!!! doesn’t matter if it’s during a make out or if you guys are just sitting in each others company. he will bite!!

you two were in the chateau on the couch. everyone seemed to be away today, but out of danger. so perfect opportunity to make out, right?

your hands connected at the back of his head while his hands cupped your cheeks. he was laying on top of you, slowly trailing his kisses away from your mouth and onto your neck. you closed your eyes and leaned your head back, fingers running through his hair.

you were lost in the utter bliss of the feeling. you didn’t know making out could actually feel good until you did it with john b. your thoughts were quickly drawn from your mind when you felt a slightly painful pinch followed by a wet kiss. you tilted your head back up and pushed his head up to meet your gaze.

“did you— did you just bite me?” your words came out through giggles. he didn’t answer for a moment, he kissed your jaw and hummed.

“maybe”

his tone was smug and it only made you wanna laugh more. you couldn’t tell if what he just did was cute or if you were just in the heat of the moment.

no, it was definitely cute. attractive, even. sloppy kisses began to pepper your skin again, the occasional pinch of his teeth and the soothe of his tongue after.

you were so obsessed with him it was insane. it kinda made you wanna bite him back.

[raribella]

Love is Embarrassing | JJ Maybank

summary: although JJ had promised your brother he wouldn’t ever hurt you, you saw him kissing Kie while you were on a break.

pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!reader

genre: emotionally heavy anst, fluff in the end

contains: reader being a real bitch, mentions of Luke and parental abuse, inspired by some songs in the album “GUTS” by Olivia Rodrigo, kinda shitty ending but let me know.

word count: 2,7k

author’s note: alright I know I’ve been MIA and a bitch and I haven’t posted anything in months (worse if you see how much stuff is on my “upcoming works” section), but I’ve just had a lot of ideas, little time and little confidence to write. one of my best friends just showed me obx and I’m in love with this blonde and I got (I think) a spoiler about him and Kie and I just had to do something with my feelings.

This is a work of fiction. I do not own the characters of Outer Banks nor any characteristic of the show. I am writing this story solely for my own entertainment and the marvel or comfort of any readers.

“If I fuck up with her that might as well be the last thing I do in my life, John B! I mean it!”

the words that JJ heatedly uttered to your twin brother the day he found out about the two of you were repeating over and over in your head right now. You remembered it all too well; John B was seething, absolutely pissed, seeing red. You and JJ Maybank knew each other for as long as he and your brother were best friends, when you turned 14, he declared to all the Pogues that you were off limits, and about two months ago, you and JJ started seeing each other. One month into it and JB discovered you, which was easy considering JJ already spent most of his time with both of you at the Chateau. JJ promised his best friend that he wouldn’t fuck up with you because two things mattered the most for him in this life; their friendship, and yourself.

But as of lately, he was having some problems with Luke and he asked for some time “out” so he could figure his shit out without involving or hurting you and you disagreed but you’d do pretty much anything in this world for this man so you decided to say yes.

To his bullshit.

Bullshit, you figured out about half an hour ago, when you heard a confusing conversation between him and Kiara – the perfect one – and when you went outside to track the noise, you saw them kissing.

You were fifteen minutes late to leave for the weekly kegger and you forced yourself to lock yourself in the bathroom and call in sick – because that you were, and you wouldn’t handle being out partying and pretending like seeing the kooks, and seeing them two wouldn’t make you feel the same type of nausea at this moment.

Sarah was the third person to try and make you get out of the bathroom. The first being your brother and the second, Pope. Although you were thankful neither JJ nor Kie had tried to talk to you, when you heard your best friend’s voice, you were actually starting to feel sick, you were having a migraine from holding tears up, and you were sweating.

“Y/n, come on! You were so excited to come not even an hour ago, we’re already late and I don’t see why wouldn’t you want to come”

Your vision was blurry as you palmed the door and laid your forehead on it. Sarah realized that you really weren’t coming when she heard your voice crack.

“Sarah please, just, go on out without me this one time, I need not to be there right now and I also need to be alone please don’t ask me questions I can’t handle to answer you this moment I promise-“

As you rambled, she frowned from the other side of the door. Making sure to get everyone to leave for the Kegger, to try and remember asking you about this later on, and to reassure John B that you were actually okay.

You’ve been successfully avoiding JJ for about two weeks now. It started with enough discretion, allegedly going to the bathroom every time he entered a room, or offering everyone any snacks you would spend too much time preparing in the kitchen. For him, it started getting obvious when you looked the other way when he looked at you at the beach, or when you refused to surf and, as of recently, started slamming the doors on him. JJ was getting pissed at this rate. He started by simply frowning and brushing it off, but you couldn’t just keep slamming doors and not even looking at him, and if everyone else noticed, they just wouldn’t budge! The worst part is that he didn’t know what had happened nor if he could fix it. You understood him when he told you he needed time to figure out some stuff with Luke, but the truth was he was still very much freaked out about that. He still loved you, and he couldn’t afford to see you like this anymore, especially when such behavior was being directed at him. JJ missed you. Even if he couldn’t really figure his shit out, he missed you screaming at the top of your lungs as you entered the sea, he missed your smile, your laidback grin that he was the only receiver of, he missed your colorful bikinis, and how they embraced your features as you would jump onto every wooden swing near the shore, your curly hair flying everywhere filled with salt spray. He just missed you, the real you. And he had to talk to you to see if there was even a chance that he could get you back.

You, on the other hand, kept avoiding the questioning looks the pogues would send you every time you were harsh or avoidant at JJ, your brother even attempted to talk to you, silently, just with glances, and figure out if his best friend had hurt you. But even if he did, it only hurt because you loved him too much, and you decided it was best to protect him from John B’s wrath. You felt embarrassed whenever Kiara questioned you with her eyes as well; you felt embarrassed to be near her. You kept crucifying yourself and both her and JJ because of everything, often zoning out of the conversation and just bitterly reminiscing about the times you consoled your boyfriend as he cried late at night in your room, being gentle with his bruises. – thinking how could you be so stupid? giving up everything, betting on him against your brother’s better judgment. You kept paying attention to Kie and how, since that day, she looked like the sweetest thing of the Cut, the fucking hell-side of the island. Her perfume lingered in the air even at the beach and made you feel sick; you saw her everywhere now, even when you looked at him. You saw the scene of them kissing. Feeling every word she would utter toward you in conversation like bullets on your skin. As it was torture how she was the greatest thing to ever exist – how everyone loved her, how she was so much better than you; poisoning everything that you do and still being the sweetest friend, making you despise how rotten your mind was; how jealous your eyes were.

You were bottled up to the brim.

It started out simple enough. JJ had noticed everyone was doing their own thing at the Chateau; John B was absent for the time being, and you were alone on the couch, fidgeting, focused on whatever. It seemed like the perfect window to try and have an actual conversation about what’s been happening. He just didn’t expect it all to escalate so quickly. He didn’t expect you to have seen a part of his conversation with Kiara about his dad – but not everything, not the ending. – He hadn’t expected a conversation with you of all people to become a bomb with a short fuse that would explode into feelings tainted crimson. watching you bleed, making him bleed all over for you.

"Pogues don't mack on pogues, y/n! this shit freaked me out, your brother finding out freaked me out, yeah, even if he’s my best friend and I was afraid that-”

“Oh, so you go ‘round and fucking get with Kiara?! this is fucking bullshit, JJ! bullshit-

“Y/n, listen to me!”

You both were screaming, Kie’s eyes went wide as she tried calling your name as well but you had already started crying and couldn’t pay attention to anyone but him. At this point, as John B arrived at the Chateau and followed the noise, the people around you calming you down couldn’t be sure if they were afraid of his arrival or actually relieved. You kept interrupting each other. JJ pulled his hair and you pointed at yourself and to your side – as if Kiara was still there – strength marking red fingertips above your chest.

“‘Cause she’s not even a real pogue, right?! that’s why you got so confident about it, huh?”

it was almost as if the room went silent. Kiara decided to step outside to give you space; to take a moment to breathe in and take notice that you didn’t mean that. She was sure you didn’t. The rest of the group started to move aside as well although they could obviously still hear the commotion. Only you, John B, and JJ were in the living room. Your brother grabbed your shoulders from behind trying to ground you in any way he could, JJ growing nervous at the rate of the conversation and his friend’s presence.

You looked into his eyes and it was as if the blue in them was slowly fading, his eyebrows shot up and his mouth twisted in a clearly upset frown. As tears stained your cheeks, pride still overpowering your shame and feelings pent up, you started with more meaningless empty jabs, which, said angrily enough, would only make JJ bleed more as he fell silent himself.

“I really loved you, you know? You gotta laugh at the stupidity.. right? Come on you were going around doing that shit and I swear JJ I used to think was really smart… I was just a mesmerizing, paralyzing, fucked-up little thrill for you, tho… best friend’s little twin… ridiculous.”

At that, John B diverted his attention toward his friend with stern questioning eyes. JJ gulped.

“Look, man I just really need to talk to her and explain myself, ‘aight? I didn’t do what- Things are really not what they seem right now and I need her to-“

“Fuck, JJ, that’s bullshit! How can you not even flinch when you fucking lie like that! Things are just like what they seem you never even fucking loved me! You can’t love anyone, ‘cause that would mean you had a heart, right? But you’re a fucking Maybank! And I really tried to help you out all this time but now I know that I can’t!”

You were calming down, but exploded again, as the words left your mouth though, you started regretting them, the most deeply someone could ever regret anything maybe, worsening by the second as you saw the man you still loved muttering a small “no”, cracking at your words and shedding a tear. As Kiara heard what you said from the outside, she didn’t even think before bursting into the house again, turning every head in her direction.

“Y/n you’re spiraling and you’re saying things you’ll fucking regret! I kissed him, alright?! This is my fault. He stopped me, he loves you and he wouldn’t do that, okay?”

Though the words she was muttering were calming you down, she was calling you out, she was absolutely mad at what you said about JJ’s father because she had context and it was really fucked up. You felt small.

“Kiss?!” John B asked, his eyebrows shooting up. It wasn’t his intention to aggravate the situation but it was his little sister involved. JJ tried to start talking and explain the situation – which Kiara had left him to, but he could really only think about one thing.

“I- uh… did you mean it? What you said.”

JJ rarely expressed any sign of vulnerability, so as his voice broke, you felt like your heart did too, rushing to explain yourself now, and trying to get closer to him.

“I didn’t mean it, J, I really didn’t! God, I don’t even know how you can still even look at me right now I’m so sorry I was just so fucking broken at the idea of you che- of losing you, and I- I thought you had found someone else and I damn near started world war III right now and it’s just because I love you so much and I know you don’t deserve another fucked up demonstration of love, you deserve to feel so good, Jay, and I’m really sorry, I love you so so much, and I will understand if you never-“

You were interrupted by the shock of his own body against yours. The both of you were panting, crying, completely tired sighs leaving each mouth as if this was all going on for days and you were so hurt, yet needing each other so much. John B and Kiara were ‘okay’ enough with the newfound situation to leave you both to your own devices again, and you just clung to one another, sitting on the floor for what felt like hours until he decided to speak again.

“Y/n… I asked for us to take some time because it was becoming too real, y’know? What we felt for each other.. it was, touchable- it is. And when everyone else found out, and then John B… You know I don’t talk about this usually, not with anyone but you, but I didn’t want my dad to find out about us, to find out about you. I don’t want him knowing what you are for me I don’t want him knowing that laying a single finger on you can be worse than any punch he could throw my way. And I wanted to figure this out without you knowing about it because you’d say it’s fine, and I-“

As your mind processes his words, you start to think how in the world you got a man whose the first concern about a monster of a father would be you. How could you deserve it, especially after what you had insinuated about him. “It is! It’s fine, honey, we can-“

“No, y/n it’s not fine because I don’t ever want you to even worry your pretty little head about a situation like that, y’know? And It’s not fine because the pogues are my family and the love I feel for you, if anything would happen to you because of him I’ll be damned, damned, and in jail for murder, you can trust me I will.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. All you could do was keep the hold you had on each other, slightly caressing his head.

“Since I didn’t want you to know about it, I went to Kie, that night of the Kegger, and she tried to help me and she said she loved me and I did too but then she kissed me and I assume it’s what you saw but I did step back, I promise! I told her off… Y/n I told your brother that if I intentionally hurt you, if I fucked up with you like this then that might as well be the last thing I did in my life and I mean it. I love you so much, little Routledge, and I’m all in now. We can figure shit out as we go but as long as we have each other, okay?”

As JJ spoke, he held your hands, reassuring you at the end. Hours had passed ever since you started talking, so when the pogues felt everything was calmer they decided to go back in the house slowly – figure out how you were, what were the plans for the night.

“Do you really forgive me for what I said? I will understand, J, I’m so, so sorry, I love you so much” You touched your forehead with his, and JJ sighed, shaking his head slightly. “I love you. I love you, y/n… can’t be without you.”

And as you both kissed each other as if you were making up for ages lost, Sarah smiled at the corner of the room, John B interrupting the show. “Come on with the PDA, love birds… What are we doing tonight, then?” He half-heartedly scolded as you got up, hand glued to the blonde's. You let out a big sigh again, before brushing them off with an honest, but half-assed excuse, already making the way to your room.

“I mean, you could go to Heyward’s… I think we’ll just lie down a bit.. ‘twas kinda draining…” you saw a bunch of side smiles as the group left through the door, Sarah grinned, letting out a puff of air through her nose, and when Pope went to close the door, he screamed back in the direction of your room, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” which earned a scream back from an already lying down JJ, “might as well not do anything!” and for the first time in a while, you laughed, making your way to lie on top of him, his embrace being all you needed.

“You know… we could go out to surf tomorrow,” he offered, still missing the sight of a happy you, your bikini, and the ocean.

“First thing in the morning.” You answered.

[sukunasbride]

sofia x reader when??

[d0llfaac3]

Perv!JJ maybank

Warning: MDNI 18+ perv!bestfriend!JJ, surfer!f!reader, allot of beach themes, mentions of masturbation and filthy thoughts, probably some weird shit too lmao

Perv!JJ is the type of guy to hear your name being mentioned and get a boner like the time John B said something as a passing remark and joke while you where there, causing JJ to have to cover his groin with his jacket.

Perv!JJ is the type of guy to knock at your door with some $5 scuba gear and wanting you to go with him just so he can see you in a swimsuit.

Perv!JJ is the type of guy to hear you having girly chats with Kiara and Sarah and start jerking off to your voice talking about god knows what..

Perv!JJ is the type of guy to buy you an ice cream imagining that your lips where around his dick instead of the stupid ice cream.

Perv!JJ is the type of guy who when he finally got you alone at a party would be all over you, kissing, leaving little hickeys, he just wanted you..

Perv!JJ is the type of guy who would want to touch you everywhere any time he saw you.

Perv!JJ is the type of guy to get you to sit on his lap while he’s pushing his boner into your ass cheek

Sorry guys that’s all I could think of rn :( it’s like 3am

[cosmopretty]

MY GIRL — Kiara Carerra

synopsis: coming home after hanging out with the Pouges and JJ’s relentless flirting Kiara can’t help but make you remember your her girl, and no one else’s

warnings: smut, nsfw

Walking into her house, both of you just in bikinis after being on the beach all day with everyone. Hanging out with the Pouges was amazing, the only problem Kiara had was JJ flirting with her girl. You met her friends a while ago when you first started dating, and ever since JJ would always make his little comments about you and it would piss Kiara off, that’s why he did it.

Looking back you watch at your girlfriend drops y’all’s stuff on the floor before grabbing your hand and dragging you upstairs into her room.

She lets go of your wrist and pushes you down on her bed before climbing on top of you. Her hips straddle your waist, keeping you under her “You my girlfriend not his JJ needs to keep his mouth shut” she groans, talking a deep breath.

“I’m yours Kie you know that, not JJ’s” You tell her your hands coming on hold her waist. She rolls her eyes and moves down her head going into your neck leaving wet opened mouth kisses down your jaw.

Jealousy ran through her, as she starts to bite and suck on your neck, she had to prove that you were hers, and no one else’s.

You suppressed a moan when she started sucking on the sweet spot below your ear. Her hands pulling at the strings of your bikini before sliding it off of you. She sits up licking her lips, admiring you for a moment before leaning down and sucking on your breasts.

Kiara bites down on one of your nipples holding it between her teeth as she looks up at your face morphing into pain. She smirks and lets go moving down your body, leaving kisses down your stomach. Stopping right above your bikini she kisses your hip and sucks down leaving a bright purple hickey.

Sitting up she looks down at your admiring your beauty and her work on you.

“Please Kie, don’t tease anymore please” You beg her your hips trying to move into hers. She smiles and rips your bikini bottoms off, throwing them somewhere in her room.

Leaning down she moves her body so she’s lying on her stomach. She licks a stripe through your folds watching as your moan “Your so wet baby, all for me huh? Not JJ all mine” she whispers possessively as you nod your head at her words.

Shaking her head she leans up and looks at your “Words baby come on” she encourages you, her hand playing your clit.

“M all yours Kie, only yours— please” You beg her wanting nothing more than to cum. She smirks at your words and plunges two of her long fingers into you.

Her fingers start pumping in and out of you hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you see stars. Kiara moves up and kisses you as she speeds up her fingers inside you.

Your lips try and follow the pace of hers but she takes control of the kiss and bites down on the bottom of your lip. She pulls your lip between her teeth before letting go, she stares at your face as your jaw drops “Your so beautiful baby, and your all mine” she says smiling her free hand coming to caress your cheek.

“I’m all yours pretty girl” You tell Kiara your hand coming to hold her jaw pulling her into another kiss.

Her thumb comes to rub your clit in circles as your stomach tightens. She can feel you’re about to cum, by the way your gummy walls are squeezing around her fingers.

She pushes them deeper and harder inside of your hitting your sweet spot over and over causing your head to fall back a symphony of moans leaving your lips.

Pulling away from the kiss she rubs your cheek “Come on baby come for me” she tells you rubbing your clit faster.

The band in your stomach breaks as you cum all over her fingers. You whimper when she continues to rub your sore, red puffy clit. You shake your head “Too much Kie, too much” you tell her breathing heavily.

Kiara nods and pulls her fingers out of you slowly before bringing them to her mouth, she sucks your juices off of them. She moans at the taste of you before pulling them out of her mouth “Good girl, you taste so good” she praises you.

Moves closer to you she kisses your lips making you taste yourself. Your moan is muffled by her lips on yours as you taste yourself.

Pulling away from the kiss she smiles at you and pushes some hair behind your ear “Your all mine baby” she mumbles laying down next to you.

[maybanksprincess]

jj maybank headcannons!

warnings: none, pure fluff!

requested by this ask! thank you anon <3

pairings: boyfriend!jj x shy!girlfriend!reader <3

ᥫ᭡ shy!girl!reader who always has to tutor jj because he cant listen in class for shit. lucky for him, his girlfriend has all the notes, cause shes observant <3

ᥫ᭡ shy!girl!reader who tugs on jjs arm when shes ready to leave a public setting, or just wants to get out of a conversation, luckily her boyfriend is good at making excuses.

ᥫ᭡ shy!girl!reader who always asks jj to order her food for her in a drive thru, or when waiters take their order, cause shes too shy to tell them what she wants, afraid she will stutter or say something wrong.

ᥫ᭡ shy!girl!reader who hates going on on dates in public, not because shes embarrased of jj, but because shes scared she will get mean looks.

ᥫ᭡ shy!girl!reader who texts jj when she meets up with him at a place, making him come get her instead of finding him her self

𓆉 boyfriend!jj who always has to make the first move in the relationship, whether it be the first kiss, first time having sex, first time sleepover, etc. but ofc he doesnt mind, because he loves how shy his girl is, he knows that shes only his.

𓆉 boyfriend!jj who doesnt pay attention in school on purpose, so that when he gets home he can call his pretty girlfriend over to teach it to him instead of a lame teacher <3

𓆉 boyfriend!jj who constantly does goofy things to try and get you to bring out your goofy side that he hardly sees

𓆉 boyfriend!jj who randomly pecks your lips or your forehead, during conversations with others when your sitting on his lap, to let you know he's still there

𓆉 boyfriend!jj who always lets you rant about books or movies to him, even if he doesn't understand because he doesn't ever wanna not hear you talk.

[nobitchs-world]

Rafe every time he sees Pope

[veryberryjelly]

for a drink can i get 🍷? photograph by ed sheeran with jj maybank pls?

jj maybank x reader

lyrics ; ' so you can keep me, inside the pocket of your ripped jeans '

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

how the fuck had they let this happen?

stranded on an island in the middle of nowhere with no true way of getting back to the outer banks.

as the group dried off on the beach, jj leant back on the damp sand granules, his hand moving down to his jean pocket like a reflex, pulling out the fading plastic square.

his eyes landed on you. a polaroid you had taken of the two of you a few weeks ago after a day spent on the beach, just the two of you.

while jj had tried to wrestle the camera out of your bag to take a photo of you, you wouldn't let him unless he was in it too.

because you knew if you tried to get a photo of just him he wouldn't have it.

right now this photo meant a lot more to him than he ever thought it would.

he didnt know when he would get back to you. stranded on this island where all he should be thinking about is finding food and water and all he could think of was you.

the fact that he wasn't able to climb through your bedroom window tonight and feel the soft beating of your heart against his chest while you slept.

he thumbed at the already fraying corner of the photo before flipping the photo over, his eyes dragging over the text you had scrawled on the back in black sharpie.

somehow in everything that had happened, your words remained clear as day.

' so you can keep me inside the pocket of your ripped jeans x '

he didnt care about getting back to the outer banks. he didnt care about getting back to his home.

he cared about getting back to you.

[i-love-ptv]

I’m Crying While I’m Cummin’

JJ Maybank x reader

An: Hey Hotties! This is my first EVER fic (kinda just a blurb since it’s a littleeeee short.) I hope you enjoy!

Feedback would def be appreciated bbs!

(You’re hot if yk what song the title’s from 🤭)

Fluff + NSFW <3

JJ was always on top. Always the dominant one.

Yes, he’s had a few tourons ride him, but completely control him? It almost sounded foreign to him. He never even considered letting go; letting himself be taken care of.

That was before you came along.

Now, sometimes he finds himself thinking about what it’d feel like to let his thoughts exit his body while you take what you want from him. Milk his cock for all he’s worth until he’s withering underneath you.

Until he can’t think about anything except for you.

You, you, you.

Your scent is intoxicating, and he feels himself getting wasted on the smell of saltwater, sex, and your perfume. He can smell faint remnants of the shampoo you use and it makes him melt like the ice cream you licked off your fingers yesterday in the hot sun.

Your touch is warm: like the rays of sun beaming down on the obx.

The sun.

You remind him of the sun. You were his sun.

His everything.

He can’t help but think about how lucky he is to have you while you’re quickening your pace as you ride him. You light up his life, and right now, he really wishes you’d just choke him. He wants you to take every thought and every question out of his head until he can barely keep his head straight.

He begs, whines, and cries out to you.

Blubbering on about what exactly?

God, he doesn’t even have a clue anymore.

His speech is slurred, making you giggle softly in his ear. He feels your laughter rattle throughout your body, making you clench even more around his throbbing cock.

He lets out another hearty moan.

The sounds of the bed squeaking, and the slaps of your bodies becoming one floods his senses.

You flood his senses.

His eyes water as his throat tightens, he recognizes the diminuendo of the beautiful song you two have created together.

He thrashes around as you slick cunt takes every drop of cum out of his leaky, aching, dick.

The pair of you are scrambling around, trying to grab one another desperately; like your lives depended on it.

Life.

That’s what JJ thinks about as you coo sweet nothings into his sensitive ears.

He wants to feel this way forever: pussy drunk, fuzzy, and loved. Loved by you. At this moment he decided that he didn’t need anyone but you.

And he knows you’ll always be the one to make him feel this beautiful.

[bluebayousblog]

RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 18)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: Christmas Morning

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART SEVENTEEN

Drew didn’t want to let go of Isobel, and he meant that in so many ways. When he was fourteen he laid eyes on her for the first time, and hadn’t expected to like her as much as he did—his entire family liked her. She was so shy with them all in the beginning, but he still managed to be enamored by the fraction of her she presented to his family within those first few weeks of them meeting. He knew she was special and it was easy for him to want to treat her as such because in his head doing that meant she would stick around, it meant she would open up around them.

When college came around they ended up at the same university, so he never had to consider parting ways with her in that regard, it was when she began dating Grayson that he experienced what it felt like for her to be slipping away from him. He didn’t register the feelings as jealousy, no it was more like a discomfort he felt about her being in a relationship. A discomfort that he chalked up as him being protective because that is what made sense to him at the time. He couldn’t stop her from dating, so he learned to live with it—learned how to share Isobel with another man who didn’t deserve her—until they broke up three years into their relationship. And though she returned to him heartbroken and not quite the same happy girl she was before he’ll always remember the relief he felt.

The last two years of college he spent probably annoying Isobel beyond lengths but that’s how he got his fix. He enjoyed walking her to class when he could, no matter how brief, it was always enough for him to see her face and hear her sweet voice. When weekends came he invited her to his parties because it was an excuse to have her around without having to worry about her wellbeing somewhere else. And at those parties he couldn’t help but give most if not all of his attention to her when he wasn’t entertaining some random girl. How could he not when she was in the same room as him, it was close to impossible for him to ignore Isobel’s presence.

Drew had been with so many women in his life, and never once had he felt that pull he did with Isobel after simply realizing he could be attracted to her. After years of knowing each other he’d kissed her once and had been overcome with the need to have her to all to himself. He’d always felt this way but having her in such an intimate way made it so much clearer. Being with Isobel created a fear within Drew because although he felt for her in the capacity that he did, it didn’t mean she felt the same way for him.

And just because Drew had fallen in love with Isobel didn’t mean she would ever fall in love with him.

Isobel let him hold her in his arms after he told her he loved her, she rolled over and hid her face in his chest instead of running away from his confession. He felt whole with her in his embrace, the way she relaxed with him made him feel like she would never leave him, so it scared him when he had to slip away to the bathroom to clean up and discard the condom. The mere thought of the bed being empty when he returned making him linger in the bathroom a little longer just to brace himself.

He eventually couldn’t help but go back to her, holding his breath as he approached his bed, and when he saw her body still resting there on his side of it, he exhaled.

“You took my spot, Izzy Bear.” Drew stated with a smile as he slipped himself under her body, and he melted when her soft hand ran up his stomach so she could wrap an arm around his torso.

She looked so adorable under him, her long hair framing her face, her soft skin bare, and her brown eyes warm with unspoken emotion that made his grip on her hip tighten, “Your spot was warmer than mine.”

He could only smile in response as their eyes remained locked, it felt completely different than before and they both knew it was because what had just transpired between them. Isobel hadn’t expected having sex with Drew to leave her feeling so needy. She hadn’t thought about what it would be like after, and now she was feeling so many confusing emotions all at once. She felt scared of his feelings—of her own—but she didn’t want to leave him. Isobel had already done that, and it only hurt them both. So she clung to him and silently thought of everything that had happened tonight. The unnecessary fighting followed by intense sex followed by his confession.

“You love me?” Isobel whispered with her lips moving against the arm her cheek was lying on, and she couldn’t ignore the twinge of hopefulness that was buried deep in her tone. Only someone who desperately wanted to hear the emotion could distinguish it beyond all of her layers she put forth, but she had a feeling her body knew Drew was exactly that—desperate for a part of her no matter how minuscule. She wanted to look away before he answered her, not in fear of him not saying yes, but the fear of simply looking him in the eyes as he answered her.

“Yes.”

Her face immediately heated at the short response that despite its conciseness had her heart pounding inside her chest, and despite her internal transgressions her eyes couldn’t help but find his blue ones. It was unbelievable how one or three words could mean so much—could make her feel so much. She’d once felt this way before with someone else, she’d also ran away from this feeling, but it still managed to find her and still knocked the breath out of her. She knew her cheeks were red when he swept his thumb across the warm skin of her face, “When did you realize it?”

It was like Isobel was in front of a mesmerizing flame she shouldn’t touch, but couldn’t help but stick her fingers through. Although, the closer she got to him, to the heat, the fire wasn’t so scary anymore—like it wasn’t even really a fire to begin with.

“Isobel, I think I have always loved you.” Drew settled on an answer after thinking it over. He didn’t want to overwhelm her, but it also felt impossible for him to keep what he was thinking to himself. It was like when she gave herself to him he couldn’t hold in his feelings for her any longer.

And If he was being honest he couldn’t remember not loving Isobel. The time from when they were only family friends to when they hooked up for the first time felt like one convoluted memory of Drew falling for her without knowing it.

Isobel had no idea what to think, someone had fallen in love with her and he’d done it so easily—so effortlessly. And it melted all of her resolve considering the fact that he’d told her on a holiday she held so close to her heart. She was going to remember his devotion to her every Christmas thereafter.

“I don’t know what to say, Drew.” She shyly admitted, now looking away from his gaze. He just sounded so sure from the first ‘I love you’ as he dropped down on the mattress beside her after he rolled off of her, and it was his certitude along with his admission that stole the air from her chest.

She didn’t want to hurt him because of her own reservations, but she also hadn’t come to terms with her own feelings for Drew like he had for her. The last thing she wanted to do was compare what she had with him to her past relationship but her trauma made it hard to distinguish the two. Though, Isobel knew better because the way Drew made her feel wasn’t comparable to the man she had before. Even the way he told her he loved her was different, there was no flood of expectancy—he just wanted her to know but still she couldn’t help but wonder if her silence was disappointing him.

Because despite all of her fears, something that remained consistent for Isobel was that she believed his word.

“I don’t need you to know what to say, Isobel, I’m sorry I couldn’t help it.” Drew swallowed, wanting to do everything he could not to scare her anymore than he already had.

Isobel’s heart melted at his words, he was being so vulnerable and honest and it only made her want to tuck herself further into his arms, “You don’t have to apologize, Bear.”

He looked so handsome staring down at her with that same glimmer she always saw in his blue eyes, but now she knew exactly what he was feeling behind them. She couldn’t help herself as she leaned up to press their lips together in a gentle kiss, hoping it conveyed everything she couldn’t say because though she couldn’t articulate her feelings for Drew, it didn’t mean she didn’t feel anything at all. 
They kissed slowly like time was infinite for them, reveling in the feeling of their lips against each other, and each slow peck eased her nerves. She felt how intentional he was with his kisses like her mouth was made for his own, like he’d found something he’d been always looking for, while Isobel just tightly held on.

Never did she think she’d be in Drew’s bed as he sensually kissed her lips after telling her he loved her on the early hours of Christmas morning. It was unimaginable at one point, but in the moment it made perfect sense. The feeling of his wet lips, the warmth from his body against her own, and the idea of Drew falling in love with her—for the most part.

Isobel suddenly pulled away and looked into his eyes, looking for the answers to the questions she was afraid to ask, the questions she thought may make her look weak in his head. She hated letting her insecurities show, but they would only continue to haunt her if she kept letting them choke her until she was rendered silent. It was easy for Isobel not to be a burden to her friends and family, but what she hadn’t realized was just how silent it made her that she became sort of nonexistent.

And for once she didn’t want to feel that way with Drew.

“You won’t get tired of me?” She quietly asked, forcing herself to keep their eyes connected as she waited for him to speak. Isobel could confidently say that was one of her biggest fears, someone getting tired of you loving them because she’d experienced it first hand. And though it came out like a question, it was more of a plea.

Drew’s eyebrows creased at her question. Not only because the possibility could cross her mind, but at how raw and vulnerable her voice sounded as he listened to her. It was crazy how you could spend an abundance of time with someone and not know how bruised they are, then they let you in and you don’t understand how you couldn’t have seen it all before.

“I could never get tired of you” he stated with emphasis like the thought was rudimentary, he said it with a gentle force like it was truly impossible, and he promised it to her with sincerity because he could never reach that point. He wanted from the depths of his being for her to understand that she had nothing to fear because Drew tiring of Isobel simply could not be.

Drew never thought he could ever be frustrated with Isobel until he fell in love with her. He was frustrated with her for things she couldn’t help, frustrated at things that happened to her, and frustrated that he he’d taken so agonizingly long to realize just how important she was to him that she’d found love in someone else and been burned because of it.

“You promise?” She gave him a gentle smile, but he saw right through it and he knew just how important it was to give her what she needed.

Reassurance.

God, he just wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her entire body until she understood him and all the doubt in her mind was no more when she looked at him, touched him, and simply thought of him. But this was Isobel and while he did want so badly for her to trust what they had, there was also a part of him that wanted to see her slowly heal no matter how long it took because he was coming to find out, to truly know Isobel was to love her for the sides of her she allowed people to see while also loving the hidden parts of her that weren’t invisible—they were just barely on the surface.

“I promise, Izzy Bear.” He whispered and when she smiled, a real smile with her teeth on display just for him to see, the frustration he’d just been feeling felt so insignificant to the warmth currently inhabiting in his chest, “Give me a kiss.”

“I don’t think I heard you, Bear, can you say it a little firmer?” Isobel smirked.

She leaned her body on his chest and brought their mouths so close their lips brushed, barely keeping a slither of space between them. Her smirk grew into a full grin when she felt his arm wrap around her lower back and squeeze her upper thigh in his hand.

“I said give me a kiss, Isobel.” Drew looked unamused as he stared into her eyes while his hand wandered upward to rest on her ass.

Isobel didn’t listen as he repeated himself just as she asked, instead she moved her lips to his neck, running her mouth across the contours of it, his skin salty on her tongue. She couldn’t tell if the increase in his breathing was because her defiance was pissing him off or turning him on, but she didn’t mind either, “Hmmm I don’t think I feel like kissing you right now.”

“You always feel like kissing me.” He gritted through clenched teeth as she laid a full kiss on the center of his throat making her giggle. Isobel knew he was referring to just how pathetic her attempt was to keep things platonic between them for the holidays. How she’d cracked within days, no within minutes and hadn’t been able to keep her mouth off of him since. God, did she love having her lips on Drew.

Isobel chose not to respond as she continued to plant kisses down his neck and chest, every peck deliberate in her wake as she made her descent. She wanted to show Drew that she felt for him just as intensely as he did for her even if she couldn’t put it into words. This was the only way she thought to herself, atleast that’s how it worked for her in the past. Then Drew’s hand found her cheek and she froze before he pulled her back up his body so she was back where she began—chest to chest, nose to nose, and just slightly brushing his lips with her own.

“You don’t have to do that, Baby.” He mumbled as he pressed their foreheads together, staring into her brown eyes as if he was really trying to make sure she understood him, to remind her that he knew her.

Isobel’s eyes widened as she stared back in a sort of disorienting realization at the sincerity in his eyes and how she’d thought she’d loved before when really that hadn’t been what it was at all because what she was seeing in front of her in this moment was incomparable to anything she’d witnessed before.

“I want to kiss you.” She voiced her thoughts, it came out naturally like Drew was meant to know everything she was thinking.

“Then kiss me.” He barely finished before her lips were covering his in a gentle kiss.

One of his hands immediately found her jaw, squeezing her face as he pulled her further against his mouth. He could feel her as she immersed herself in the feeling of them being connected like she was wordlessly giving him another piece of herself that only he could interpret. Drew couldn’t help but release a deep groan at the intensity of it all, at how packed full of emotion this all was. His hands slipped down her jaw onto her throat before sliding to the back of her neck so he could bring her closer, desperate for all she was willing to give to him.

They kissed until they were out of breath, until Isobel was panting for him and desperate for his touch. His tongue massaged carefully into hers as he took his time tasting her. Her lips were starting to feel swollen and bruised but every time he released the pressure on her neck she kissed him deeper so his grip would return. She whined against his mouth when he disconnected their lips and looked up at the ceiling obviously drowning from his own arousal. She didn’t know where to go from here as she stared down at him, his eyes tightly shut and trying to control his breathing. Here she was in bed with a man who didn’t need her to prove herself to him, and she was completely and utterly lost in it all, “You’re making me feel things I don’t think I’ve ever felt before.” Isobel whispered as low as she could and rested her chin on the warm skin of his chest .

His eyes remained closed, but when she felt the rumble of a groan travel up his throat she knew he’d heard her and she smiled.

Isobel then couldn’t help but wonder if he’d let her tell him she loved him with his eyes closed, but she knew that’s not how she would want it, she couldn’t imagine it that way. In her head, when she let herself hope, she would say it when she wasn’t afraid to look him in eyes as she gave him her heart.

But for now she’d whisper it in riddles with his waiting stare hidden behind his resting eyelids.

She fell asleep comfortably in his arms and woke up to Drew staring down at her that Christmas morning. They’d obviously switched positions during the night as she was now tucked into his warm body as his back shielded her body and he leaned on his side, putting all his weight on his right arm, “You always wake up at this exact time on Christmas Day.”

Isobel didn’t have to look at the time on her phone to know it was seven in the morning. Her parents were most likely awake and lounging around in the den downstairs while she was cuddled up with Drew in his bedroom instead of waking up in her own. In just thirty minutes they would be listening for her descent down the stairs because that’s how it went every year they spent Christmas together, but things were changing to her dismay.

“How do you know? You usually don’t wake up until breakfast is ready.” She poked his side and giggled when he jumped at the feeling.

Drew couldn’t help but smile at the years of memories from all their holidays spent together, “For some reason I always wake up the moment you walk past my door to the stairs.”

If she already wasn’t a puddle from how sweet he was to her last night, she would’ve melted further into the mattress.

“You sure you weren’t feeling me two years ago, Bear?” Isobel joked though they’d been spending holidays together in this cabin for far longer than two years. Meaning he’d been feeling for her for so much longer.

He wrapped both of his arms around her body so he could pull her into him, he was getting used to his days starting with Isobel’s, especially on one of her most cherished.

“What did I say to you last night, Is?” He breathed and brushed her bare hips with his hand.

‘Isobel, I think I have always loved you.’

The more she heard him say it the more she wanted to hear it, like a song you didn’t quite understand the first listen but as you absorb the melodies, the words, and meaning you can’t help but want to hear it on repeat.

When Drew saw Isobel bite her bottom lip as her dark eyes glazed over in thought he swore he felt his heart rate drop before it began pounding in his chest. He loved this about her, how her body betrayed her and revealed exactly what she was feeling. Drew just loved when her guard was down with him. His grip tightened on her hips as if it would slow down the thumping in his veins.

“I have to get dressed.” Isobel released her lip and pouted knowing her mom would come check on her if she didn’t come downstairs soon, especially since she played sick yesterday to avoid the man she was under at this very moment.

“Okay.” Drew could only watch in a trance as she slipped from under him. He was mesmerized watching her leave the bed and stand before him with nothing covering her body. His tongue swiftly poked out to wet his lips when she swiped her pajamas off the floor and began to slowly get dressed—knowing his greedy eyes were watching, “Come here Isobel.”

She was working on the first button of her top when he interrupted and she wasted no time before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed so she was facing him. When his big hands took over what she’d been doing, she let him as he buttoned up the silk pajama top just as slowly as she’d planned on doing. Although, with his fingers grazing and nudging the curve of her breasts as he made his way up to the last button it had a very different outcome.

“I’ll see you down there, baby.” Drew wiped his mouth with his thumb as he darkly glanced at her breasts through the red satin then back up to her pretty eyes. For some reason Isobel couldn’t help but grin in amusement at how boyish he was being, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was always that way in the morning.

“Maybe you should come downstairs a little earlier than usual?” She suggested and cursed to herself for not wearing any slippers when she decided to come here last night. When she got to the door she turned and gave him a soft look before having to go back to reality, a reality she wasn’t sure she wanted to maintain anymore.

“I’ll be right behind you, Isobel.”