#outer banks jj

[personapeters]

✰ 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐣𝐣 (3)

— random texts with your boyfriend, jj maybank

rating: sfw — cw: suggestive — links: one • two • three

 personapeters 2025 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[blueheron15]

how about JJ and his gf smoking together for the first time and it's all fluffy and cute? 😩🙏🏻

you and the rest of the pogues are just chilling for the night - listening to music, passing beers around, and taking a dip in the cat's ass. until john b and sarah started making out, that is, causing y'all to disperse and give them some privacy.

you're in a tiny pink bikini, sitting on top of the counter, your legs dangling back and forth. you watch your boyfriend rolling himself a joint.

"hey, jay?" you asked, tugging on his ridiculous multi-colored checker bathing suit. in turn, he takes a step to the side to stand closer to you.

"sup, baby?" he juts his chin out in response before grabbing the paper, sticking his tongue out skillfully to wet it.

"teach me?"

he glances over at you. "what, this?" he asks, removing the paper from his tongue and lifting it up in the air, signaling to it. you nod. "you wanna smoke?"

"i kinda wanna try." you shrug. "since it looks like we can't go in the hot tub, anyway."

he smiles, and concedes. "true. alright, i'll finish rolling this for us."

after a minute, the two of you get situated on the couch in the porch, and it's a peaceful atmosphere with the crickets chirping and the waves crashing in the distance.

you straddle his lap and he leans back against the couch, one hand on your hip, his thumb stroking your skin softly. the other holds the lighter up to his mouth, where the joint is situated, flicking it until it catches and he can take a puff.

"so," he says while he exhales. "let's go easy here since it's your first time. just take a puff and see how you feel."

he holds it up to your lips, and you place them tentatively around it. you take a breath, before releasing it and blowing. you don't feel anything, the smell of the smoke being stronger than the feeling itself. "i didn't even feel anything." you somewhat whine.

"cupcake, either you're a pro already or you didn't do it right." he smiles. "c'mon, try again. there ya go, now, breathe in realllyyy deep, till you feel it in your lungs. let the smoke rest in your throat for a little before you-"

you cut him off with a violent cough. you definitely felt it that time.

"oh my god!" you squeak, holding an arm over your mouth and wheezing into it, jj breaking out into a fit of giggles underneath you as he snatches the joint from your lips - just in time before you cough and spit all over it. "how do you do this for fun? don't laugh at me!"

you're tearing up and your cheeks are turning red from coughing so much, that jj rests a hand against your back to pat it lightly.

"sorry, sorry. you're just cute, 's all."

"ugh," you breathe, somewhat groaning as you dip your head back, catching your breath.

he raises his brows at you mischievously, watching you intently as he takes a puff himself.

"don't mock me." you grumble, crossing your arms.

"let's wait a little bit, then you can try again, hmm?"

"alright."

you tuck yourself into him, your head resting in the crook of his neck as you cuddle into him.

"here," he offers you gently after a few minutes.

you take the joint, not breathing as deeply this time, but taking enough of a hit to still feel it. you succeed in the text with minimal talking.

"atta girl." jj praises.

the two of you end up getting pretty high.

you're squashed, laying side by side on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, thinking it's the sky and that you can see stars.

jj is way more composed than you, but his eyes are still puffy and red.

"just one more!" you say playfully.

"'s not a good idea- hey!"

you grabbed the joint from him, attempting to sneakily put it in your mouth by rolling over, and the sudden movement makes you a bit dizzy. instead of rolling over, you roll off the couch.

you're hunched over, letting out a light groan, your hair fanning across the wooden planks. you definitely hit your head.

"oh, shit." jj says, scrambling to a seated position, lifting a hand to place on your back. "you okay? oh - no, are you crying?"

you're body is racking, but with laughter, not tears. you lift your head up, smiling and giggling at jj's relieved expression. he falls back onto the couch dramatically. "jesus, you scared me."

"sorry." you giggle, using the couch to help you stand back up and find your way next to jj again.

"you're cut off." he insists, snatching the joint back from you. "'s my weed anyway."

you close your eyes, letting out a contented sigh.

"thanks for teachin me how to smoke, jay." you slur.

he turns his head to press a kiss to your temple. "sure thing, baby."

[bonnie-the-butcher]

Rip Tide | Chapter XVI

[ MDNI ] [ word count: 9.261 ] [ Masterlist ] 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Canonverse/Canon-Divergent; Dark! Content; NSFW; Strong Language; Cheating; Drug Use; Mentions of overdose; Some shades of Munchausen syndrome from dear old Rafe; Manipulation; Toxic, obsessive behaviour; Stalking; Violence; DUBCON/NONCON; My writing is really pretentious and English is not my first language, so please feel free to call me out in whichever grammar mistakes you might find find.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | You and JJ have always been in each other's orbit. He's your brother’s best friend, the guy you've known your entire life. He was kind, protective, familiar. You never meant for the two of you to start hooking up. And you never meant for it to last so long. But when this boy you thought you'd come to know like the back of your hand turns out to be no better than the men he'd warned you about, you find yourself in the sights of the guy he hates most, regardless of wether you want that or not.

HAD MY FIRST DAY AT UNI YESRTEDAY YALL!I'm so sorry that I'm now just posting once a week instead of every 3 days, but Uni Prep had me in a frenzy, lmao. I'm gonna try my best to keep up with the posting schedule for you guys' sakes because seeing you like this is literally my therapy. Likes, asks, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated! Thank you in advance for reading <3

The wind screams past your ears.

Your fingers are clenched so tightly around the throttle that they ache, the roar of the bike's engine rattling through your bones. Cold air whips against your skin, sharp and punishing, your hair flying wild behind you, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

Your heart is still pounding, slamming, against your ribcage at a speed more punishing than the one you’re driving at.

You shouldn’t be driving this fast.

You know you shouldn’t be driving this fast.

Your stomach lurches at the thought—JJ’s hands on the bike, the reckless speed, the way he took those turns just to scare you. The memory hits you, sharp and brutal—the screech of metal, the asphalt rushing up to meet you, the burn of terror that rose up your throat as the bike scraped against the pavement.

You should have learned your lesson —You should be driving slowly. But you can still feel Rafe’s hands on you. You still hear his voice, soft, certain, suffocating.

"I know you love me.""You’ll learn.""We’re meant to be."

Your stomach turns violently.

The moment plays over and over in your mind, tangled up in itself, looping like a nightmare you can’t wake up from. His breath against your skin, the way he grabbed you, kissed you, forced you still. The way he spoke about that night, about your skirt, about something from three fucking years ago—something you don’t even remember.

That’s what horrifies you the most.

That he does remember.

Because he’s been thinking about it, obsessing over it, building his own fantasy out of this memory.

This memory that you don't even have.

He’s been letting you play at getting to know him for a week. Letting you cling to the slivers of information he gives you, trying to piece him together, while he’s known you, analyzed you, thought about you, been around you for YEARS.

You press harder on the gas.

Shoreline rushes up too quick, too bright, too loud. The street lights blur into the flickering neon signs, into the colors of the setting sun that smear together like paint across the sky. Your eyes dart, searching, frantic, you barely see. The speed is too much, the light is too much, the sounds are too much, everything inside you rages, raves, roars, as if you’re being consumed by a vortex that’s settled inside your brain and is destroying everything around it.

Until—

Barry.

You recognize him immediately, the posture, the carelessness, even without seeing his face. His head is in his hands, a cigarette burning between his fingers, the glow of it flickering with every slow inhale. His elbows rest on his knees, his whole body slumped forward, exhaling in a long, steady breath.

You cut the engine.

The moment he hears it, he’s up.

Barry moves fast, his head snapping up, eyes immediately locking onto yours. He’s already moving toward you before you even get both feet on the ground, already talking, already scolding—

How the fuck did you get here so fast— Whe— where's your helmet—?

But you don’t let him finish.

Your body moves before your mind does—you’re running, running into him, your arms wrapping around his torso as if he were a lifeline. 

Your fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt, face burying into his chest, the warmth of him seeping through your skin, his scent wrapping around you like something steady, something solid.

You feel him freeze for a second. Like he doesn’t understand. Like this is something new. – What— Sweetheart, what happened?

You shake your head, still buried in his embrace, still clinging to him like he's the only thing keeping you on the ground. – I hate this bike. – You mumble, the first excuse that comes to mind. – I hate the moron that invented a bike, I hate you for having a bike and I don't wanna ride a bike ever again.

He laughs, relaxes.

His arms tighten around you.

His hand slides up, pressing against the back of your head, steady, grounding. His other hand curls around your waist, fingers pressing firm, protective. His breath is slow and steady, even as his heart pounds beneath your cheek.

Neither of you say anything for a moment. 

Barry holds you. Solid. Grounded. Real. But inside, you’re still moving.

The speed is still dragging at your sides. The road is still rushing past you, blurring at the edges, folding in on itself like a wave crashing over your head.

And Rafe—

Rafe is still there.

You feel shaken loose, untethered. You’ve stepped off the bike but haven’t stopped moving. You’re still hurtling forward at full speed, no breaks, but there’s no road beneath you anymore.

His voice.

His hands.

His grip.

Barry shifts. You feel it—the slight flex of his fingers against your back, the slow, careful breath he exhales against your hair.

– Sweetheart, – His voice is softer now, quieter. Like he can feel it. Like he can tell you’re still buzzing, barely keeping it together. His hand drags slow, deliberate, up and down your back. He's trying to soothe you, but it’s not working. – It’s just the speed. You went too fast. You’re gonna be okay. Just breathe.

You try.

But the air feels too thick, too heavy. And it catches in the way down your lungs like Rafe’s hands are still tight around your windpipe, like he’s still blocking the way.

You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your face deeper into his chest.

He's warm —You try to focus on that, on the warmth of him. On the way he holds you like a straightjacket.

He's here.

You're here.

Away from Rafe.

Out of his grip.

Out of danger.

Barry sighs, long and slow, his chin dipping slightly, his arms wrapping a little tighter—like he’s letting you hold on as much as you need.

You wish it were enough.

You wish it could just pull the feeling out of you.

But Rafe’s voice still lingers.

You move your head, and when your ears rustle through the fabric of Barry’s shirt, and you swear you can hear Rafe’s laughter in it.

A shudder rolls through you.

Barry feels it.

His grip tightens instantly.

– Hey. – His voice is firmer now, edged with something sharper, something protective. – Are you sure it’s just the bike?

You just nod your head again.

You can’t talk about this.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Barry exhales, long and slow, like he’s trying to steady himself as much as you. His fingers press against your waist, curling slightly, keeping you in place, steady, solid.

You burrow closer. The warmth of him, you try to remind yourself. Focus on that. On the smoke and the menthol and the burn of something headier that wraps around you like a shield, like something solid, something that won’t crumble under your touch.

Barry shifts. Just slightly. – Sweetheart. – His voice is quiet. Not teasing. Not scolding. Soft. Careful. – You're shaking.

Your throat feels tight. 

Your fingers curl into his shirt.

You don’t know how to answer.

Because what are you supposed to say? You can’t tell him the truth. You can't tell him that you can still feel Rafe's hands on you. That his voice is still echoing in your head, that his grip still lingers around you as if it were carved into your skin, that you feel like you’re suffocating in your own body?

You shake your head again, a sharp, desperate movement, and Barry feels it.

His grip tightens.

Barry shifts again, just barely, just enough that you feel it—the flex of his fingers, the way his chest rises against yours, the way he exhales, slow and heavy.

But he doesn’t let go.

And for a moment, you think he relaxes into it, that he holds you as if he’s just trying to ground himself on you as well.

He clears his throat. Stiffens the slightest bit.

– You’re still shaking. – He tries again. Softer this time, but it doesn’t last. – Are you crying? What—Sweetheart, what's going on?

You shake your head, swallowing hard, clutching him even tighter. The fear is still there, still pressing against your ribs, still sitting heavy in your throat.

– The bike, – You mumble against his chest. – I thought I was gonna die. It's— Your voice drifts, cold, gone. The words come out before you can stop them. – It’s like he's right here. Like we're—

Barry stiffens immediately, his expression shifting from worry to rage. His arms tighten around you, breath going sharper, faster, like he’s trying to hold back a reaction.

You feel his jaw twitch where it rests against your head. – He ain’t gonna get to you again, okay? – Your heart stumbles. Your pulse spikes. You swish the words around in your mind, trying to believe it. You let the gravel of his voice comfort you, echo around you, and it's warm, his arms are tight, and the ache in your bones is almost forgotten. – JJ ain’t gonna try any of that shit with you, not when I’m here. I promise.

JJ.

It almost confuses you, because there’s so much shit going on, it takes you a moment to remember what it was exactly that JJ did to piss Barry off. You nearly forgot that he almost killed you— You barely remember the way he acted, the way he threw you on the bike, the way he spat at you like he wanted you to bleed.

All you remember is how small he looked when it was over —How he sat there, next to you, hunched over, voice hoarse, begging. How he crumbled, pathetic and groveling, when he realized that you were not gonna relent.

But none of it matters.

Not anymore.

It's not JJ’s hands you feel anymore. 

It's Rafe's.

The way he grabbed you, like you were nothing, like you were a thing.

The things he said to you.

Barry’s grip tightens, his arms wrapping around you even closer – Hey— His voice drops lower, quieter. His comforting voice. His calm-her-down voice. – It’s okay. I got you. He ain't gonna try that again. You're gonna have to get back on that thing, though, sweetheart. – He dips his head lower, his breath warm against your temple, his voice even softer now, steady, grounding. – I’ll take you back home. We’ll go slow, yeah?

You freeze.

The fear comes crashing back, sharp and suffocating, pressing against your ribs, clawing up your throat. – No! – You say it too fast. Too firm.

Barry pulls back slightly. Not letting go. Not pushing. Just enough to see your face, to search your expression, to figure out what the fuck is going on.

His brows draw together.

His hand tightens.

His eyes narrow.

– Sweetheart—

You don’t let him. Barry has a way of jumping to conclusions, and this conclusion is so obvious that you fear a second of rationalization will get him to the truth. – There’s a grocery store around the corner. I just passed it. We need to go shopping anyway, Bee. Let’s just get it over with, please.

You just need some time.

A distraction.

You’ll buy the things to make a decent meal—something to sink your focus into, something to keep your hands busy and your mind preoccupied until you have to look Rafe in the eye again. By then, there’ll be dishes to wash, leftovers to put away, a mess to clean. 

You’ll have an excuse to keep moving, to keep yourself from having to talk to Rafe face-to-face.

When that’s done you’ll all go to sleep and you'll only actually have to face him in the morning.

Crisis averted.

You can deal with this, but only if you don’t actually have to face it. – C'mon. Let’s go there, I'll figure out something to make for us.

You pull on him, turning, but he locks you in place.

Barry hesitates, lips pressing together like he’s weighing whether to say something. He exhales, almost sheepish, as if he were embarrassed. – I ain’t got money on me right now.

You blink, momentarily thrown off.

– That’s fine, – You say, brushing it off with a wave of your hand. – I’m the one paying.

Barry scoffs immediately, almost flinching like the suggestion physically pained him. – No. No— no you’re not.

– Bee— You start, but he’s already shaking his head, gaze flicking away like the conversation is beneath him.

– You’re not paying for my food.

– I'm making food for both of us. – You try, softer this time. – The last check from the Wreck just cleared. And now that I’m not splitting the bills with someone, I can afford to spend more on groceries.

Barry’s expression shifts, the casual defiance slipping just slightly. His jaw tightens, brows pulling together in a deep furrow.

There’s another scoff, but this one feels off—less dismissive, more unsettled. His grip on you loosens as if he'd let go, but his shoulders don’t relax and his arms are still around you, tense, but grounding. He’s staring at you now, like he’s trying to decipher something he didn’t realize he needed to.

– What the hell do you mean you’re paying bills? – His voice is sharper this time, laced with something like offense. – Why would you pay any bills at my place?

Your stomach drops.

Oh.

Of course. A place to crash, not a home.

The thought comes quick, instinctive, like a splinter working its way under your skin. You nod fast, pulling back to save face before he has the chance to walk it back, before guilt can make him soften the edges of what he just said.

– Yeah, – You clear your throat, looking away. – I just meant—I’m looking around already. You know I’ll figure something out soon.

Barry’s frown deepens. His fingers flex against your arms. – What? No—That ain’t— His grip tightens again, like the idea of you leaving has only just registered. Like he’s trying to hold onto it before you slip away. – You ain’t figuring anything out, – He says, almost angry. – You’re staying! Sweetheart, it’s our place. My house is your house. That's how it's always been, and that's how it's gonna stay.

Your breath catches.

He says it so simply. So easily. Like it’s never even been a question.

Your fingers curl slightly into the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself. The knot in your chest loosens, the weight of that sinking feeling lifting just enough for you to breathe again.

– Then what—? – You exhale sharply, still trying to catch up. – I can’t stay at your house and not pay bills. You’re not even gonna let me pay for groceries?

That offended expression flashes over Barry's face again, and now he steps away, laughing. – What, you think I’m a bitch, like your brother? That I’m gonna let you waste your money on this shit like you ain’t paying for me to do nothing? – He scoffs, cold, reprehensive. – That's not me, sweetheart. I'm not letting you provide shit like I'm your kid.

– Jesus, Barry. It's not like I’m not offering to be your sugar mommy. I just wanna buy groceries. I can’t eat the food at your house.

He raises a brow, a ghost of a grin on his lips. – What? It ain’t gourmet enough for you?

– Exactly. – You feel yourself smile, the weight in your chest easing the slightest bit. – I am a lady, Bee. And cup noodles are just depressing, I can’t let you eat like that. If I’m staying at your house—

– You are. 

– Well, then you’re gonna be eating what I’m eating. And I’m not eating fucking cup noodles. I’m making us actual food. 

Barry scoffs, tilting his head at you. – What, so I gotta eat your fancy Kook shit now? Do I gotta move to figure eight too? Start wearing polos and talking like I got a concussion?

You roll your eyes, the laughter falling from your lips before you can stop it. – Just cause I work for kooks, it doesn’t mean I cook like one.

– Sounds like the same thing to me. – He scoffs. – Do rich people even cook at all? I thought that was the reason you had a job to begin with. That they can’t do anything for themselves.

– Thank God for that. The Camerons are paying me almost three times what I got at the Wreck. I'm not getting that payout at any restaurant in the state.

He chuckles, scratching his head. – Maybe I should break the pipes at their place, they'd probably get me more than what I'm getting paid to hustle.

“Hustle” You don't comment on that.

– You’re already getting paid twice the minimum wage a week just to provide merchandise to their junkie son, aren’t you? Think you can do better than that?

Barry makes a face. – I’m not the one babysitting him, am I?

It hits you like a slap in the face.

You swallow thickly, looking away, and change the subject. – What was the last vegetable you ate, Bee?

Barry makes a face, immediately suspicious. – Why you askin’ me trick questions?

– The only thing I know about your eating habits is that your favorite thing is grits and that you eat like a raccoon. I need to know what I'm working with here.

– You gonna private chef me now? – He chuckles, smiling stupidly as he drags a hand through his hair. – Gonna wear a maid outfit too?

– Name one vegetable you ate before I smack your head in the pavement.

Barry laughs, humming, dragging it out way too long, like he’s deep in thought.

Finally, he snaps his fingers.

– Potatoes. Had some french fries just last week.

You blink, unamused. – That doesn't count.

– The fuck you mean they don’t count? They grow outta the ground, don’t they?

– Mushrooms grow out of the ground too, I don’t see you scarfing those down.

Barry grins, tilting his head at you. – You cookin' mushrooms?

You cross your arms. – Maybe.

– Then I’ll eat 'em.

You narrow your eyes. – Just like that?

He shrugs. – Yeah. If you make 'em, I’ll eat 'em.

Barry’s looking at you now, really looking at you, like he’s only just realized how close you still are, how your fingers are still curled into the fabric of his shirt, how you’re still clinging to this conversation like it’s the only thing keeping you steady.

His gaze flickers—down, then back up.

– Sweetheart—

You don’t let him finish.

– We should get ice cream, – You say, forcing the lightness back into your voice, into the space between you. – I think I deserve ice cream after almost dying on that stupid bike.

Barry lets the moment pass. Lets you have it. 

He snorts. – Now who's eatin’ like a raccoon?

You grin, tugging him toward the store. – I’m a refined raccoon. It’s different.

He laughs, shaking his head as he lets you pull him along. – Yeah, alright, sweetheart. Whatever you say. – He groans, stretches, throwing an arm around your back. – It better be some dinner if Rafe fucking Cameron is gonna be there when we’re back. – He groans, stretches, pulling you along as he steps towards the grocery store.

Your chest tightens at the mention— You do your best not to show it. You try to keep it down. Push it down. Because if it surfaces, it’ll consume you. You won’t be able to pull yourself out of it.

You can’t.

Not now.

Not here.

Because Barry knows you too well. Because he’s already suspicious. Because if you freeze, if you flinch, if you so much as breathe wrong—he’ll catch it. – Let’s not talk about that. – You pull him along. – You know what? I should make some steak, – You say, too quickly, too light. It’s not fair how easy it is to pretend that everything is fine. – You like steak, don’t you?

Barry hums. Relaxed. Unaware.

– I’d never turn down a steak. 

– Hard to imagine you turning anything down.  

Barry feigns a gasp, chuckling. – You think I’m easy like that, do you? 

– I know you are. Slut. – You shoulder him softly, and he gasps again, pushing you back. – Skirt steak and roast potatoes, then, since you like them so much. – You say. – I’ll throw some broccoli and carrots in the mix, so you remember what other vegetables look like. Some charro beans. How's that sound?

Barry glances at you, something unreadable in his eyes. – Like more than I deserve.

– Well Bee, you get nothing but the five star treatment when you’re with me. – Barry goes quiet for half a second, his smile absent-minded. You push forward before he can think too hard about it. – Besides, if I cook something good, maybe you’ll be too full to beat Rafe up. – The name is bitter, the memory even more so, but you smile nonetheless, your leg brushing against his as you walk. – Please don’t, by the way. He is my boss.

Barry's expression sours immediately. – Yeah, he is also a rich jerk-off who does nothing but piss me off. Who owes me a fuck-ton of money. Who took the bike he left me as fucking collateral and dipped. The least I could fucking do is beat him up.

– I'm begging you. I'm not saying he doesn't deserve it— He does. – Barry laughs, you try to bite back your feelings. – But please. Please. Don't beat him up. Not here. Not now.

He eyes you for a moment. Quiet, frustrated. He bites the inside of his cheek, shaking his head. – I won’t. But don't forget that he deserves it. Sweetheart, you could make a fuckin’ ribeye and cover it in gold, and it still ain’t gonna fix whatever the hell is wrong with that guy.

– You never know. – You mull on his unintended insult for a second, wishing you had kept your mouth shut. – Food is powerful.

Barry snorts. Tension gone. Subject changed

He side-eyes you, smirking, the gold tooth catching the last dying rays of sun before you’re both consumed by the artificial lights bleeding from the store. – Yeah? If it’s powerful then why hasn’t it fixed my life yet?

– Because you keep eating gas station burritos instead of my cooking.

Barry laughs, loud, unrestrained, shaking his head as he nudges you forward, leading you into the store. – Your brother ate your food his whole life and he’s still a bum, though.

– Ouch. – You laugh. – You’re the jerk-off. I should let you starve.

– You won’t, you love me too much. – He squeezes your side, looking across the store. – I’ll go get the beef. Skirt, right?

– Yeah. Or flank, whatever’s cheaper.

He nods, squeezing your waist one last time before wandering off. It’s colder now, and you feel the air conditioning biting into you as you drift down the isles, throwing this or that thing in the shopping basket.

The air inside the store is too cold, too bright, too artificial. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, washing everything in a pale, almost sterile glow. The faint hum of pop music drifts from the speakers, clashing against the quiet murmur of late-evening shoppers, the slow beeping of cash registers, the rustle of plastic bags.

Your fingers tighten around the shopping basket, the plastic biting into your palm.

Steak. Potatoes. Broccoli. Carrots.

You move automatically, grabbing, searching, tossing things inside.

But now that Barry's gone, your brain takes the silence as a license to keep tormenting you.

The memories loop.

Rafe's hands. 

His shallow breath.

His eyes, not blown out, but frantic.

The way his hands curled around your wrist, tight, unyielding. The certainty in his voice, the delusion of his words.

You blink hard, shake your head.

Milk.

You need to find the milk, the beans, the onions.

It’s easier to think about things you can control. Easier to think about the cooking.

Soak the beans. Sauté the onions. Brown the beef.

You reach for soke shallots, cheaper and in season, scanning them thoroughly. You should sautee them in butter. You should think about something other than the person waiting for you at Barry’s place.

You hear your name. 

The voice is soft. Uneven. Familiar.

– I’m here, Bee. – You call, the words leave absentmindedly. You keep looking through the onions, the garlic, the fresh peppers. He puts his hand on your back, warm, casual. – That was quick. What’s wrong? They out of flank?

Your body reacts before your brain does.

You turn. You smile  instinctively. 

But it’s not Barry that is standing there next to you.

It’s JJ.

Blue eyes boring into yours, shoulders tense, head ducked slightly like he’s bracing for impact, like he's waiting for you to turn around and leave. Looking at you like he already knows he doesn’t deserve to be there.

The air shifts.

The cold seeps in deeper.

Your stomach twists as you look at him.

The bruises on his face have gotten darker. Where before there was mostly yellow blotches and hues of purple, now he’s full-on black and blue, a blue as dark as the shirt he’s wearing. – I look bad, huh? – He chuckles awkwardly, and his fingers twitch against your back, briefly fisting the fabric of your top in his hand. – You know I’m not Barry’s biggest fan, but I gotta give it to him, he’s got one hell of a right hook. 

That awkward laugh falls from his lips again, his shoulders tensing, his free hand squeezing tightly around the handle of a six pack.

You don’t know what to say.

If you even should say anything.

He doesn’t give you the time. 

If there’s one thing JJ can’t handle it’s silence, especially when he’s fucked up. – What are you doing here? I mean, not that you can’t be here— you are, and you can—I’m glad you’re here. I— You don’t come to Shoreline often, that’s what I mean. – He rambles, staring, gripping, shifting restlessly on his feet. – You’re— shopping? What are you cooking? Flank, right? What is it? Carne asada?

You just stare.

For a second, it’s like your brain lags, stutters, refuses to process what’s happening.

The last time you saw JJ, he was pleading, bargaining, breaking down in that police station.

Now he’s here, standing in front of you, babbling, shifting around, looking at you as if it were nothing, as if this were a casual conversation between two people who have no stakes in each other's lives.

You blink. 

Your fingers tighten around the shopping basket.

– I— You stop. Shake your head. – It’s nothing.

You regret speaking as soon as you do, because JJ relaxes immediately, he breathes in deeper, he almost smiles. Latching onto the slightest response as if it will redeem him.

– Come on, – He says, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. – You don’t cook ‘nothing.’ You’re too much of a perfectionist for that. What is it? Something fancy? Something— He swallows. Tries to sound casual. – Something for Barry?

Your stomach twists.

You should lie. 

You should say no.

But your silence answers for you.

JJ’s jaw tics. His fingers flex against the six-pack.

– I figured you were staying with him. – His voice is lighter than it should be. Like he’s forcing himself to pretend this isn’t a big deal. Like he’s trying not to sound hurt. Like he doesn’t realize he’s the reason you don’t have anywhere else to go. – You could’ve— He tsks, looking over his shoulder, then back at you. – You could’ve done better than that. You could’ve stayed with me.

The urge to laugh bubbles up unexpectedly.

He says it as if he wasn’t the one that forced you out of your house. As if he hadn’t told you never to come back. 

He’s trying his best to act like he hasn’t done anything. Because JJ has never been able to sit with what he’s done.

He doesn’t think about what comes after. 

He doesn’t think about how his actions affect people.

He just moves. Reacts. Regrets.

Now, he’s standing in front of you, waiting for you to fix this for him, as if he wasn’t the one who broke it in the first place.

He wants you to forget.

But you just exhale slowly, steadying yourself.

To tell him it’s fine.

To tell him you forgive him.

To make it easy.

– I’m leaving now.

His face falls. – Baby, wait— He pleads. But you’re already turning, already walking, already done with this conversation before it can even begin.

JJ grabs your arm.

Not rough. Not like Rafe. But desperate.

His fingers curl around your wrist, warm, pleading, shaking just slightly. – Just—just talk to me. Please. Please, just talk to me. – The façade is gone. Not a trace of the hal-hazard casual mask he had on before,  just this pitiful, pathetic look in his eyes as he looks at you.

You already know where this is going.

– JJ—

– I fucked up, okay? – He talks over you, voice rushed, frantic, scrambling for something to hold onto. It’d almost surprise you that he would admit it, if you didn’t know that he was gonna take it back and make it your fault at some point. – I know I fucked up. I know I ruined it. I know I was being a dick, I know I was— I was out of line, but, you gotta believe me, I— I didn’t mean to—I was just angry, fuck I was so angry—Because I can’t—I can’t think when it comes to you, okay?! You drive me insane. I— I don’t know what’s going on with me.

You inhale slowly. 

You don’t let yourself look at him. 

You scan the aisles instead. Because you know Barry’s gotta be looking around for you.

And if he sees JJ’s hand around your arm— If he sees JJ gripping your wrist, yanking you back, getting in your face— That’ll be the end of it.

He won’t let that go.

And you know damn well neither of them can afford another visit to the police station.

– Let go of me. – You say, your voice soft, softer than he deserves.

– Just listen to me— just for a minute— His grip tightens slightly as you try to pull away, and he tugs you forward, hard. – I hate this. I hate it when you do this to me. You won’t even look at me. Just talk to me—

– Talk to you about what?! – The words leave you before you can stop them. You know you shouldn’t say anything. You know you should just let him suffocate in the silence, think about what he’s done until it actually drives him insane. But you can’t. Because the only thing JJ is actually good at is eroding at your patience. – What the fuck do you want me to talk about, JJ?! You nearly killed me, you kicked me out of my house, you tried to get me fired, what’s next? Is there anything in my life you’re not willing to ruin? Maybe that’s why you’re talking to me. Maybe you saw me with Barry and decided that I should just not have friends as well as a place to live, as well as a brother. That I just shouldn’t have anything at all.

His breath catches.

He flinches like you just hit him.

Like he suddenly, finally, understands how bad he fucked up.

But you’re not stupid enough to believe he actually did. Because you and him have been through this before, and yet you’re still here. – That’s not—Baby, I just—

– What?! What, JJ?! You just what?!

– I just want you with me. – He pleads. His voice low, his eyes burning into your with a desperation you haven’t seen in months. 

But it rings hollow, because he’s been this way before and that didn’t stop him from going out of his way to fuck with you again.

– You want me with you? – You scoff. – So you tried to kill me and kicked me out of my place? That’s a method I haven’t heard before.

He swallows, his jaw ticks, and he sways on his feet, pulling away the slightest bit before he leans back in, dragging you closer. – You don’t get it. I don’t— He breathes, heaves, his eyes dark. – I don’t want you with anybody. I just want you with me. Just with me. Not with Barry. Not with Rafe. Not even with John B. I don’t— I don’t want you around them.

You laugh before you can stop yourself. – Oh, that’s the reason. You want to ruin my life because you don’t want me near my best friend, my boss’ son or my actual brother?! That’s what you’re going with?

– DON’T— His voice raises, he stops himself, holding you tighter, looking at you with something almost feral in his eyes. – Don’t play dumb. Don’t act like that’s just what they are to you, because you know it’s not. You know.

– Excuse me?!

– Stop it. Stop doing this. Stop playing with me.

– You’re the one who’s fucking playing JJ. I get it that you’d think that Barry or Rafe are something more to me, because you’ve been never been friends with a girl— sorry, let me rephrase that— you’ve never been near a girl without thinking about fucking her. But my brother?! You’re that fucking twisted that you think my brother wants something more with me?

For a moment, JJ doesn’t say anything.

His grip is still firm, but he doesn’t yank you again. Doesn’t try to pull you closer.

He just stares.

There’s something unhinged in his eyes—wide, unblinking, mouth parted slightly like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. Like his mind is moving too fast for his lips to catch up.

Then his head shakes, slow and disbelieving. He exhales sharply, through his nose, like he’s biting back something ugly.

– You don’t get it. – His voice is quieter now, but no less dangerous. – You never fucking get this, do you?

A flicker of something ugly coils in your stomach.

– No, JJ. You don’t get it. – You shake your head, frustration bubbling over. – I’m done. I’m done playing these fucking games with you. Whatever you think you have to say, whatever excuse you’re about to pull out of your ass—I don’t care.

JJ stiffens, like the words physically hit him.

You rip your wrist free. But he doesn’t let you go far.

JJ breathes hard.

His fingers dig into your wrist, not painfully, but firm enough that you know—he’s not letting go.

His chest rises and falls too quickly, his lips part like he wants to say something, but nothing comes out.

Because he knows he fucked up.

Because he knows he’s losing you.

Because he doesn’t know how to stop it.

– Baby—

– No, – You snap. Lower. Sharper. – You don’t get to stand here and act like I’m the one playing games when you’re the one who’s been fucking with my life like it’s a fucking joke. Let go of me!

JJ flinches, but he still doesn’t let go.

– You don’t get it, – He mutters. His head shakes, his grip tightening. – I can’t— I can’t see you with them, okay? I can’t fucking do it. It makes me— He stops. Breathes. Jaw clenched so tight you think his teeth might break. – You don’t understand what it does to me.

– What it does to you? – You let out a bitter laugh, jerking your arm, but he won’t let go. – What about what you did to me, JJ? Or does that not fucking matter to you?

– It does! – He almost shouts, stepping closer. Too close. – You think I don’t think about it? You think I don’t hate myself for it? I don’t wanna hurt you— You scoff, and he grabs your other hand, – I don't! And I’m sorry I did that, okay?! I just—

He exhales sharply, like he’s about to unravel.

His voice drops. Lower. Darker.

– I can’t lose you, okay?! But you keep trying to run from me, and every time you do, you run straight into them. – He says it like it's a crime. Like you’re somehow betraying him or going behind his back by trying to find comfort in someone who isn't a psychopath who'll try to crash a bike with you on it when you don't do what he wants. – You do. And you don't even ask yourself what it does to me. You don't even care.

Your stomach flips.

It's actually terrifying just how quickly he managed to make him trying to ruin you into something that is somehow your fault.

It's cold.

And it's painful.

And you know that feeling better than you usually do. Because that's exactly what curled around your windpipe when Rafe started unraveling. Exactly what buzzed around your mind before he said those things to you.

Your heart lurches, you feel it knock against your ribcage and fall back, painful, agonizing, and you try to pull away. But JJ holds on.

– Let me go, JJ, – You say, voice low, final. – Let me go.

JJ tightens his grip.

Not painful, not quite—but enough.

Enough that you can’t pull away. Enough that you can feel the tension coiling inside him, shaking, barely contained.

– You’re not listening to me! Just stop running!

Your stomach turns.

You’ve heard this before.

Not in JJ’s voice, not in his frantic, desperate rasp—but in Rafe’s. The same words. The same twisting of reality. That same sharp-edged entitlement. That same certainty that you’re the one in the wrong, that you’re the one who’s not getting it.

The same cold grip.

The same curling dread before the storm.

Your breath hitches.

You try to pull away again, harder this time, sharper— But JJ won’t let go.

– Baby, please—

– Let. Me. Go.

His grip trembles, stutters. He keeps pulling you in, keeps digging his fingers into you. You try to turn away, try to wrangle your wrist from his grip.

But you barely have the time.

– What the fuck is this? – The words slice through the aisle like a blade. Low. Cold. Dangerous.

You don’t have to turn.

You don’t have to see him to know.

Because Barry found you first. – What? One black eye isn’t enough, you want another one?  

JJ stumbles.

Barry yanks him back hard, fast, so suddenly that JJ barely has time to catch his balance.

Your wrist is still caught in JJ’s grip, and for a split second, you’re pulled forward with him—

Until Barry sees it.

Until Barry sees that JJ is still holding onto you.

Barry’s breath goes slow. Even. Controlled.

But his eyes are lethal. – Let go of her before I break your fucking hand.

JJ doesn’t move.

Doesn’t drop your wrist.

Doesn’t listen. – We’re talking here, man.

Barry’s nostrils flare. His jaw tenses. His shoulders square. – No. You were talking. Now you're going!

You barely have time to react—Barry’s hand shoots out, clamping down on JJ’s wrist, so tight he actually lets go.

The moment JJ’s grip slackens, you rip your arm free, stumbling back.

JJ barely registers it.

Now he’s face-to-face with Barry.

And Barry is pushing him back, forcing space between you, pressing into his chest, making sure JJ has no choice but to look at him.

– What the fuck do you think you’re doing? – Barry’s voice is low, even, seething. JJ swallows hard. His jaw ticks. – You were fucking grabbing her. 

Barry steps forward.

JJ steps back, he looks at you. – You’re gonna let him talk to me like that? We were—

Barry laughs, but it's bitter, a rattle, like the sound of a gun loading. – Were what? You were talking, she was trying to get away from you, there’s a name for that isn't there? Assault.

– Oh, you wanna talk to me about crime?! – JJ shoves at his chest, but Barry barely budges. – If I called the cops right now I bet—

– You're calling the cops?! I bet they'd love to hear about you breaking into my house and stealing my money.

– Your drug money? – JJ laughs.

Barry rushes.

You pull him back at the last second, his hand fisted at his side. – Leave this alone.

He looks at you, irritation clear as day on his face. – This psycho is—

– Leaving. – You interrupt. – We’re leaving. Please. Let's go home.

– Home? Where’s that, huh, Y/n? – JJ growls. His eyes as dark as the bruises on his face. – Barry’s place? How long do you think that’s gonna last?!

– I’m neither leeching off of her money or trying to kill her on a bike, so probably longer than whatever it would with you. 

JJ rushes, grabbing at his shirt as Barry laughs. You shove him back at the last second, wedging yourself between them before this turns into something worse.

JJ barely moves.

But it’s enough.

His hands fist into Barry’s shirt, knuckles going white, breath ragged, body coiled like a spring.

Barry just grins.

That same infuriating, smug, taunting grin.

– What’s wrong, Maybank? – He drawls, voice low, lazy, full of venom. – You don't like the truth, is that it?!

JJ jerks forward again.

You push harder. – Stop it! Just fucking stop this already.

His chest heaves.

His fingers twitch.

For a second, you think he might actually swing.

Then, slowly, painfully, his hands unclench.

His breathing is erratic. Unsteady.

His eyes are wild. Dark. Hurt. Like he wants to break something. Like he wants to break himself.

He rasps out your name. His jaw ticks, clenches, loosens again. – You don’t have to do this. You know you don’t. I don't even know why you’re doing this.

You inhale sharply.

– Shut up. Just leave this alone, go away! – Your voice comes out tighter, sharper.

– You don’t belong with him. And you know you don’t. You're just trying to piss me off.

Your stomach twists.

Because there it is.

That final, desperate grasp.

The same twisted logic, the same certainty, the same delusion you saw in Rafe. 

You don’t let him take it further.

You turn.

You leave.

You pull Barry with you before he can turn to swing at JJ, your grip firm, unyielding

Your head spins.

You barely register paying for the groceries.

Barely feel the cold press of plastic bags in your hands.

And then, suddenly—

You’re standing before the bike again.

The store is a distant building, bright white lights bleeding from the wide glass panels, covering the surrounding asphalt in an artificial snowstorm of light. You look away from it, fearing JJ will walk out, try to come back, and Barry’s eyes meet yours.

Dark, warm, worried.

He’s holding your wrist as he pulls the helmet from the top box and puts the bags in. – Sweetheart. – He pulls at you softly, holding out the helmet. – Say something. I’m getting worried.

– Huh?

– You haven’t said a word. Look— I'm telling you that piece of shit isn't gonna get to you again, okay? I'm promising you.

You breathe out, rub your eyes, sit down. 

He leans the helmet on your lap, looking at you closely, the apprehension evident on his face. – This isn't something you can promise me, Bee. – The words are heavy, as heavy as your chest feels. – I'm the one who's playing stupid games and winning stupid prizes. This isn't your responsibility. You already do too much for me.

Barry frowns.

His grip on your wrist tightens, just slightly, just enough. Like he’s trying to pull you back to him.

– Don’t say shit like that.

You let out a breath, staring at the pavement.

– It's the truth.0 I’m the one who keeps letting them back in. I'm a fucking idiot. You told me a thousand times that they were fucked up and I didn't listen to you. Now I'm paying the toll.

Barry goes dead silent.

For a moment, you think he’s gonna laugh. You can't imagine something he'd like better than being able to say “I told you so”.

But he crouches down in front of you.

Right there, in the middle of the parking lot.

Balancing on the balls of his feet, forearms braced against his knees, his head tilted up so you can’t avoid looking at him.

– You did that out of loyalty, I can’t exactly give you a hard time about that. – He hums, twisting the fabric of the blue top between your fingers, as if to comfort himself. – I'll be honest, I don't know why you even bothered to be loyal to that piece of shit, why you kept worrying about him. I don't know. But I'm not gonna sit here and talk your ear off about JJ, or your brother and their bullshit when I know that we're only here right now because you keep forgiving me as well.

– That’s different. You deserved it. They didn't.

– I didn’t deserve it. – He hums, grinning dumbly. – You just love me too much not to.

– Ha-ha.

You don’t know what to say.

Because you don’t know what to do with that.

You don’t know how to take it, how to hold it, how to believe it. Barry sighs, shakes his head, and leans forward.

Slow. 

Easy.

His arms brace against your thighs. His hands anchor against your knees.

– You listen to me, okay sweetheart? – He murmurs, voice warm, grounding. You nod. Barely. – Now that you're gonna be cooking me fancy meals and cleaning up my place ain’t nobody takin’ you from me. – He laughs. – Not JJ, not Rafe, not your dumbass brother, not the cops, the FBI, the fuckin’ interpol, whatever. Nobody. – His head tilts, gold tooth catching the light as he smirks, just barely. – It’s just too easy a life to give up. And if I gotta break a few noses to make that clear, well— He shrugs. – Then that’s just what’s gotta be done.

Your chest shakes with something halfway between a laugh and a sigh.

Barry grins.

– There she is.

You roll your eyes, nudging at his shoulder. He doesn’t budge. – You’re a drama queen.

– Yeah, and? You love me anyway.

He winks, obnoxious, teasing, and you push the helmet back into his hands.

Barry pats your leg, a light tap just above your knee, before pushing himself up to stand.

– Alright, c’mon, – He mutters, slipping the helmet over his head. – Get on upright. 

You huff a laugh, shaking your head, but you listen. You slide onto the bike, shifting slightly until you’re settled, until your body remembers how to sit, how to balance, how to breathe.

Barry climbs on in front of you, his hands moving with practiced ease, turning the key, revving the engine, fixing the side view mirrors—

It dawns on you then.

You're not going home. Home to Barry’s place, where you can cook in peace and go to sleep as if the world isn't crumbling around you.

You're going home to Rafe.

Your heart sinks.

The noise hits you first —The low, steady purr of the bike beneath you, vibrating through your body, the way it lunges, the way the speed slams on you, as if the world around you didn't want you to go.

Your fingers grip at his shirt.

Not playful. Not teasing.

Tight. Frozen.

Barry notices immediately.

He tilts his head slightly, just enough for his voice to reach you—low, quiet, warm over his shoulder.

– He ain’t gonna do nothing, sweetheart. Don't worry.

Your breath catches.

For a second—just a second—you wonder if he’s reading your mind. If he can feel the exact moment you realize where you’re going. As if he can see it in your body, in the way your fingers tremble slightly against his ribs, in the way your breath stutters in your chest.

Because you’re not just thinking about the bike.

You’re thinking about Rafe.

About going back.

About walking into that house and seeing him again.

Your pulse pounds.

Your hands curl tighter around the fabric of Barry's clothes, desperate for something to ground you.

Something moves slightly from the corner of your eye. You barely register it at first. The world blurs slightly as the bike rolls forward, the hum of the engine taking over your senses.

JJ. 

Standing by the doors of the store, watching you.

Watching you leave.

His eyes gleam strangely. With something dark. Something heavy. 

That’s who Barry was talking about. 

He doesn’t give JJ the time to fuck around.

The bike moves, quickly, unlike Barry promised.

But the speed of it is nothing compared to the speed at which your mind races —You close your eyes, trying to focus on the feel of Barry’s shirt beneath your fingers, on the wind the hushes around your ears as the bike moves, on the buzz of moving cars, moving people, on the distant echoes of the ocean crashing on the shore. 

But it’s to no avail.

The feeling of  Barry’s shirt wraps around your hand until it turns into the same grip Rafe had on you, the same grip that JJ had. The wind turns into a whisper, the whisper of Rafe’s delusions in your ear, of JJ’s practiced bullshit. The moving cars, the people, the ocean mix into the cacophony of noises that surge and sink back into your mind.

Your balance wavers.

Your eyes peek open.

The rushing ground beneath calls to you.

You hold on tighter.

Tighter.

Barry’s hands meet your arms every time he hits a red light. 

He whispers something or another every so often, and you either hum or laugh according to his tone. But you don’t hear it, his words. They whizz, fracturing with the wind, lost within the barrier, visor of his helmet, the road that keeps rushing forward to meet you.

You don’t register it when the bike stops at last.

But you open your eyes to see the trailer there, and you almost think you’re having a nightmare.

You don’t move.

Not at first.

The engine cuts off, the deep, steady rumble disappearing beneath the weight in your chest.

Barry shifts slightly in front of you.

His hands leave the handlebars, reach for your arms, still wrapped around him, brush over your wrists, light and grounding. – Sweetheart? – His voice is softer now. Barely above a murmur. Checking in. Feeling you out.

Your fingers are still curled into his shirt.

Too tight. Too frozen.

You force yourself to breathe.

The air is thicker now.

Heavy. Close. Suffocating.

The sound of the ocean isn’t distant anymore.

It’s right there, crashing against the shore, against your ribs, pulling you under.

– I know you like holding me, but we have to go. C’mon. I'm starving.

Barry pats your knee, light, careful, like he knows not to spook you.

You nod.

Loosen your grip.

Uncurl your fingers. Force yourself to let go.

And then, slowly, stiffly, you slide off the bike.

Your knees feel weak.

Your stomach turns.

And for a second—just a second—you wonder if you might collapse right there in the sand.

Barry is already off the bike, already stepping in front of you, already pressing a hand to your waist, steadying you before you can fall.

– Sweetheart—

– I’m fine.

You aren’t.

Barry narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t stop you, he just watches you. His fingers stay put. Firm. Warm. Like he’s not quite convinced you won’t slip away.

You’re not either.

You drag your feet as he pulls you towards the door, and it seems to loom closer, larger, taller with every step. You hand him the keys, and he takes them slowly, eyeing you carefully before he takes the shopping bags from your hands.

The door creaks open, a screech that needles through the silence, sharp as any blade. 

You step inside before him.

And Barry follows.

The air inside the trailer is warm, stale, suffocating. You smell the acrid scent of sweat, the tang of restlessness suffocated within the closed windows. But Barry doesn’t seem to notice. He shakes his head, scoffing, tossing the keys onto the corner table with a clatter. 

Your eyes catch on Rafe, sock-covered feet thrown over the arm of the couch, shifting, moving. But he doesn’t stand up.

– Long day, huh, Country Club? – His voice is sharp-edged, mocking. – Bet you had a real rough time sittin’ on your ass. – Rafe doesn’t answer. Barry rolls his eyes. – Fuckin’ useless, – He mutters under his breath, already moving toward the kitchen, already unbagging groceries like Rafe isn’t even there.

You don’t move.

Something isn’t right.

Your gaze flickers toward the couch.

Rafe is still laying there. Still. Too still.

His eyes are open, half-lidded, staring at the unmoving ceiling fan as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t turn his head. Doesn’t react.

Your stomach tightens.

Barry keeps grumbling, rummaging through the bags. – Broccoli, sweetheart? – A scoff. – Jesus. Even you can’t make this taste decent.

You barely hear him.

At first you couldn’t bear the idea of being in the same house as Rafe, now you can barely tear your eyes off him. Off the restless, random movements he makes, almost like spasms. His good hand clenching and unclenching, hanging off the couch.

– Rafe?

Your voice comes out softer than you mean it to.

But he still doesn’t respond, not with words, anyway.

You hear a groan, the shift of fabric, the creak of the couch.

But whatever it is that Rafe mumbles is lost in the noises Barry makes from the kitchen, on the howling on the wind outside, banging against the windows.

Your pulse quickens.

You take a step closer, but your feet shift backwards almost on instinct. The fear pulling you back. So instead you call out to him. – Rafe? Are you awake?

Nothing.

You step closer, the dread seeping through your bones as you trudge forward.

The floor creaks beneath your weight, but Rafe doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react.

He’s draped in the same blanket you gave him, the fabric bunched around his shoulders, half-hazardly thrown over him, clinging to the damp sheen of sweat slicking his skin.

His chest rises and falls. Shallow. Too shallow. His lips part, then close. Mumbling.

But no sound comes out.

Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

Barry’s still behind you, still unloading groceries, huffing and murmuring under his breath— But you don’t hear him anymore. Your pulse is too loud, too sharp, too deafening in your ears.

Your eyes fall to Rafe’s hand, his broken hand. Under the cast that braces his broken bones, his fingers are arduously clenched around a bottle. An orange bottle.

Your heart stops.

You rush forward.

Dropping to your knees beside the couch, grab his wrist, shake him— Rafe! – You shake him again, frantic now. Nothing. – Rafe!

You pry the bottle from his fingers. Feel the few remaining pills rattle against plastic. Almost empty.

Rafe is barely there.

He murmurs.

A low, slurred noise, barely audible, almost swallowed by the thick, suffocating silence.

He giggles.

A breathy, distant thing.

Like he’s not even here.

Like he doesn’t even know where he is.

– Fuck. – Your hands grip his shoulders, shaking him harder. – Rafe, wake up!

His body sways.

His head lolls back slightly, like it’s too heavy for his neck.

– Sweetheart, what’s going on?

You curse under your breath, shifting, moving fast, sliding an arm under his back to pull him up—

Rafe gives you the slightest movement. His hand drifts up your side.

Slow.

Fingertips dragging over fabric, over skin, barely there but still lingering.

You freeze.

His breath catches.

His eyes—unfocused, glassy, blown out—stare right through you. – Baby… – He hums, low, gravely, as if his throat is thick. – You’re back… – He giggles, dazed. – I knew you’d come back to me. I knew you weren’t gonna leave me here alone.

– What were you thinking, Rafe?! How many of these fucking pills did you take?! – Your voice barely makes it past your throat.

He laughs.

Just laughs.

Soft. Detached.

Your heart stutters.

– A—All of them.

@chatgtfo @bitterdotcom @xmayankax @bluethperson @coralblue35 @myluvingera @munsoncultedits @the-bitch-who-binges @im-julessssss @redkarmakai @hwaaholic @sydkneez @sassyvilliantrope @vampiriito @sassybearfire @matildalittlefreak @sunsetkiss333

[drewsephrry]

p.links

(updated 02/14/2025)

18+ content

outer banks

rafe cameron

overstimulation

doggy

making out

manhandling you while having sex

morning sex

fingering you while driving

grinding on him until he cums

taking care of each other

holding hands during missionary

stepbro!rafe fucking you in secret

pogue!gf

squirting

somnophilia

riding rafe

bouncing back on it

humping frat!rafe's thigh in his dorm room

nerd!rafe eating you out like you're his last meal

s2!rafe taking care of his girl

jj maybank

fingering and spanking you

eating you out

69

fucking you in the bathroom after a beach day

drew starkey

doggy

munch!drew (actually looks like drew a lot)

hope you enjoy little freaks hehe <3

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - BACK TO YOU

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ jj maybank ⋆ ex!pogue!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which you return to the island after moving away and have to confront unresolved feelings and changes in the friend group.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, drama, mention of past self-harm, mention of past suicide attempt, mention of depression/mental health issues, alcohol abuse, unresolved emotional/romantic tension, trauma, mention of parental abuse/neglect, emotional cheating, jj is dating kiara, pretend luke didn’t leave, tw: surf competition, reconciliation, emotional vulnerability, unprotected vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex, dirty talk, praise, teasing, power play, and overstimulation (please dni if your sensitive to any of these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 19,166

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ this is long and very emotional/dramatic which is half of the reason it's been sitting in drafts forever. this was only written because I just love the song and wanted something based on it.

⋆.˚✮back to you✮˚.⋆

(༝༚༝༚ selena gomez)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──. Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

JJ stands awkwardly by the cooler, his fingers drumming against the metal surface as he watches you grab another case of beer. The setting sun casts long shadows across John B's backyard, painting everything in hues of orange and pink. The salty breeze carries the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore, mixing with the muffled laughter and music inside the house. He can't help but steal glances at you, memories of your past flooding his mind like an unwanted tide.

"So uh..." JJ clears his throat, adjusting his shark tooth necklace nervously. "How was... wherever the fuck you went?" He tries to maintain his usual carefree demeanor, but an edge to his voice betrays his discomfort. His blue eyes dart between you and the ground, unable to maintain steady eye contact. The weight of your unspoken history hangs heavy between you, thicker than the humid Carolina evening.

You stand awkwardly, your fingers nervously playing with the label of your beer bottle. You avoid JJ's gaze, focusing instead on the peeling paint of John B's deck railing. The tension between you two is suffocating, making the humid evening air feel even heavier. "Maine," you finally answer, your voice barely above a whisper. "We went to Maine."

JJ's jaw tightens at the mention of Maine, his fingers flexing around his beer bottle as he processes just how far away you’ve been. "Maine? Fuck, that's like... way up there with all those lobsters and shit," he says, trying to maintain his usual lighthearted tone but failing miserably. 

"You look..." He starts, then stops himself, shoving his free hand into the pocket of his board shorts. "I mean, it's good you're back and shit. The group missed you." He deliberately leaves out the fact that he missed you too, that your absence left a void that even Kiara couldn't quite fill. The tension between you is palpable, like the electricity in the air before a storm - something the Outer Banks knows all too well. He takes a long pull from his beer, using it as an excuse to break the uncomfortable silence that's settled between you.

You take a long sip from your bottle, using the moment to gather your thoughts. The sight of JJ - still as handsome as ever with his messy blonde hair and those blue eyes - makes your heartache in a way you thought you’d gotten over. The sound of Kiara's laughter from inside feels like a knife twisting in your gut. "I see you and Kie finally..." you trail off, unable to finish the sentence. Your skin glows in the porch light.

"Yeah, me and Kie..." he trails off, taking another long pull from his beer to avoid finishing the sentence. The truth is, things with Kiara are good - great even - but standing here with you brings back all the complicated feelings he'd tried to bury in the sand. 

"The group seems... good," you manage, trying to keep your voice steady. "Different, but good." You risk a glance at JJ, immediately regretting it when you catch his eyes. Those same eyes that used to look at you with such intensity, now belong to someone else. You shift your weight, your sundress rustling softly in the evening breeze. 

A loud crash from inside the house makes you both jump causing you to spill a bit of beer on your dress, followed by John B's distinctive "Everything's fine!" JJ lets out a forced laugh, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He's hyper-aware of every movement you make, every shift in your posture, every breath you take. The familiar scent of your perfume mixed with the salt air brings back memories he's tried so hard to suppress - stolen kisses behind the Wreck, late-night surfing sessions, promises made and broken. He adjusts his stance, trying to maintain a careful distance between you, even as every fiber of his being wants to close it.

"Shit," you mutter, dabbing at the spot with your free hand. You can feel JJ's presence just a few feet away, and it takes everything in you not to close that distance. "I should've called or something," you say suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "Before I left, I mean. I just... I couldn't." Your voice cracks slightly on the last word, betraying the emotions you're trying so hard to keep in check.

The raw honesty in your voice, when you mention not calling, makes his throat tight. "Yeah, well..." JJ runs a hand through his hair again, his shark tooth necklace catching the light as he moves. "Probably wouldn't have answered anyway. Was pretty fucked up back then." He lets out a laugh, but there's pain behind it. "Still am, just better at hiding it now." The admission hangs between you like smoke, heavy and suffocating. He can hear Sarah and John B singing off-key inside, the sound a stark contrast to the tension-filled bubble you're standing in.

He watches as you dab at the beer stain on your dress, fighting the urge to help you like he would have before. "Fuck, hold up," he mutters, pulling off his worn t-shirt and offering it to you without thinking. The porch light illuminates the scattered bruises across his torso - some new, some old ones you’d recognize.

You stand there, your heart racing as you stare at JJ's shirtless form. You reach out hesitant to take his shirt, your fingers brushing briefly in a way that sends electricity through your entire body. "Thanks," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"You look good though," he finally says, the words escaping before he can stop them. His eyes meet yours for a moment before quickly looking away. "I mean, like, healthy and shit. That's... that's good." He shifts uncomfortably, very aware that he's still shirtless and that the space between you feels both too large and not large enough. The familiar scent of your perfume is making his head spin, or maybe it's the beer, or maybe it's just you - it's always been you. "Did it help?" he asks quietly, genuinely wanting to know. "Going away? Did it... fix things?" The question carries more weight than he intends, loaded with all the things he never got to say before you left.

The sound of Kiara's laughter drifts out again, and you flinches visibly. You take another long drink from your beer, needing the liquid courage. "It helped," you finally answer his question, unconsciously running your fingers over the faded scars on your wrists. "The doctors, the therapy, the distance... It helped. But it didn't fix everything." You look up at him then, really look at him, taking in how the years have changed him. He's still JJ - still beautiful but there's something harder in his eyes now, something that wasn't there before.

You clutch his shirt in your hands, the familiar scent of him - salt air, coconut surf wax, and something distinctly JJ - making you dizzy with memories. "I..." you start, then swallow hard. "I wanted to call. Every single day, I picked up my phone and stared at your number until the screen went black."

"I missed you," You confess quietly, immediately regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. "I mean, I missed everyone," you quickly add, but you both know it's not the same thing. You can feel the weight of everything unsaid between you, three years' worth of words you never got to say. "You look happy," you say, trying to smile even though it feels like your heart is breaking all over again. "With Kie, I mean. You guys... you make sense together." The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you force it out anyway. Because what else can you say? That seeing them together feels like drowning? That every time you close your eyes, you still see him? That Maine might have helped you heal your mind, but it did nothing to heal your heart? 

A burst of laughter from inside makes him jump, reminding him where you are and who's waiting for him. "Happy?" he scoffs, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "Yeah, sure. I'm fucking peachy." His sarcasm is sharp enough to cut, a defense mechanism he's perfected over the years. He takes another long drink from his beer, finishing it in one go before setting it down with more force than necessary. "And don't do that shit about me and Kie making sense. You don't get to..." he stops himself again, running a hand over his face.

"Fuck, Y/N/N," JJ breathes out, using your old nickname without thinking. His fingers twitch at his sides, wanting to reach for you but knowing he can't. The sight of you touching your wrist scars makes his stomach turn - he remembers the day he found you, remembers the blood, remembers feeling more terrified than he'd ever been in his life.

"You can't just come back here and say shit like that," he says, his voice rough with emotion. He runs both hands through his hair in frustration, pacing a small circle on the deck. "You left, Y/N. You fucking left and I..." he trails off, the rest of the sentence dying in his throat. The memory of those first few weeks, after you disappeared, hits him like a physical blow - the drinking, the fights, the reckless behavior that even John B couldn't talk him down from.

"I didn't want to leave, JJ," You say, taking a step closer to him despite yourself. The electricity between you is almost tangible now. "You think I wanted to be shipped off to fucking Maine? To be locked up in some facility where they watched my every move? Where they made me talk about every fucking thing that was wrong with me?" Your voice rises slightly before you catch yourself, glancing nervously at the house. "I was drowning here, JJ. I was drowning and I couldn't..." 

"You know what? Fuck this," JJ says suddenly, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else - something that looks dangerously close to the way he used to look at you. "You want to know what happened after you left? I fucking lost it, Y/N. I was so fucked up I couldn't even..." he cuts himself off, aware he's saying too much. The space between you feels charged with electricity, like the air before a storm. 

"But hey, at least the doctors fixed you up real nice, right?" The words are meant to sting, but there's a tremor in his voice that betrays him. He's still that same boy who used to sneak into your room at night, who used to hold you when the darkness got too heavy, who promised he'd always be there - until you made it impossible to keep that promise." His eyes intense as they lock onto yours. "I used to check your social media every fucking day. Every. Day. Just to make sure you were still..." he trails off, unable to finish the sentence. 

Your hands tremble as you clutch his shirt tighter, his familiar scent making your head spin. "Lost it?" You repeat, your voice cracking. "You think you were the only one who lost it?" The words come out sharper than intended, years of buried pain rising to the surface. Your skin flushes with anger and hurt, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. The bitterness in his voice when he mentions the doctors makes you flinch. "Fixed me up real nice?" You repeat, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. "Is that what you think? That I'm all better now? That I just went away and came back brand new?" You move closer still, close enough to see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, close enough to smell the beer on his breath. "I still have nightmares. I still get days where I can barely get out of bed. The only difference is now I have better coping mechanisms than..." 

His confession about checking your social media makes your heart stutter in your chest. "I deactivated everything," you admit quietly, your voice thick with emotion. "Because every time I logged on, all I wanted to do was message you. Tell you I was sorry. Tell you I..." you stop yourself, very aware of how close you're standing now, of the fact that he's still shirtless, of Kiara just inside the house. "It doesn't matter now, does it?" You say, taking a step back, trying to create some distance between you even though every cell in your body screams to move closer. "You moved on. You're happy. That's... that's good." The lie tastes like poison on your tongue, but you force it out anyway, because what right do you have to come back here and disrupt his life? What right do you have to still want him this much?

JJ's body tenses as Pope's voice cuts through the charged atmosphere. "What’s taking so long with those beers? John B's about to start drinking mouthwash if we don't..." Pope trails off as he steps onto the deck, his eyes darting between JJ's shirtless form and you holding the said shirt. "Oh shit, my bad, I didn't..." he starts, but JJ cuts him off with a sharp laugh that sounds more like a bark.

"Nothing to be sorry for, Pope," JJ says, his voice carrying an edge that makes Pope raise his eyebrows. JJ snatches up the case of beer from the cooler, his movements jerky and aggressive. "Just catching up with our prodigal pogue here. Sharing war stories about her fancy fucking therapy in Maine." The words come out dripping with sarcasm, but there's a tremor in his hands as he grips the beer case. The porch light catches the tension in his jaw, the way his muscles are coiled tight like he's ready to either fight or flee.

"JJ," Pope says warningly, recognizing the signs of his friend spiraling. He's seen this before - usually right before JJ does something spectacularly stupid. "Maybe we should all just-" But JJ's already moving, shouldering past both of them towards the house. He pauses at the door, his back to you, his knuckles white around the beer case. "You know what the fucked up part is?" he says, not turning around. "I actually thought..." he stops, letting out a bitter laugh. "Doesn't matter what I thought. Welcome home, Y/N. Hope Maine was worth it."

Pope watches JJ disappear inside before turning to you with an apologetic look. "He was really messed up when you left," he says quietly, always the mediator. "Like, more than usual messed up. Started getting into fights with Topper almost daily, drinking more than his dad. Kiara was the only one who could calm him down sometimes." He runs a hand over his face, looking tired. "Look, I know it's not my place, but... maybe give him some time? He's better now, but seeing you again..." Pope glances at the door where you can hear JJ's forced laughter mixing with the others. "It's like reopening an old wound, you know?"

You stare at the door JJ just disappeared through, your heart feeling like it's being ripped apart all over again. His shirt is still clutched in your trembling hands, and you bring it unconsciously closer to your chest. You can feel tears threatening to spill over. "Time?" You repeat Pope's words with a hollow laugh. "Yeah, because three years wasn't enough time, right?" Your voice cracks on the last word, and you have to take a deep breath to steady yourself.

"In Maine, they made us write letters. Letters to everyone we hurt, everyone who hurt us. I wrote so many letters to JJ that they had to give me extra paper." You let out a shaky breath, running your fingers over the soft fabric of JJ's shirt. "Never sent a single one. How do you put three years of 'I'm sorry' and 'I miss you' and 'I still...' into words that don't sound completely fucking pathetic?"

The sound of breaking glass comes from inside, followed by Kiara's concerned "JJ?" Pope closes his eyes and sighs. "And there it is. I better..." he gestures towards the house. "You coming?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of everything that's just transpired.

The sound of Kiara's concerned voice calling for JJ makes your stomach twist painfully. "You should go check on him," you say to Pope, finally looking up. Your eyes are swimming with unshed tears, but you refuse to let them fall. "I'll... I'll be in in a minute. Just need to..." You gesture vaguely at yourself, trying to pull together the pieces of your composure that JJ's words had shattered. "And Pope?" You call as he turns to leave. "I know everyone probably hates me for leaving. Hell, I hate myself for it. But I didn't have a choice. It was either leave or..." 

You can hear more commotion from inside - JJ's voice raised, something else breaking, Kiara trying to calm him down. The sound makes your chest ache in a way that feels physical. "Fuck," you whisper to yourself, looking down at JJ's shirt still in your hands. You bring it to your face, inhaling his scent one last time before forcing yourself to fold it neatly. You’ll have to give it back eventually, but right now, you need a moment to remember how to breathe without feeling like you’re drowning all over again. The irony isn't lost on you - you left the Outer Banks to stop feeling like you were drowning, only to come back and find yourself deeper underwater than ever before.

The tension in living room is thick enough to cut with a knife as you enter. JJ is sprawled on the couch next to Kiara, his arm draped possessively around her shoulders while nursing what appears to be his fifth beer. There's broken glass by the kitchen counter that Sarah's carefully sweeping up, shooting concerned glances at everyone.

"So this competition tomorrow," John B says too loudly, clearly trying to diffuse the tension. "Heard Topper's entering too." He's sitting cross-legged on the floor, picking at the label of his beer bottle. "Gonna be some sick waves though, bro. Weather report's saying six-footers at least."

JJ snorts, his blue eyes deliberately avoiding your direction. "Yeah, well, Topper can suck my-" Kiara elbows him in the ribs, cutting him off. "What? I'm just saying the trust fund baby probably can't even tell the difference between the nose and tail of his board." His words are slightly slurred, with anger and alcohol making his voice thicker.

"Actually," Sarah pipes up from the kitchen, dumping the broken glass in the trash, "I heard he's been practicing a lot." She settles onto the arm of John B's chair, her blonde hair catching the dim light. "Something about wanting to prove himself or whatever."

Pope shifts slightly as you sit next to him, creating a protective barrier between you and JJ. "You still surf, Y/N?" he asks, trying to include you in the conversation. "Remember that time you totally schooled JJ on that left break by the pier?"

"Fuck off, Pope," JJ snaps, his grip tightening on his beer bottle. "That was one time, and I was hungover as shit." Kiara places a calming hand on his thigh, but he shrugs it off, standing up abruptly. "I need another beer."

"Maybe you should slow down," Kiara suggests gently, reaching for his hand. "The competition's early tomorrow and-"

"I said I need another fucking beer," JJ cuts her off, his voice sharp. He stalks toward the kitchen, purposely taking the long way around to avoid passing near you. "And for the record," he adds, pausing in the doorway, "that left break? I let her win. Figured she needed the ego boost since she was so fucking fragile back then." The words are meant to wound, and from the way you tense beside him, Pope can tell they hit their mark.

John B stands up, running a hand through his hair. "JJ, bro, come on-"

"What?" JJ whirls around, his eyes blazing. "We all just gonna pretend like everything's normal? Like she didn't just fuck off for three years and come waltzing back expecting everything to be the same?" He lets out a bitter laugh. "Nah, I'm good. You guys can play happy fucking family without me."

The room falls into a heavy silence after JJ's outburst. Sarah is the first to speak, her voice gentle but firm. "JJ, that's enough." She moves from her perch on John B's chair, positioning herself between JJ and the rest of the group.

Your hands are shaking as you stand up, your voice quiet but steady. "You want to do this now? Fine." You take a step forward, ignoring Pope's attempt to grab your arm. "You think you're the only one who was hurt? You think you're the only one who was fucked up?" Your voice rises slightly, years of pent-up emotion breaking through. "I didn't just 'fuck off' to Maine for fun, JJ. I went because the alternative was being lowered into the ground in a fucking coffin!"

Kiara stands up too, torn between her boyfriend and her old friend. "Y/N, maybe we should-"

"No, Kie," you cut her off, your eyes locked on JJ. "He wants to talk about being fragile? About letting me win? At least I'm trying to get better. What are you doing, JJ? Getting drunk and picking fights? Real fucking healthy."

John B moves to intervene, but Pope holds him back, shaking his head. This has been brewing since the moment you walked through the door.

"You know what the difference is between us?" You continue, your voice cracking. "I admit I'm broken. I went and got help because I was tired of hurting everyone around me. But you?" You let out a hollow laugh. "You're still that same scared little boy, hiding behind your anger and your booze because god forbid anyone see that you're hurting too. You’re acting just like your daddy.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, the room erupts into chaos. JJ's beer bottle shatters in his hand as he lunges forward. "Don't you fucking DARE!" as John B and Pope rush to grab him. His muscles strain against their hold. "You don't get to say that shit! You don't get to fucking compare me to him!"

"JJ, stop!" Kiara shouts, but he's beyond hearing. His blue eyes are wild, unfocused, filled with a pain so deep it makes everyone in the room flinch. "You want to talk about being broken?" JJ spits, still fighting against John B and Pope's restraining arms. "At least I didn't run away! At least I stayed and faced my shit instead of leaving everyone wondering if you were even fucking alive!" His voice cracks on the last word, raw emotion bleeding through the anger. "Do you know how many times I drove by your house? How many nights I sat outside your window hoping you'd just... fuck!" 

 "Where the fuck was all this concern for mental health when I was showing up at your window covered in bruises? When I was sleeping on the beach because I was too scared to go home?" Blood continues to drip from his hand, creating a small puddle on the floor.

"You know what's really fucking funny?" JJ continues, his voice cracking. "The day you left? I was gonna tell you everything. About my dad, about how fucked up I was, about how you were the only person who made me feel like maybe I wasn't completely worthless." His words are like bullets, each one aimed to hit where it hurts most.

"Bro, calm down," John B grunts, struggling to maintain his grip. "This isn't helping-"

"Helping?" JJ lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "Nothing helps! Nothing fucking helps because she LEFT!" He finally breaks free, stumbling forward but not advancing towards you. Instead, he stands there, chest heaving, looking more vulnerable than any of them has ever seen him. "You left," he repeats, quieter now, his voice thick with unshed tears. "You left and I couldn't... I couldn't fucking breathe. And now you're back and I still can't breathe and I..." He runs his hands through his hair violently, turning away from everyone.

Pope steps forward cautiously. "JJ, maybe we should-"

"Don't," JJ cuts him off, his voice dangerous again. "Just... don't." He grabs his keys from the counter, ignoring Kiara's protests. "I need to get the fuck out of here before I..." He doesn't finish the sentence, just storms out, the screen door slamming behind him. The sound of his motorcycle roaring to life fills the night air moments later.

The room falls into a heavy silence after JJ's dramatic exit. You stand frozen, your whole body trembling as tears finally spill down your cheeks. Sarah is the first to move, wrapping her arms around you as you begin to sob.

"I didn't mean..." you choke out between sobs. "I didn't mean to say that about his dad. I just... I was so angry and..." You collapse onto the couch, Sarah still holding you while Kiara paces anxiously by the door.

"Someone needs to go after him," Kiara says, grabbing her jacket. "He's drunk and upset, he shouldn't be on that bike." She looks torn between staying with you and chasing after her boyfriend.

John B runs a hand through his hair, exchanging worried looks with Pope. "I'll go," he says, grabbing his keys. "Pope, you stay here with them. Sarah, can you...?" He gestures at you, who's still crying into Sarah's shoulder.

"I got her," Sarah assures him. "Just... bring him back in one piece, okay?"

Pope starts cleaning up the broken glass, his movements careful and methodical. "You know," he says quietly, "JJ never told anyone this, but he used to sleep in your treehouse after you left. We'd find him up there some mornings, usually after really bad nights with his dad."

"He kept your bracelet too," Kiara adds softly, still hovering by the door. "The one you made him at that bonfire. Wears it under his watch sometimes." She pauses, conflict clear on her face. "I should go with John B-"

"No," you say, wiping your eyes. "Stay. Please. I... I need to tell you all something. About why I really left." You take a shaky breath, looking around at your friends - the family you left behind. "It wasn't just the self-harm or the suicide attempt. There was... there was more. And JJ... he deserves to know the truth. You all do."

Sarah squeezes your hand encouragingly while Pope settles on the floor in front of you. The sound of the Twinkie starting up outside fills the momentary silence.

"Take your time," Sarah says gently. "We're listening." 

John B finds JJ at their usual spot - the abandoned dock near the marsh where they used to fish as kids. JJ's sitting at the edge, legs dangling over the water, a fresh beer in his hand that he definitely grabbed from his emergency stash hidden in the old boat nearby. His motorcycle is parked haphazardly in the grass, still ticking as it cools down.

"Figured I'd find you here," John B says, settling down next to his best friend. The moonlight reflects off the water, casting everything in a silvery glow. "That was quite a show back there, bro."

JJ takes a long pull from his beer, his knuckles still bloody from the broken bottle. "Fuck off, John B," he mutters, but there's no real heat behind it. His hands are shaking slightly as he brings the bottle back to his lips. "I don't need another fucking lecture about controlling my temper or whatever shit you're about to say."

"Actually," John B says, pulling out two fresh beers from his pocket and handing one to JJ, "I was gonna say she had no right bringing up your dad." He cracks open his beer, the sound echoing across the quiet marsh. "That was fucked up."

JJ lets out a hollow laugh, running his uninjured hand through his messy hair. "You know what's fucked up? She's right." His voice cracks slightly. "I am turning into him. Getting drunk, breaking shit, can't control my fucking temper..." He throws his empty bottle into the water with force, watching it disappear beneath the dark surface.

"Nah, man," John B shakes his head firmly. "You're nothing like Luke. You know how I know?" He waits until JJ looks at him. "Because you care. Like, actually give a shit about people. Luke never did." He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. "And you loved her. Still do, probably."

"Doesn't fucking matter now, does it?" JJ's voice is rough with emotion. "I'm with Kie. And Y/N... she's..." he trails off, unable to finish the sentence. The crickets chirp in the silence that follows, the marsh grass swaying in the gentle breeze.

"You know," John B says after a while, "Kie knows. Has known for a while, I think. About how you feel about Y/N." He takes another sip of his beer. "Maybe that's why she's been so... I don't know, different lately?"

JJ's head snaps up, his blue eyes wide in the moonlight. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Come on, bro," John B sighs. "You've been wearing that bracelet under your watch since the day Y/N left. You sleep in her old treehouse when shit gets bad. And the way you looked at her tonight... that wasn't just anger, man."

JJ stares out at the dark water, his jaw working as he processes John B's words. "It's not..." he starts, then stops, taking a long drink. "Fuck, man." The moonlight catches the silver threads in his shark tooth necklace as he shifts uncomfortably. "You can't just say shit like that about me and Kie."

"Why not?" John B presses, watching his best friend carefully. "Because it's true? Because you've been trying so hard to convince yourself that what you have with Kie is enough?" He dodges the empty beer can JJ throws at his head with practiced ease. "I love Kie, man. We all do. But she deserves better than being someone's second choice."

"You think I don't know that?" JJ explodes, jumping to his feet. He paces the dock, his shoes making the old wood creak. "You think I don't fucking hate myself for it? For not being able to..." he trails off, running both hands through his hair in frustration. "Y/N left, John B. She fucking left without a word and Kie... Kie was there. She picked up the pieces. She..."

"She's not Y/N," John B finishes quietly. The words hang in the humid night air, heavy with truth. "And that's not fair to any of you."

JJ stops pacing, bracing himself against one of the dock posts. His knuckles are white where they grip the wood, blood from his earlier injury leaving dark smears. "You should've seen her that night," he says so quietly John B almost misses it. "The night before she left. She came to my window like she always did when shit got bad. But something was different. She wouldn't look at me, wouldn't let me touch her. Just kept saying she was sorry." His voice cracks. "I should've known. Should've fucking done something."

"JJ..." John B starts, but JJ cuts him off.

"And now she's back," he continues, his voice rough. "She's back and she's wearing that fucking perfume that makes my head spin, and she's got these new scars I don't know the stories too, and she's looking at me like... like..." He slams his fist into the post, adding fresh splinters to his already injured hand. "Like I'm still that stupid kid who couldn't save her. How I didn't see how bad it was getting. How I was so caught up in my shit with my dad that I missed all the signs." He runs his hands through his hair roughly. "And you know what the worst part is? Even after everything, even with Kie... I still..." He can't finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to.

The marsh is quiet except for the gentle lapping of water against the dock and the distant sound of a boat horn. John B watches as his best friend falls apart, knowing there's nothing he can say to make this better. "Maybe," he finally suggests, "you should talk to Kie. Like, really talk to her. And then..." he hesitates. "Maybe you should talk to Y/N too. About everything."

JJ lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah? And say what? 'Sorry, I just had a fucking meltdown in front of everyone because seeing you still makes me feel like I'm drowning'? 'Sorry, I'm such a fuck up I couldn't even move on properly'?" He slides down to sit on the dock again, his energy seemingly drained. "Nah, man. Some things are better left buried."

The two make their way to the van it rumbles down the dark road, headlights cutting through the night as John B glances worriedly at JJ in the passenger seat. JJ is slumped against the window, his breath fogging up the glass, the streetlights casting intermittent shadows across his face. His bloody knuckles rest in his lap, the makeshift bandage John B made from his t-shirt already soaking through.

"Your dad's been better lately, right?" John B asks cautiously, turning onto JJ's street. "Like, with the new job and everything?" He knows these periods of calm with Luke are temporary, like the eye of a hurricane - peaceful until it's not.

JJ lets out a laugh, his eyes still fixed on the passing shadows outside. "Yeah, for now. Give it a week, maybe two if we're lucky." His voice is tired, drained of its usual energy. "He's actually buying groceries instead of beer. Fucking miracle, right?" The sarcasm in his voice is thick enough to cut.

As they pull up to JJ's house, they can see Luke's truck in the driveway, the porch light on - a rare sight. Through the window, they can see him moving around in the kitchen, looking almost normal, almost like a real father. "You sure you don't want to crash at my place?" John B offers, killing the engine. "Sarah won't mind, and you know Pope's probably got Y/N calmed down by now..."

"Don't," JJ warns, his voice sharp. "Just... don't say her name right now, okay?" He runs his uninjured hand through his hair, a nervous habit that's become more frequent since your return. "I can't... I can't think about that shit right now. About what she said, about Kie, about..." he trails off, shaking his head.

The front door opens, and Luke steps onto the porch. "JJ? That you, son?" His voice carries across the yard, lacking its usual angry slur. "Got some leftovers if you're hungry. Made that fish you like." The attempt at normalcy is almost more unsettling than his usual violence.

"Fuck," JJ mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Look at him, playing father of the year." He grabs his backpack from the backseat, wincing as the movement jars his injured hand. "Thanks for the ride, bro. And for..." he gestures vaguely, encompassing everything that happened at the dock.

"JJ," John B calls as his friend opens the door. "Just... be careful, okay? And if shit goes south..." He doesn't need to finish the sentence. They both know JJ's always got a place at the Chateau.

"Yeah, yeah," JJ forces a grin that doesn't reach his eyes. "Save the emotional shit for Sarah, man." He slams the van door, shouldering his backpack as he heads toward the house. Each step feels heavy like he's walking through water. The weight of everything - your return, his relationship with Kiara, his dad's temporary stability - sits on his shoulders like a physical burden.

Luke's waiting at the door, and for once, his eyes are clear. "Rough night?" he asks, noticing JJ's bandaged hand. There's genuine concern in his voice, the kind that makes JJ's chest ache because he knows it won't last.

He follows his father into the house, the familiar scent of fried fish and something else - hope, maybe? - filling the air. The kitchen is cleaner than he's seen it in years, dishes are actually washed and put away, no empty bottles littering the counters. It's like walking into a funhouse mirror version of his life, everything familiar but slightly wrong.

"Sit," Luke gestures to the table, already moving to reheat the food. "Got paid today. Foreman says I'm doing good work." There's pride in his voice, the kind JJ used to dream of hearing when he was younger. "Even got you something." He pulls out a small package from one of the kitchen drawers, sliding it across the table.

JJ stares at the package like it might bite him, his injured hand throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat. "Dad, you didn't have to..." he starts, but Luke waves him off.

"Open it," Luke insists, putting a plate of steaming fish and rice in front of JJ. "Saw it at the store, thought of you." His voice is gruff with emotion he doesn't know how to express.

With trembling fingers, JJ unwraps the package. Inside is a new surf wax and a professional-grade fishing lure - the expensive kind they used to admire together in the shop window when JJ was little. "This is..." he swallows hard, something thick and painful lodging in his throat.

"For the competition tomorrow," Luke explains, sitting down across from him with his own plate. "Figured you could use some good gear." He pauses, studying JJ's face. "Your hand gonna be okay to surf?"

JJ flexes his fingers experimentally, wincing. "Yeah, it's fine. Just some scratches." He doesn't mention how he got them, and Luke doesn't ask. Some things are better left unsaid, even in this temporary peace.

They eat in relative silence, the only sounds are the scrape of forks against plates and the distant hum of crickets outside. JJ can't help but wait for the other shoe to drop, for his father to notice the alcohol on his breath, or ask why he came home so late. But Luke just keeps eating, occasionally glancing at JJ with something that looks almost like concern.

"Y/N’s back," Luke says suddenly, making JJ choke on his rice. "Saw her at the store today. She's grown up nice." He says it casually, like he doesn't know the weight those words carry like he doesn't remember the nights JJ came home drunk and broken after you left.

JJ's grip on his fork tightens, his knuckles white. "Dad..." he warns, but Luke continues.

"You know, I never told you this," Luke sets down his fork, his voice unusually serious. "But that girl... she used to come by sometimes when you were out. Would bring groceries, say she was just dropping off extras her mom bought." He lets out a dry laugh. "We both knew she was lying. She was checking on you, making sure I hadn't..." he trails off, shame coloring his voice.

The revelation hits JJ like a physical blow. He pushes back from the table, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I can't... I can't do this right now," he manages to say, his voice rough. "Thanks for dinner. And the..." he gestures at the gifts, unable to finish.

Luke nods, understanding in his eyes that hurts worse than any punch he's ever thrown. "Get some rest, son. Big day tomorrow." He watches as JJ practically flees to his room, the sound of his door closing echoing through the unusually quiet house.

In his room, JJ collapses onto his bed. The surf wax and lure sit on his nightstand, mocking him with their newness, their promise of a father he's always wanted but never quite had. He pulls out his phone, seeing missed calls from Kiara and texts from the group chat. But it's his wallpaper that catches his eye - still that old photo of him and you at the beach, your smile bright and real, his arm around your shoulders. He'd never changed it, not even after starting things with Kiara.

"Fuck," he whispers into the darkness, throwing his arm over his eyes. Tomorrow's competition suddenly seems like the least of his problems.

JJ is hunched over his surfboard on the front porch, a half-eaten piece of toast dangling from his mouth as he meticulously applies the new wax his father gave him. The morning sun casts long shadows across the worn wood of the porch, the air already thick with humidity. His injured hand throbs as he works, the makeshift bandage John B wrapped it in last night now stained and fraying.

The knock makes him jump, nearly dropping the wax block. "It's open!" he calls out, not looking up from his work. He knows it's Kiara before she even speaks - recognizes the pattern of her footsteps, the jingle of the shell anklet she always wears.

"Hey," Kiara's voice is soft and cautious. She's wearing her competition bikini under a loose tank top, her curly hair pulled back in a messy bun. "You weren't answering your phone." She settles down next to him on the porch steps, close but not touching - a careful distance that speaks volumes.

JJ continues working on his board, his movements perhaps more aggressive than necessary. "Yeah, well, been kind of busy." He gestures at the board with his injured hand, causing Kiara to suck in a sharp breath at the sight of his knuckles.

"Jesus, JJ," she reaches for his hand but he pulls away, standing up abruptly. "We need to talk about last night-"

"No," JJ cuts her off, running his good hand through his already messy hair. "We really don't. I fucked up, lost my temper, same old shit. Can we just..." he trails off, finally looking at her. The concern in her eyes makes his stomach twist with guilt.

Kiara stands too, crossing her arms. "Y/N told us everything last night," she says quietly. "After you left. About why she really went away." She watches as JJ's entire body tenses, his jaw clenching. "JJ, it wasn't just about the self-harm and the attempt. She was-"

"Stop," JJ's voice is sharp, dangerous. He turns away from her, gripping the porch railing so hard his knuckles turn white. "I don't want to know. I can't... I can't hear that shit right now. Not before the competition."

"You can't keep running from this," Kiara says, her voice stronger now. "And you can't keep pretending that what we have is..." she stops, taking a deep breath. "I see the way you look at her, JJ. I've always seen it. Even when you're angry at her, even when you're with me, you look at her like... like she's the sun and you're drowning in her light."

JJ lets out a bitter laugh, turning back to face her. "That's some poetic shit, Kie." But there's no humor in his voice, just pain and exhaustion. "What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? That I'm a fucking mess who can't get his shit together? That I-"

"I want you to be honest," Kiara interrupts. "With me, with yourself, with her." She steps closer, reaching up to touch his face gently. "We both knew this wasn't forever, JJ. We were just... holding each other together until something better came along."

"You deserve better than that," JJ says quietly, leaning into her touch despite himself. "Better than me using you as a bandaid for my fucked up heart."

Kiara smiles sadly. "Yeah, I do. And so do you." She drops her hand, stepping back. "The competition starts soon. Y/N’s entering too, by the way. JJ? She still wears that shell necklace you made her. Never took it off, even in Maine."

The information hits JJ like a physical blow, making him grip the railing tighter. The surf wax sits abandoned on his board, the morning sun turning it soft and sticky. JJ sighs heavily, sliding down to sit on the porch steps. The morning sun continues to rise, casting long shadows across the yard where weeds push through cracked concrete - a perfect metaphor for their relationship, beautiful things growing in broken places.

"You're not mad?" JJ asks finally, his voice rough. He picks at the fraying bandage on his hand, avoiding her eyes. "About... everything?"

Kiara lets out a soft laugh sitting back down next to him bumping his shoulder with hers. "I mean, I probably should be. But honestly?" She tilts her face toward the sun, closing her eyes. "I think I've known since the beginning. We were both just... trying to fill empty spaces."

JJ runs his good hand through his hair, a nervous habit he can't shake. "You're too good for this shit, Kie. Too good for me and my fucked up baggage." He glances at her sideways. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know," Kiara says simply. "And hey, at least we had some good times, right?" She grins at him, that familiar sparkle in her eyes. "Like that time we got caught skinny dipping at the country club pool?"

"Fuck," JJ laughs despite himself, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Your dad's face when he found us... thought he was gonna have a stroke." The memory feels lighter now, less weighted with guilt.

They sit in comfortable silence for a moment. Finally, Kiara speaks again, her voice gentle but firm. "You need to talk to her, JJ. Like, really talk to her. No yelling, no running away."

JJ's jaw tightens. "Kie..."

"No, listen," she cuts him off. "What she told us last night... it changes things. And you deserve to know." She stands up, brushing off her shorts. "But first, you need to kick Topper's ass in this competition. Show him that pogues rule the waves, right?"

JJ looks up at her, gratitude and affection washing over him. "How are you so fucking cool about all this?"

Kiara shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. "Because I love you both, you idiot. Just... not in the way we've been pretending." She starts walking backward toward her car. "See you at the beach. And JJ?" She pauses. "Whatever Y/N told us last night? It's not my story to tell. But when she does tell you... just remember she never stopped loving you either."

JJ watches her drive away, his heart feeling both lighter and heavier at the same time. He turns back to his surfboard, running his fingers over the fresh wax. The competition starts soon, and somewhere on that beach, you’ll be there. The thought makes his stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with pre-competition nerves.

The beach is alive with pre-competition energy, the morning sun casting long shadows across the sand as spectators and competitors mill about. The group has claimed your usual spot, a patch of sand near the judges' stand where you're spread out with blankets and coolers. The air smells of salt spray and sunscreen, mixed with the distant scent of food vendors setting up their stalls.

JJ sits cross-legged next to Pope, obsessively checking the fins on his board while stealing glances at you. His injured hand is wrapped in fresh bandages - Pope's handiwork from earlier that morning. "You think the swell's gonna hold?" he asks Pope, his voice tighter than usual. "Weather report said it might pick up around noon."

"Dude, stop stressing," Pope replies, not looking up from his phone where he's tracking the wind patterns. "You could surf these waves in your sleep." He pauses, glancing at his friend. "Though maybe focus more on the waves and less on staring at Y/N every five seconds?"

A few feet away, Kiara and you sit huddled over your board, your heads close together as you work on the design. "Pass me the blue paint?" Kiara asks, her voice carefully casual. "I think it'll pop against the white."

"Here," You hand over the paint pen, your finger steady as you work on your own section of the board. "Thanks for helping me with this, Kie. I know it's... weird."

Sarah's voice carries over from where she's practically sitting in John B's lap, her laugh bright in the morning air. "John B, I swear to God, if you get any more sunscreen in my hair..." She squirms as he deliberately rubs more lotion on her neck.

"What? I'm being helpful!" John B protests, grinning. "Can't have my girl turning into a lobster." He catches JJ's eye and makes an exaggerated kissing face, earning himself a handful of sand thrown his way.

"Get a room, you two," Pope groans, but there's affection in his voice. "Some of us are trying to focus here."

"Yeah, focus on what?" JJ snaps, more harshly than intended. "The competition doesn't start for another hour." His eyes drift back to you, watching as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear - a gesture so familiar it makes his chest ache.

"Speaking of the competition," Sarah pipes up, clearly trying to diffuse the tension, "heard Topper's been practicing his aerial moves. Might actually give you a run for your money this time, JJ."

"Please," JJ scoffs, his trademark cockiness returning. "Trust fund baby probably had to pay someone to teach him which end of the board goes in front." But his bravado falters when he catches you hiding a smile at his comment.

"The waves are looking good though," you offer quietly, your first direct contribution to the group conversation. "Nice clean sets coming in." Your voice carries over the beach noise, making JJ's hands still on his board.

The group falls into a loaded silence, everyone pretending not to notice the way JJ and you carefully avoid looking at each other, or how Kiara's shoulders relax slightly when JJ doesn't snap back with a sarcastic comment.

"Alright, enough of this weird energy," Pope announces, standing up and brushing sand off his shorts. "Who wants to help me get drinks from the vendor? We've got..." he checks his watch, "forty-five minutes to get JJ properly hydrated before he has to show these kooks how it's done."

"Let me help," Sarah jumps up, linking her arm through Pope's. "John B, Y/N, you coming?" There's a pointed look in her eyes that everyone pretends not to notice.

"I'm good," You reply, still focused on your board design. "Need to finish this before the competition starts." Your fingers trace the intricate pattern you and Kiara have created - waves and stars intertwining across the white surface.

"Me too," John B replies, stretching out on their blanket. "Someone's gotta make sure these two don't kill each other." He gestures vaguely between JJ and you, earning himself a glare from both of you.

Kiara looks up from the surfboard, her hands covered in paint. "Get me one of those açai bowls if they have them?" she calls after Pope and Sarah. "And maybe some water for everyone? It's getting hot out here."

As Pope and Sarah head toward the vendors, the remaining group falls into an awkward silence. JJ continues fidgeting with his board, though there's nothing left to adjust. The morning sun beats down on you, the humidity making everything feel sticky and tense. The beach is getting more crowded now, the excitement building as more competitors arrive with their boards.

"Your hand looks better," You say suddenly, your voice soft but carrying clearly over the beach noise. You're still focused on your board, not looking up, but your fingers have stilled on the paint pen.

JJ flexes his injured hand unconsciously. "Yeah, well, Pope's got practice wrapping shit up. Comes with being friends with a walking disaster." He tries for his usual sarcastic tone but it falls flat.

"Remember that time you tried to do a backflip off the pier?" John B interjects, clearly trying to ease the tension. "Pope had to use an entire first aid kit on your stupid ass."

"That was one time," JJ protests, a genuine smile finally cracking through his facade. "And I totally would've landed it if that jellyfish hadn't been in the way."

"There was no jellyfish," Kiara laughs, rolling her eyes. "You just chickened out halfway through."

"I did not!" JJ's voice rises indignantly. "Tell them, Y/N/N, you were there-" He cuts himself off abruptly, realizing he'd used your old nickname without thinking.

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the distant sound of waves and other competitors warming up. Your hand has started trembling slightly, though you try to hide it by gripping the paint pen tighter.

"There definitely wasn't a jellyfish," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. "But there was that group of tourist girls watching, and you were trying to show off..."

"Classic JJ," John B jumps in, trying to keep the conversation flowing. "Always trying to impress the ladies with his 'sick moves.'" He makes air quotes with his fingers.

The moment breaks when someone calls out "Maybank!" from down the beach. It's one of the competition organizers, clipboard in hand. "You're up in heat three, twenty minutes!"

"Shit," JJ mutters, standing up and grabbing his board. "I should probably warm up or whatever." He pauses, looking down at your board. "The design's good," he says quietly, before quickly adding, "Both of you. It's... yeah." He turns and jogs toward the water, his board under his arm.

"Well, that was almost a normal conversation," John B observes, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Kiara. "What? I'm just saying..."

"I should warm up too," You say suddenly, standing and picking up your board. The morning sun catches the shell necklace around your neck - the one JJ made you years ago - making it gleam.

"Want company?" Kiara offers, but you shake your head.

"I need to..." you gesture vaguely toward the opposite end of the beach from where JJ went. "You know."

They watch as you walk away, your hair blowing in the ocean breeze. John B wraps an arm around Kiara's shoulders. "They'll figure it out," he says confidently. "They always do."

"Yeah," Kiara agrees, leaning into him. "But how many hearts are gonna get broken in the process?"

The question hangs in the air as they watch you two paddle out into the waves from opposite ends of the beach, like magnets simultaneously attracting and repelling each other. The waves crash against the shore as the competition gets underway, the beach packed with spectators cheering from the sand. The morning sun glints off the water, creating perfect conditions for the surfers waiting in the lineup. JJ sits on his board, straddling it as he watches the sets roll in, his injured hand gripping the rails slightly tighter than necessary. He's in heat three, along with you and Kiara, a cruel twist of fate that has his stomach in knots.

From the beach, John B's voice carries over the crowd. "Let's go, JJ! Show these kooks how it's done!" Sarah and Pope join in with their cheers, their enthusiasm infectious enough to draw smiles from other spectators.

JJ catches sight of you about twenty yards to his left, the shell necklace he made you glints in the sun. You're focused on the horizon, reading the waves with an intensity he remembers well from your late-night surfing sessions years ago. Kiara floats between you two, creating a triangle formation in the water, her presence both a buffer and a reminder of everything that's changed.

"First wave of heat three!" the announcer's voice booms over the speakers. "Riders, get ready!"

A set approaches and JJ feels the familiar surge of adrenaline. He watches as you turn your board, positioning yourself for the wave. Your form is different now - more refined, more confident. You catch the wave with practiced ease, your movement fluid as you drop in. The crowd cheers as you execute a perfect bottom turn, spraying water in an arc that catches the sunlight.

"Fuck," JJ mutters under his breath, both impressed and frustrated. He spots his own wave approaching, bigger than yours, and paddles hard. As he pops up, everything else fades away - the crowd, the competition, the complicated mess of emotions. It's just him and the wave, the way it's always been. He drives hard off the bottom, launching into an aerial that has the crowd screaming. His injured hand protests as he grabs his rail, but he sticks the landing, finishing with a powerful snap off the lip.

Kiara catches the next wave, her style more aggressive than yours but equally skilled. She shoots JJ a quick smile as she paddles back out, no trace of their earlier conversation in her expression. You're all competitors now, regardless of your personal drama.

The heat continues, each rider pushing themselves harder with each wave. JJ finds himself watching you more than he should, noticing how you’ve incorporated new techniques into your surfing. There's a grace to your movements that wasn't there before, a confidence that makes his chest tight with something between pride and regret.

From the beach, Pope's voice cuts through the crowd noise: "Time check! Two minutes left in the heat!"

JJ sits up straighter on his board, scanning for one last good wave. He needs something big to secure his spot in the finals. A set approaches, and he can see both you and Kiara eyeing it too. It's the kind of wave you used to fight over during your dawn patrol sessions - clean, powerful, perfect for showing off.

The tension in the water is palpable as you all turn toward shore, ready to battle for position. JJ glances at you, catching your eye for the first time since you paddled out. For a moment, it's like nothing has changed - you're just two kids from the Cut, living for the next wave. Then the moment breaks as the announcer's voice booms: "Final wave of heat three approaching! Who's gonna take it?"

The tension crackles through the air as all three surfers eye the approaching wave. JJ's muscles tense as he prepares to paddle, but suddenly you make your move first, cutting across his line with precise timing. You catch the wave perfectly, popping up with fluid grace that makes the crowd gasp.

"Holy shit!" John B's voice carries over the noise as you drop into the face of the wave. Your form is flawless, body low and controlled as you set up for your first maneuver. 

JJ can't help but watch, even as he and Kiara paddle back to position. You carve up the face of the wave, your movements more aggressive than before, spraying water in an arc that catches the sunlight. You transition into a series of snaps that have the judges leaning forward in their seats, before setting up for your finale.

"No fucking way," JJ mutters, recognizing the setup. It's a move you used to practice together, late at night when the beach was empty - a risky aerial that you’d perfected during those endless summer sessions. You launch off the lip, grabbing your rail and rotating in a way that seems to defy gravity. The landing is clean, and precise, sending another spray of water toward the sky as the crowd erupts.

"That's my girl!" Sarah screams from the beach, jumping up and down while clutching John B's arm. Pope's got his phone out, recording everything while shouting his own encouragement.

As you paddle back out, JJ catches your eye again. There's something different in your expression now - a mix of pride, challenge, and something else he can't quite read. Kiara paddles up beside him, a knowing look on her face.

"Damn," Kiara whistles low. "She's been practicing."

"Time!" The announcer's voice booms across the water. "Heat three is complete! Riders, return to shore for scoring."

The paddle back is quiet, each lost in your own thoughts as the judges figure out scores. JJ can feel the energy on the beach, knowing without looking that your last wave changed everything. As you hit the shallows, John B and Pope rush out to help with your boards.

"That was fucking insane!" John B exclaims, grabbing your board. "When did you learn to fly?"

You push your wet hair back, that shell necklace still somehow perfectly in place. "Maine has waves too," you say quietly, but your eyes flick to JJ as you say it. "Different, but good for practicing."

"Attention competitors," the announcer's voice cuts through their conversation. "Scores for heat three are ready..."

The group falls silent, tension building as you wait for the results. JJ finds himself holding his breath, his injured hand throbbing. The morning sun is high now, turning the ocean into a field of diamonds, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers teaching you that aerial on a night just like this, under a full moon with no one else around.

The announcer's voice crackles over the speakers: "In third place, with a score of 8.7 - Kiara Carrera!"

Kiara grins, accepting high-fives from the group. "Not bad for a warmup," she says, squeezing water from her hair. Her eyes dart between JJ and you, anticipating what comes next.

"In second place, with a score of 9.2..." The pause feels endless, "JJ Maybank!"

JJ's jaw tightens, his fingers flexing around his board. He knows what's coming, and can feel it in the electric tension running through their little group. Pope claps him on the shoulder, but he barely feels it.

"And taking first place in heat three, with a score of 9.8 - Y/N L/N! That final aerial was something else, folks!"

The beach erupts in cheers, but JJ's focused on your face - the way your eyes widen in surprise, the slight tremor in your hands as Sarah pulls you into a crushing hug. You look exactly like you did years ago when you landed your first aerial under his guidance.

"Holy shit, Y/N!" John B whoops, lifting you off your feet in celebration. "That was fucking incredible!"

"All riders advancing to the finals, please check the board for heat assignments," the announcer continues. "Thirty-minute break before the next round."

JJ watches as they swarm you with congratulations, his emotions a tangled mess he can't sort through. Pride, jealousy, regret, and something deeper, something that feels like the undertow that used to drag you both out during night sessions.

"You taught her that aerial," Kiara says quietly beside him, her voice carrying a knowing tone. "I remember watching you two practice it for weeks."

Before JJ can respond, you break away from the group, approaching them with hesitant steps. You're holding something in your hand - his old surf wax, the one he'd always let you borrow during your sessions.

"Found this in my bag this morning," you say, your voice barely audible over the beach noise. "Thought you might want it back." Your finger brushes his as you hand it over, sending a jolt through his system that has nothing to do with the competition.

"Keep it," he finds himself saying, his voice rougher than intended. "Looks like you're putting it to better use anyway." He tries to make it sound casual, but there's too much history in those words, too many memories of dawn patrols and midnight sessions and promises made under starlit skies.

The moment stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words, until Pope's voice breaks through: "Guys! They're posting the final heat assignments!"

The group moves toward the bulletin board, but JJ hangs back, watching you walk away. The shell necklace catches the light again, and he remembers making it for you on this very beach, his fingers working the knots while you talked about constellations and dreams and futures that seemed possible then.

"You okay?" Kiara asks, lingering beside him.

"Yeah," JJ lies, running a hand through his salt-stiffened hair. "Just... fuck." He doesn't need to finish the sentence. Kiara understands - she always has.

The finals loom ahead, but all JJ can think about is that aerial, and how your form was exactly the same as when he first taught it to you, right down to the way you point your toes during the rotation. Some things, it seems, don't change - even when everything else does.

The beach is winding down as the sun begins its descent, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks. The competition crowd has thinned, leaving behind only the most dedicated spectators and the Pogues, who are sprawled out on their blankets celebrating their friends' success. JJ, you, and Kiara stand together on the podium, your medals glinting in the late afternoon light.

"Third place, Kiara Carrera!" The announcer's voice booms one final time. Kiara grins, holding up her bronze medal as Sarah and John B whoop and holler from the crowd.

"Second place, Y/N L/N!" You step forward, accepting your silver medal with a small smile. The shell necklace around your neck catches the light, drawing JJ's attention momentarily.

"And your first-place winner, JJ Maybank!" The crowd erupts as JJ accepts his gold medal, his signature cocky grin in place despite the storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. His final wave had been spectacular - a combination of raw power and technical skill that even the most critical judges couldn't deny.

As you step down from the podium, Pope approaches with a cooler. "Time to celebrate properly!" he announces, pulling out beers for everyone. The group gravitates toward your usual spot on the beach, away from the dispersing crowd.

"To the most talented pogues in the OBX!" John B raises his beer, his other arm wrapped around Sarah's waist. "And to Kiara for not killing JJ when he snake dropped her wave in the finals!"

"Hey!" JJ protests, but he's laughing. "All's fair in love and surfing, right?" The words hang in the air for a moment, loaded with meaning as his eyes unconsciously drift to you.

"That last aerial though," Pope interjects, sensing the tension. "Thought you were gonna break your neck, JJ."

"Please," JJ scoffs, taking a long drink from his beer. "That was nothing compared to the shit we used to pull during night sessions." He freezes slightly, realizing what he's said, and who he's referencing.

You shift beside him, your silver medal catching the dying light. "Remember that time we tried to surf during a lightning storm?" You say quietly, surprising everyone. "John B had to come to rescue us in the Twinkie."

"Jesus," Sarah laughs, but her eyes are watchful. "You two were always doing crazy shit like that."

The group falls into a comfortable rhythm of storytelling and laughter, the competition tension slowly easing. JJ finds himself hyper-aware of your presence, the way you laugh at John B's terrible jokes, and how you unconsciously play with that shell necklace when you're thinking.

"You've improved," he says suddenly when the others are distracted by Pope's dramatic reenactment of a wipeout. "Your form, I mean. It's... different. Better."

You look at him, really look at him, for what feels like the first time since you’ve been back. "Had a good teacher," you reply softly, your fingers still toying with the necklace. "Some things you don't forget, even when you're trying to."

The weight of unspoken words hangs between you, heavy as storm clouds. Kiara watches you two from across the circle, a knowing look in her eyes as she catches JJ's gaze.

The Wreck is bustling with the usual dinner crowd, but Kiara's parents have reserved the back section for their celebration. The smell of fried shrimp and hush puppies fills the air as you pile around your favorite table, medals still hanging around the winners' necks. The sunset streams through the windows, casting everything in a warm golden glow.

JJ slouches in his chair, one arm draped over the back as he nurses his beer. His eyes keep drifting to you, who's sitting between Sarah and Pope, your hair still damp from the ocean. The shell necklace catches the light every time you move, a constant reminder of everything that's changed and everything that hasn't.

"Yo, check it out," John B nudges JJ, nodding toward the entrance where Topper and Rafe are making their way over. The entire table tenses slightly, years of rivalry making everyone wary.

"Hey," Topper says, stopping at their table. He looks different - less aggressive than usual, almost humble. "Just wanted to say... that was some sick surfing today. All of you." His eyes linger on you for a moment longer than necessary, making JJ's jaw clench.

Rafe, surprisingly sober, nods in agreement. "That move in the finals, Maybank? Pretty fucking impressive." He shifts uncomfortably, clearly not used to complimenting pogues. "And Y/N... didn't know you had moves like that."

"Thanks," you reply quietly, your fingers automatically going to the shell necklace. The gesture doesn't go unnoticed by anyone at the table, especially JJ.

"Yeah, well," JJ starts, his voice carrying an edge, but Kiara kicks him under the table. He swallows whatever sarcastic comment he is about to make. "Thanks, man. You weren't half bad either, Topper."

"Listen," Topper says, running a hand through his hair. "We're having a bonfire in Figure Eight tonight. Victory party kind of thing. You guys should come." The invitation hangs in the air, surprising everyone.

Sarah raises an eyebrow at her brother. "Rafe? You're okay with this?"

Rafe shrugs, looking almost uncomfortable. "New leaf and all that shit, right? Besides," he grins, some of his old cockiness returning, "can't let you pogues have all the fun."

The group exchanges looks, years of kook-pogue rivalry making them hesitant. It's Pope who finally speaks up. "Yeah, alright. Could be fun."

"Cool," Topper nods, already backing away. "Starts at nine. Bring whatever." He and Rafe head back to their table, leaving you in stunned silence.

"Did that just happen? Did we just have a civil conversation with Topper and Rafe?" Kiara says surprised.

"End times," Pope declares solemnly, making everyone laugh. "The apocalypse is definitely coming."

"Well, that was weird," John B says, voicing what everyone's thinking. "Think it's a trap?"

"Nah," Sarah shakes her head. "Topper's been different lately. And Rafe... well, rehab changed him. A little, anyway."

JJ snorts, taking another drink. "Still don't trust them." His eyes find you again. "You gonna go?"

The question feels heavier than it should, loaded with implications. You meet his gaze, something unreadable in your expression. "Maybe," you say softly. "Might be nice to see how the other half lives, right?"

The tension at the table shifts, everyone pretending not to notice the way JJ's grip tightens on his beer bottle, or how your fingers haven't left that shell necklace since Topper walked away.

"Well," Kiara stands up, ever the peacemaker, "if we're doing this, we should probably get more food first. Can't show up to a kook party on empty stomachs." She heads toward the kitchen, leaving the others to navigate the complicated dynamics at the table.

The bonfire casts dancing shadows across the beach as JJ stands near the water's edge, the sound of waves mixing with distant laughter and music from the kook party. He's already several beers in, trying to drown out the memories that keep surfacing every time he catches sight of you. The others have conspicuously disappeared - John B and Sarah wandering off toward the dunes, Pope getting caught up in some debate about marine biology with a group of college kids, and Kiara conveniently remembering she needed to help set up the speakers.

You approach quietly, your presence announced only by the soft crunch of sand under your feet. You’ve changed since dinner, wearing a loose white beach dress that catches the firelight, that damn shell necklace still around your neck. Without warning, you reach out and take his beer, replacing it with a bottle of water.

"The fuck, Y/N/N?" JJ protests, the nickname slipping out before he can stop it. His voice is rougher than usual, whether, from the alcohol or emotion, it's hard to tell.

"You've had enough," you say softly, but firmly. "And we both know you get mean when you drink too much." There's no judgment in your voice, just stated fact - you know him too well, even after all this time.

JJ runs a hand through his hair, agitation clear in every movement. "Yeah? And what makes you think you still get to make that call?" The words come out harsh, but he takes a drink from the water bottle anyway.

You settle into the sand, patting the spot next to you. After a moment's hesitation, JJ sits too, maintaining careful distance between you two. The fire casts an orange glow across your skin.

"Remember the last bonfire we were at together?" You ask suddenly, your voice barely audible over the waves. "Before... everything?"

JJ tenses beside you, his fingers digging into the sand. "Don't," he warns, but there's less bite in his voice now. "We're not doing this, Y/N."

"Aren't we?" You turn to look at him fully, the firelight reflecting in your eyes. "Because I think we've been doing this dance since I got back. Everyone sees it, JJ. Even Kiara-"

"Leave Kie out of this," he snaps, but you both know it's a weak protest. His hand unconsciously moves toward yours in the sand before he catches himself. The shell necklace gleams as you shift, drawing his attention. "You kept it," he says suddenly, nodding toward the necklace. "Even in Maine."

"Never took it off," you admit quietly. "Even when they..it was the only piece of home I had left. The only piece of you."

JJ's breath catches at your words, his fingers curling into fists in the sand. The firelight dances across your faces as the party continues behind you, but you might as well be alone on the beach. The sound of waves seems to grow louder, matching the thundering of his heart.

"You can't just..." he starts, his voice cracking.

"You can't just say shit like that, Y/N. Not after... not after everything."

You shift slightly closer, the hem of your white dress brushing against his leg. "Then what can I say, JJ? Because we need to talk about it. About that night. About why I really left." 

"Yeah?" JJ's voice turns sharp, defensive. "What's there to talk about? You made your choice. You left. End of fucking story." But his eyes betray him, constantly drawn to your face, to the necklace, to the way the firelight catches in your hair.

"It wasn't a choice," you say quietly, your voice trembling slightly. "My parents found the letters, JJ. The ones I wrote to you about... about everything. About your dad, about what we were planning..." You take a shaky breath. "About how much I loved you."

JJ's whole body goes rigid at your words. The water bottle crumples in his grip, forgotten. "Stop," he says, but it sounds more like a plea than a command. "Just... fuck, Y/N."

"You want to know why I really left?" You continue, your voice stronger now. "Because that night, after I left your house, after your dad..." you swallow hard. "After I saw what he did to you, I went home and wrote everything down. Every bruise I'd helped you hide, every night you climbed through my window bleeding, every time you flinched when someone moved too fast. I was going to turn him in, JJ. I couldn't watch him hurt you anymore."

The confession hangs in the air between you, heavy as storm clouds. JJ's breathing has become ragged, his jaw clenched so tight it must hurt. Behind you, someone cranks up the music, but it feels distant, muffled like you're underwater.

"My parents found the letters before I could do anything," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. "They read everything - about us, about your dad, about how we were planning to run away after graduation. They didn't give me a choice, JJ. It was either Maine or..." 

JJ stares at the water, his whole body vibrating with tension as he processes your words. The firelight catches the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, but he blinks them away furiously. His injured hand flexes in the sand, leaving small indentations that quickly fill with darkness.

"You were gonna..." he starts, his voice hoarse. "You were trying to protect me?" A bitter laugh escapes him. "Fuck, Y/N. I thought... all this time I thought you just couldn't handle my shit anymore. Thought you got tired of dealing with the fucked up pogue kid."

You shift closer, close enough that your shoulders brush. The contact sends electricity through both of you. "I could never get tired of you, JJ," you whisper, your voice catching. "Even in Maine, even when they had me so medicated I could barely remember my own name... I never stopped..."

"Don't," he cuts you off roughly, but he doesn't move away. "You can't just come back here and tell me all this shit. You can't just..." he runs his hand through his hair again, agitation clear in every movement. "Fuck, do you know what it did to me? Finding your room empty that morning? Your mom wouldn't tell me anything, just kept saying you were 'getting help' like you were some kind of..." he can't finish the sentence.

"I tried to call," you admit quietly. "That first month, I called your number every day until they took my phone. Left so many voicemails I filled up your inbox." You touch the shell necklace again, a habit he's starting to recognize as nervous comfort. "Did you... did you ever listen to them?"

"Every fucking one. Over and over until the system deleted them." He finally turns to look at you fully, his eyes intense in the firelight. "I still have that old phone. Can't bring myself to throw it away because it's got your last message saved."

The confession hangs between you, heavy with meaning. Behind you, the party continues, but you might as well be alone on the beach. The waves crash steadily, a rhythm you both know by heart from countless night sessions together.

"I kept every letter," You say softly. "The ones they wouldn't let me send. There's a whole box of them under my bed. Three years' worth of things I needed to tell you." Your hand moves unconsciously toward his in the sand, stopping just short of touching.

JJ stares at the ocean for a long moment, processing everything. The firelight dances across his features as he finally turns back to you, his expression raw and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen since that last night three years ago.

"Every time something good happened, or something shit happened, or just... anything happened, my first thought was always 'I gotta tell Y/N.' Then I'd remember you weren't there anymore." He lets out a shaky breath. "Took me almost a year to stop turning to tell you stuff."

Your hand finally bridges the gap between them, your fingers brushing against his in the sand. Neither of you pulls away. "I did the same thing," you admit. "In group therapy, they'd ask who we missed most from home. I'd always say my parents, but..." You touch the shell necklace with your free hand. "It was always you, JJ. Every single time."

JJ's thumb unconsciously strokes across your knuckles, a gesture so familiar it makes your heartache. "I can't..." He starts, his voice catching. "I can't go through losing you again, Y/N. I barely survived it the first time." The admission costs him, you can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tighten slightly against yours.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whisper, the words carrying on the ocean breeze. "Not this time. Not ever again." You turn your hand in the sand, properly lacing your fingers together. "I'm done running, JJ. From you, from us, from everything."

The silence that follows is heavy with possibility. Behind you, someone calls your names - probably Pope or Sarah looking for you - but neither moves. "We can't just pick up where we left off," JJ finally says, but he doesn't let go of your hand. "Too much has happened. We're different people now."

You nod, understanding in your eyes. "I know. But maybe..." you squeeze his hand gently. "Maybe we can start something new. Something better."

JJ looks at your intertwined hands, then back at your face - at the girl who's haunted his dreams for three years, who's sitting here now in the firelight wearing his necklace and holding his hand like you never left. "Yeah," he says softly, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. "Maybe we can."

The party continues behind you, but you stay there on the beach, hands linked, watching the waves and starting the long process of healing what was broken. It's not perfect, and it's not fixed, but it's a beginning. And sometimes, that's enough.

The moonlight streams through your bedroom window as you and JJ slip inside, your footsteps quiet on the hardwood floors. Your room looks different than JJ remembers - new paint, new decorations, but somehow still unmistakably you. The fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a soft glow over everything, creating shadows that dance across the walls.

JJ hovers near the door, hands shoved in his pockets as he watches you drop to your knees beside the bed. The fabric of your dress ghosting around your legs as you reach under the bed frame. His shell necklace catches the light as you move, making his chest tight with memories.

"It's here somewhere," You mutter, pushing aside boxes and old notebooks. "I kept everything organized when I moved back, but..." you trail off, stretching further under the bed. 

JJ forces himself to look away, focusing instead on the photos newly tacked to your wall. Most are recent - your time in Maine, new friends, new places. But there, in the corner, partially hidden behind others, he spots one that makes his breath catch. It's you two, three years ago, on the beach after a night session. His arm is around your shoulders, both of you grinning at the camera, saltwater still dripping from your hair.

"Found it!" Your voice pulls him back to the present. You emerge from under the bed with a large shoebox, worn at the edges and covered in doodles. Your hands shake slightly as you set it on the bed, looking up at JJ with uncertainty in your eyes.

"That's... all of them?" JJ asks, his voice rougher than intended. He takes a step closer, drawn by the box like a magnet. Three years of words you couldn't say, couldn't send, all contained in one shoebox.

You nod, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside the box. "Every letter I wrote. Every time I missed you, every time something reminded me of you, every time I..." you trail off, fingers tracing the edge of the box. "Every time I needed you to know I still loved you."

The admission hangs in the air between you, heavy with possibility. JJ moves closer, perching on the edge of the bed, careful to maintain some distance. The fairy lights cast soft shadows across your face as you open the box, revealing stacks of envelopes, some crisp and new, others worn from being handled repeatedly.

"You don't have to read them now," you say quickly, noticing how JJ's hands have started to shake. "I just... I needed you to know they existed. That I never stopped trying to reach you, even when I couldn't actually send them."

The tension breaks as he lets out a snort of laughter, picking up one of the envelopes. "Your handwriting still looks like shit, Y/N," he teases, falling easily back into your old dynamic. "Seriously, did they not teach penmanship in Maine?"

You gasp in mock offense, snatching the letter from his hands. "Excuse you, this is art." You fought back a smile though, relief evident in your features at his attempt to lighten the mood. "Not all of us can have perfect surfer boy handwriting."

"Perfect?" JJ grins, reaching for another letter. "Have you seen my grocery lists? Even Pope can't read them." He settles more comfortably on the bed, his earlier hesitation melting away. "Oh shit, this one's got little hearts drawn all over it. Fucking sap."

"Shut up," You laugh, shoving his shoulder playfully. "I was heavily medicated and missing your stupid face." You pull out another letter, this one covered in doodles of waves and surfboards. "Oh god, my therapy art phase. We don't talk about this one."

JJ snatches it before you can hide it, his eyes scanning the page with growing amusement. "Holy fuck, is that supposed to be me?" He points to a stick figure with spiky hair riding a wave. "My hair does not look like that!"

"It absolutely does when you first wake up," you argue, reaching for the letter. JJ holds it above his head, laughing as you try to grab it. "JJ Maybank, give that back!"

"Make me," he challenges, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. It feels like old times - him in your room, playfully arguing about nothing important, the weight of your earlier conversation temporarily lifted.

You lunge for the letter, causing you both to tumble backward onto your bed, letters scattering around you. JJ's still holding the drawing above his head, grinning as you try to reach it. "You're such an ass," you complain, but you're laughing too.

"Yeah, but you missed this ass," he quips, then freezes slightly, worried he's pushed too far. But You just roll your eyes, finally managing to snatch the letter back.

"Unfortunately," you sigh dramatically, settling beside him among the scattered letters. "Though I'm starting to question my judgment."

JJ clutches his chest in mock hurt. "Wow, three years and you're already tired of me? That's cold, Y/N. Ice cold." He picks up another letter, this one dated from about a year ago. "Oh look, more hearts. And are those little JJs surfing?"

"I'm going to murder you," you threaten, but there's no heat in it. You're watching him with soft eyes, taking in how the fairy lights cast shadows across his face, how his smile reaches his eyes for the first time since you’ve been back.

"Nah, you love me too much," he says automatically, then stills as he realizes what he's said. The playful atmosphere wavers for a moment, the weight of your history threatening to crash back in.

But you just smile, reaching out to fix his messy hair. "Yeah," you say softly. "I do."

The admission is simple, honest, lacking the heavy emotion of your beach conversation. JJ looks at you, really looks at you, surrounded by three years worth of letters you wrote to him, wearing his necklace, smiling at him like nothing's changed and everything's changed all at once.

"Well, shit," he says finally, a grin tugging at his lips. "That's convenient. 'Cause I might still love you too."

The moment stretches between you, charged with three years of unspoken feelings until JJ finally closes the distance. His lips meet yours softly at first, hesitant, like he's afraid you might disappear if he pushes too hard. His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheekbone as letters crinkle beneath you.

You respond immediately, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer. The kiss deepens, three years of longing and regret and love pouring into it. JJ tastes like ocean and bonfire smoke, exactly how you remember.

"Fuck," JJ breathes against your lips, pulling back slightly. His blue eyes are dark with emotion as he looks at you, his thumb still tracing patterns on your skin. "I've missed this. Missed you." His voice is rough, and vulnerable in a way he rarely allows himself to be.

You smile, tugging gently at his hair. "Yeah?" You tease, though your voice trembles slightly. "Even with my shit handwriting?"

JJ laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest where it's pressed against yours. "Especially with your shit handwriting," he murmurs, before capturing your lips again. This kiss is different - deeper, more urgent. His hand slides from your face to your neck, fingers brushing against the shell necklace.

You shift on the bed, letters scattering to the floor forgotten as you pull JJ closer. His weight settles over you naturally, like you never spent time apart. The fairy lights cast a soft glow over them, creating shadows that dance across your skin.

"Is this okay?" JJ asks between kisses, his forehead resting against yours. Despite his usual confidence, there's uncertainty in his voice. "We don't have to..."

You cut him off with another kiss, your hands sliding under his t-shirt to trace the familiar planes of his back. "JJ," you whisper against his lips. "Shut up."

He grins against your mouth, some of his usual cockiness returning. "Make me," he challenges, echoing your earlier playful banter. But there's heat in his voice now, promise in the way his fingers trail down your sides tracing the curve of your waist through the thin fabric of your white dress. His touch is familiar and electric, leaving trails of heat in its wake. The fairy lights cast a soft glow over them as he captures your lips again, deeper this time, more urgent.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathes against your mouth, his voice rough with want. His fingers find the hem of your dress, playing with the fabric as he kisses down your neck. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

"Don't you dare," you whisper, tugging at his hair the way you know he likes, The action draws a low groan from him, his hips pressing instinctively against yours. JJ pulls back slightly, his blue eyes dark with desire as he looks down at you. The shell necklace gleams against your skin, making his chest tight with emotion. He leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, following the path of the necklace.

"You're wearing too many clothes," he murmurs against your skin, his hands sliding higher under your dress. His touch is reverent, relearning every curve and dip of your body. When his fingers brush against the lace of your underwear, you both inhale sharply.

You tug at his shirt impatiently. "So are you," you breathe, helping him pull it over his head your hands immediately explore his chest. "God, I've missed touching you."

JJ's response is to kiss you again, hard and deep, as his hands work to dress up your body. "Lift up," he instructs softly, and you arch your back so he can pull the fabric over your head. The sight of you in just your underwear, his necklace resting between your breasts, makes him pause.

"What?" You ask, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. But JJ just shakes his head, leaning down to press kisses across your chest.

"Just..." he murmurs between kisses, "trying to memorize everything." His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through your bra. "In case this is a dream."

You reach up to touch JJ's face tenderly, your thumb tracing his bottom lip. "Not a dream," you whisper, pulling him down for another deep kiss. Your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him closer as his hands explore your body with increasing urgency.

JJ's fingers trace the edge of your bra, his touch teasing yet reverent. "Can I...?" he asks against your lips, and you nod, arching your back so he can reach the clasp. His hands are slightly shaky as he unhooks it like he still can't quite believe this is real.

"Fuck," he breathes as the garment falls away, revealing your breasts. The shell necklace rests between them, catching the fairy lights. JJ leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses across your chest. His tongue traces patterns on your skin, remembering exactly how to make you gasp.

Your hands tangle in his hair as he takes a nipple into his mouth, your back arching off the bed. "JJ," you moan softly, mindful of the quiet house. His free hand palms your other breast, thumb circling the sensitive peak until you're squirming beneath him.

"Missed these sounds," JJ murmurs against your skin, switching his attention to your other breast. "Missed making you fall apart." His hand slides down your stomach, fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. "Can still remember every spot that makes you shake."

To prove his point, he kisses down your ribs to that sensitive spot just below your left breast - the one that always makes you gasp. Sure enough, your breath hitches, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Still so responsive," he grins against your skin, nipping gently.

"Shut up," you breathe, but there's no heat in it. Your hands slide down his back, nails dragging lightly across his skin in the way you know drives him crazy. JJ groans, his hips pressing against yours instinctively.

"Make me," he challenges, echoing your earlier banter as he kisses lower, across your stomach. His fingers hook into your underwear, but he pauses, looking up at you with dark eyes. "Tell me you want this, Y/N/N. Tell me you want me."

You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him with eyes full of love and desire. The fairy lights cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity of his gaze. "I want you, JJ," you whisper. "Always have, always will."

When you reach the waistband of his shorts, he groans softly against your neck. "Can I?" You ask, fingers playing with the button of his shorts. JJ nods against your skin, his breath hot on your neck as you work the button free. The sound of his zipper seems loud in the quiet room.

JJ helps you slide his shorts down his legs, his breath catching as your fingers trace the waistband of his boxers. The fairy lights cast a soft glow over his skin, highlighting the muscles that flex under your touch. "Fuck, Y/N," he breathes as your hand palms him through the thin fabric. His hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction. "You're gonna kill me."

You smirk up at him, enjoying the way his breath hitches as you hook your fingers in his boxers. "That's the plan," you tease, slowly pulling the fabric down. JJ kicks them off impatiently, leaving him completely bare above you.

His hands slide up your thighs, fingers playing with the edge of your underwear. "These need to go," he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your hip bone. "Want to taste you again."

You lift your hips, letting him slide the lace down your legs. The shell necklace gleams against your skin as you move, drawing JJ's attention. He leans down, pressing kisses along the chain until he reaches the shell pendant resting between your breasts.

"Still can't believe you kept it," he whispers against your skin, his hands exploring your now-bare body with increasing urgency. "Kept wearing it all this time."

"Never took it off," you breathe, arching into his touch as his fingers trace patterns on your inner thighs. "It was like keeping a piece of you with me."

JJ groans at your words, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. His hand slides higher, fingers teasing where you want him most. "Tell me what you need," he murmurs against your mouth. "Want to make you feel good."

Your response is cut off by a gasp as his fingers find where you need him. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, "You," you manage to say. "Just you, JJ. Always you."

JJ's fingers trace slow, teasing circles against your sensitive flesh, watching with dark eyes as you arch beneath his touch. His other hand explores your body with reverent familiarity, relearning every curve and dip that he's missed for three long years. The fairy lights cast shifting shadows across your bare skin as you move together on your bed. "Fuck, you're so wet already," JJ breathes against your neck, his voice rough with desire. His fingers slide lower, teasing your entrance as his thumb continues its maddening circles. "Always so responsive for me, Y/N."

JJ can't resist leaning down to trace the chain of the necklace with his tongue, following its path down to where it rests against your sternum. "Please," you gasp as he slides one finger inside you, your legs spreading wider to accommodate him. "JJ, I need..."

"Tell me," he murmurs against your skin, adding a second finger and curling them just right. "Want to hear you say it, baby. Tell me what you need." Your response is cut off by a moan as his thumb presses harder, his fingers finding that spot inside you that makes you see stars. JJ watches your face intently, memorizing every expression of pleasure that crosses your features. His cock throbs insistently against your thigh, but he ignores it, focused entirely on making you fall apart.

"You," you finally manage, your voice breathy and desperate. "Need you inside me, JJ. Please."

JJ groans at your words, his control wavering. But he forces himself to maintain his slow pace, wanting to draw this out, to make it last. His fingers continue their steady rhythm as he kisses down your body, paying special attention to each sensitive spot he remembers.

"Not yet," he whispers against your hip bone, nipping gently at the skin there. "Want to taste you first. Been dreaming about this for three years, Y/N. Gonna take my time."

JJ settles between your thighs, his hot breath teasing your sensitive flesh as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. His fingers maintain their steady rhythm inside you, curling just right. "Missed how you taste," he murmurs against your thigh, nipping gently at the sensitive skin. "Missed making you fall apart like this." His free hand slides up your body to palm your breast, thumb circling your nipple as he finally presses his tongue against your clit.

Your back arches off the bed, one hand tangling in his salt-stiffened hair while the other grips your sheets. The shell necklace catches the light as you move, a constant reminder of your shared history. "JJ," you gasp, trying to keep your voice down despite the pleasure coursing through you.

JJ hums against you, the vibration making your thighs tremble. His tongue traces patterns around your clit as his fingers continue their steady thrusting, finding that perfect spot inside you that makes you see stars. He watches your face intently, memorizing every expression of pleasure that crosses your features.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, pulling back slightly to blow cool air against your heated flesh. "Want to see you come apart for me. Been too fucking long." His words are punctuated by another curl of his fingers, another swipe of his tongue.

Your hips buck against his face as he sucks your clit into his mouth, your breathing becoming more ragged. JJ's free hand slides down to hold your hips steady, his grip firm but gentle. "Close," you manage to gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair. "JJ, I'm so close..."

JJ doubles his efforts, his tongue moving faster as his fingers maintain their perfect rhythm. He can feel your walls beginning to flutter around his fingers and can taste how close you are. "Come for me, Y/N, Want to feel you fall apart on my tongue."

The combination of his words, his fingers, and his tongue finally pushes you over the edge. Tour back arches sharply, your thighs trembling as waves of pleasure crash over you. JJ works you through it, his movements becoming gentler as you come down from your high.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are glistening and his eyes are dark with desire. He presses soft kisses up your body as you catch your breath, paying special attention to the shell necklace that rests between your breasts. His cock presses insistently against your thigh, but he makes no move to rush things.

"Beautiful," he murmurs against your neck, nipping gently at your pulse point. "Fucking beautiful, Y/N. Missed watching you come undone like that."

Your hands slide down his back, nails dragging lightly across his skin in a way that makes him shiver. "Need you," you whisper, pulling him up for a deep kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, making you moan softly. "Please, JJ. Need you inside me."

JJ positions himself between your thighs, his cock pressing teasingly against your entrance. The fairy lights cast shadows across your sweat-slicked bodies as he captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "Need you to be sure," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire and emotion. "Tell me this is what you want, Y/N." His cock slides against your wetness, making you both gasp at the sensation. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I'm sure, JJ," you breathe, your hands sliding up his back to tangle in his hair. "Been sure since the day I left. Want you, need you, love you."

JJ groans at your words, capturing your lips again as he slowly pushes inside you. You both freeze at the sensation, overwhelmed by the feeling of being connected again after so long. "Fuck," he breathes against your neck, his arms trembling as he holds himself still. "You feel fucking perfect, baby."

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you adjust to his size, your breath coming in short gasps. The fairy lights dance across your skin as you start to move together, finding your rhythm like you’ve never spent a day apart. JJ's movements are slow, and deliberate, wanting to savor every moment.

"Missed this," he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck. "Missed you, missed us." His words are punctuated by slow, deep thrusts that make you gasp and arch beneath him. One hand slides down to grip your hip, angling you just right.

The shell necklace moves with each thrust, catching the light and drawing JJ's attention. He leans down to trace it with his tongue, following its path between your breasts. The action makes you moan softly, your walls clenching around him.

"JJ," you gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside you. "Please, need more." Your hands slide down his back, nails leaving light scratches that make him groan and thrust harder.

He continues his slow, deliberate pace, savoring every gasp and moan that escapes your lips. His hands explore your body with increasing urgency, one sliding down to grip your thigh as he adjusts the angle of his thrusts. "Fuck," he groans against your neck, nipping gently at your pulse point. "Feel so good around me, so fucking perfect." His words are punctuated by deep, measured thrusts that make your walls clench around him. The shell necklace gleams between your breasts, moving with each roll of his hips.

Your hands slide up his back, nails leaving light scratches that make him shudder. "Please, JJ," you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. "Need more, need you harder." Your voice is breathy, and desperate, making his control waver.

But JJ maintains his torturously slow pace, wanting to draw out every moment. His free hand slides between them to circle your clit, making your back arch sharply off the bed. "Not yet, baby," he murmurs, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. "Want to feel every inch of you, want to make this last."

JJ's thumb continues its maddening circles on your clit as he thrusts deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "JJ," You moan, your walls fluttering around him as you get closer to the edge. "I'm close, so close..." 

His thrusts become slightly harder, and deeper, but still maintain that measured pace that's driving you both crazy. JJ's free hand slides up to palm your breast, thumb circling your nipple as he continues to work you higher. The combination of sensations has you gasping his name, your body trembling beneath him.

JJ grins against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. "Want to try something?" he asks, his voice rough with desire. Without waiting for an answer, he suddenly rolls you over, keeping himself buried deep inside you as you end up straddling his lap.

"Fuck," You gasp at the new angle, your hands braced against his chest as you adjust. The shell necklace swings between you, catching the fairy lights as you move. JJ's hands slide up your thighs, gripping your hips as he guides you into a slow rhythm.

"That's it, baby," he groans, watching as you start to move above him. Your breasts bounce slightly with each movement, making his mouth water. "Ride my cock just like that." His hands explore your body freely from this new position, one sliding up to palm your breast while the other keeps a steady grip on your hip.

You set a torturously slow pace, rolling your hips in a way that has JJ cursing under his breath. Your walls clench around him with each movement, drawing low groans from deep in his chest. "Missed watching you like this," JJ breathes, his hands roaming your body possessively. He sits up slightly, capturing a nipple in his mouth as you continue to ride him. 

His hands guide your movements, helping you maintain that slow, deep pace that's driving you both crazy.

"JJ," You moan as he hits that perfect spot inside you. Your nails drag down his chest, leaving light scratches that make him buck up into you harder. 

JJ's control starts to slip as he watches you move above him, your head thrown back in pleasure. "Fuck, Y/N," he groans, his hands tightening on your hips. "You look so fucking good riding my cock like this."

He watches in awe as you continue to ride him, your movements becoming more confident with each roll of your hips. His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts as you move above him. "Fuck, just like that," he groans, bucking up to meet your movements. His hands grip your hips tighter, guiding you into a rhythm that has you both gasping. 

You brace your hands on his chest, using the leverage to grind down harder. Your walls clench around him with each movement, drawing curses from his lips. "JJ," you moan, your head falling back as he hits that perfect spot inside you. "So deep like this..."

JJ works faster on your clit as he continues to thrust up into you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. You gasp, and your movements become more desperate. He suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper at the loss. His chest heaves with heavy breaths as he tries to regain some control, his cock throbbing painfully between you. 

"Need to slow down," he groans against your lips, his hands sliding up your sides. "Don't want this to end yet." His fingers trace patterns on your skin as you straddle his thighs. Your hands slide down his chest, nails dragging lightly across his skin in a way that makes him shiver. "JJ," you whimper, trying to move closer. Your pussy is dripping wet, clenching around nothing as you seek friction.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," his fingers slid between your legs to tease your entrance. He watches as you gasp and arches into his touch, your walls fluttering around his fingers. "Could stay here all night, just watching you fall apart."

You rock against his hand, seeking more friction. JJ's free hand slides up to palm your breast, thumb circling your nipple as he continues to tease you with shallow thrusts of his fingers. "Please," you moan, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. "Need you back inside me, JJ. Been too long without you."

You shift in JJ's lap, deliberately grinding against his thigh. The friction makes you gasp, your wetness coating his skin as you rock your hips. His hands gripping your hips to guide your movements. "Fuck, Y/N," he groans, feeling your pussy slide against his thigh. "You're so fucking wet." His fingers dig into your flesh, leaving marks that will be visible tomorrow. 

Your hands brace against his chest for leverage as you grind harder, chasing the friction you need. The shell necklace swings between you with each movement, occasionally brushing against his heated skin. "JJ," you moan, your head falling back as pleasure builds.

JJ's free hand slides between them, thumb finding your clit as you continue to grind against him. "Please, more, need you inside me again." Your words are punctuated by the roll of your hips, your pussy sliding against his thigh with increasing urgency.

His thumb works faster on your clit as you ride his thigh, drawing you closer to release. "Come like this first," he commands roughly. You continue grinding against JJ's thigh, your movements becoming more desperate as pleasure builds. Your wetness coats his skin, making each slide of your pussy against him smoother, more intense. JJ's hands grip your hips tighter, guiding your movements as he watches you chase your release. 

"Want to feel you soak my thigh before I fuck you properly." JJ’s words, combined with the pressure on your clit and the friction against his thigh, finally push you over the edge. Your body trembles as waves of pleasure crash over you, your pussy pulsing against JJ's thigh as you come. Your wetness coats his skin, making everything slick and hot between you. 

"Fuck, that's it," His cock throbs painfully between you, demanding attention. "So fucking beautiful when you come." His thumb continues to circle your clit, drawing out your pleasure until your gasping and squirming.

Without warning, JJ flips them over, pinning you beneath him on the bed. His cock slides through your wetness, teasing your sensitive flesh. "Need to be inside you again," he groans, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "Been too fucking long without this."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Please, JJ," you whimper, still sensitive from your orgasm. Your walls clench around nothing, seeking the fullness of his cock. "Need you inside me."

JJ lines himself up with your entrance, watching your face as he slowly pushes back inside. You both groan at the sensation, your walls stretching to accommodate him again.  "Fuck, still so tight," JJ breathes, setting a slow, deep pace. His hands explore your body possessively as he thrusts into you, memorizing every curve and dip. "Feel so good."

Your hands slide up his back, nails leaving light scratches that make him shudder. Your pussy pulses around him with each thrust, drawing low groans from deep in his chest. JJ maintains his deep, steady rhythm as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force. "I’m close," you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support. "So close, JJ. Please don't stop."

His hand slides between them to circle your clit as he maintains his punishing pace. "Come for me again," he commands. His thrusts become more erratic as he feels his release approaching, his grip on your hips tightening with bruising force. The fairy lights cast dancing shadows across their sweat-slicked bodies as they move together with increasing urgency. Without warning, he suddenly pulls out, his cock throbbing painfully between you.

"Fuck," he groans, his hand wrapping around his length as he strokes himself. "Where do you want it, baby?" His eyes are dark with desire as he watches you beneath him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths.

Your hands slide up his chest, nails dragging lightly across his skin. "On me," you gasp, still trembling from your release. 

JJ's control finally snaps at your words. With a low groan, he comes hard, painting thick stripes across your stomach and breasts. The shell necklace gleams in the fairy lights, covered in drops of his release.

You collapse together on the bed, breathing heavily as you come down from your high. JJ reaches for his discarded t-shirt, gently cleaning his release from your skin. "Stay," you whisper, curling into his side. Your fingers trace patterns on his chest as your breathing slowly returns to normal. "Please stay this time."

JJ pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Not going anywhere," he murmurs against your skin. "Never again." The fairy lights continue to cast their soft glow over the room as you drift off to sleep, tangled together like they never spent a day apart.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand, the screen illuminating the dim room with a soft blue glow. He groans softly, careful not to wake you who's curled against his chest, your breathing deep and even. 

The group chat notification shows several messages from John B and Pope:

John B: yo where tf did you and y/n disappear to??? 👀

Pope: they definitely left together bro

John B: fucking FINALLY

Pope: 20 bucks says they're at her place

John B: nah man, bet they're at the chateau

JJ can't help but grin at his friends' messages, his free hand absently playing with your hair as you sleep.

His phone buzzes again:

John B: JJ we know you're reading these messages asshole

Pope: let him live, he's probably busy 😏

John B: BUSY WITH WHAT POPE??? 🤔😂

JJ rolls his eyes, typing out a quick response with one hand:

"fuck off both of you”

The response is immediate:

John B: HE LIVES!!!

Pope: told you they were together

John B: you better not fuck this up again maybank

JJ's jaw tenses at John B's last message, his arm tightening slightly around your sleeping form. The fairy lights cast soft shadows across your peaceful face as he looks down at you, remembering everything you’ve been through to get here. The shell necklace rests between you, a constant reminder of your shared past and the promise of your future but for now, in this room with its fairy lights and scattered memories, nothing exists beyond the two of you.

[cherrygirlfriend]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ helping out a friend

pairing: reader x bsf!jj synopsis: jj sends you a meme about reach-around handjobs. you give him what he wants. warnings/tags: smut, handjob, edging MDNI! wc: 400 a/n; this was inspired by a meme about reach-around handjobs. so, you're welcome lmao originally posted 10/28/2024

jj sending you stupid memes wasn't uncommon; exchanging them was pretty much a daily occurrence to you both, the two of you even doing it when you were in the same room sometimes, the other one snorting slightly from the other side of the room.

but when he sent you one about 'reach around handjobs', quickly following it with the message 'jk', you couldn't help the small glint of mischief in your eyes.

honestly, the last thing jj had expected was for you to take the meme seriously; yeah, he'd always thought you were hot and would've gotten with you in a heartbeat, but you two were always jokingly flirting.

so, even though your hand had been stroking his cock for an excruciating hour already, he still wasn't sure if it was a dream or a reality.

he was sitting inbetween your legs, his back relaxed against your bare tits and his head resting on your shoulder, jj's cock released from the boxers that rested on his thighs, covered in a mixture of sweat and precum that had leaked from his tip.

you'd been stroking him for the past hour, and every time he had been close to coming, you'd stopped, instead focusing on some documentary you'd put on tv while he whined in your arms.

he'd tried to jerk himself off, but you'd simply grabbed his wrist and looked at him pointedly, saying, "if you do that i'm never touching you again."

jj's eyes were closed, your hands moving up and down on his cock in a tortuously slow pace, every slight movement, every little noise, every small sensation all felt magnified, the drop of sweat running down his chest, the noise of the tv, every small kiss you pressed on the curve of his neck, the way you brought your thumb to the head of his cock when your hand reached it, gathering some of the precum you'd milked from him.

but the moment you even slightly started picking up your pace, he could felt the knot in his stomach tightening, his breathing picking back up.

"i can feel it." you whispered in his ear, "you're close, aren't you?"

jj couldn't speak, nodding his head profusely while small whines escaped his lips, his head completely in the clouds, biting down on his lower lip harshly while he kept his eyes so tightly shut he could feel tears stinging them.

"you wanna cum, hm? want me to make you cum?"

he let out a whiny "yes...!" before you could even finish your sentence, and you chuckled, squeezing his cock a bit more firmly while you picked up your pace, leaving small bites on his neck that caused his breath to hitch, and it wasn't long until your best friend's cock was spilling out heavy spurts of cum, painting his abdomen and his boxers white, the boy letting out loud moans.

[rafeysbunny]

bf! jj eating you out in the twinkie

your hips buckle impatiently against jj's face, pretty eyes looking through the window of the twinkie to make sure no one's around. he's peppering a bunch of wet kisses all over your creamy thighs, lips gently suckling at the sensitive flesh, which has you panting heavily already.

"c'mon, jay..." you whimper softly, and there's a pleading tone to your sweet voice. "gotta be quick."

only your crazy boyfriend could convince you that it's a good idea to let him eat you out in the back of john b's van in broad daylight, when it's clearly not. not when you're in the middle of a parking lot and your friends are in harbor freight, getting some shopping done for the poguelandia renovation. they could come back at any moment, for god's sake.

"relax, princess. i'll have you cumming in less than five minutes," he whispers cockily, hands sliding up your thighs to push your pretty, floral dress up and around your waist. "just lemme enjoy this for a bit, yeah?"

precisely, it's the dress which has gotten you into this situation in the first place, the piece of clothing making your gorgeous body look so good that jj has been dying to get his hands on you the whole day. "so fuckin' pretty." his warm breath brushes your skin while he talks, his face a few inches from your covered sex, to which he presses a chaste kiss; the action makes you shudder.

he'd keep teasing you with featherlight touches and little kisses for a bit more, relishing in the way your body arches and your hips rock upwards desperately— until he finally hooks his fingers in the gusset of your white cotton panties and pushes them aside gently, exposing your soaked pussy.

"such a dirty girl, huh?" he teases, gliding his fingers through your slit to part your slick folds. "gettin' all wet f'me, knowing our friends could walk in on me eating out this sweet cunt..."

cool air caresses your overheated flesh before he leans in and drags the flat of his tongue up your centre, nice and slow, which makes your whole body shake. your mouth drops open in response as you grab a handful of his soft, blonde hair, hips jerking unconsciously.

he moans at your taste, his piercing, blue eyes locked on yours as he closes his lips around your sensitive clit, his fingers hooking around your supple thighs to keep you spread open for him. you can feel the cool metal of his rings biting into your skin due to his hard grip. that, added to the feeling of his skilled mouth sucking onto your pussy, has your head swimming.

you'd be panting heavily and whimpering in no time, your pussy a sopping mess from your own arousal and his spit. he easily slips two thick digits inside your dripping hole, alternating between sucking and flicking your throbbing bundle of nerves. his fingers crook to rub against that spongy spot at the front that makes your vision blur and your pretty eyes roll back into your skull as you moan, not caring that someone might hear.

the orgasm builds rapidly, the coil in your tummy tightening while your pussy flutters around his fingers and your pretty little toes wiggle inside your converse. as promised, he has you cumming in less than five minutes, the pleasure so much that you squirt onto his handsome face with a whiny whimper, completely soaking everything inside john b's car.

the sight almost makes him cream his pants.

"fuck, jay, how are we gonna clean this shit up?" you'd mutter, still trying catch your breath, just before you both hear your friends' chatter getting close to the twinkie.

hell, you're screwed.

more.

[obxsummer]

leave me again ii // rafe cameron

pairing: rafe cameron x routledge!reader (she/her), ex!jj maybank x reader

summary: you left the cut with nowhere to go. it’s rafe cameron that finds you and shows you the life you deserved to live

warnings: sorry jj lovers, that man does not get our girl back so sad jj and probably ooc rafe but i love it when that man is soft

navigation || part one

--

Six months.

It had been six months since any of the Pogues had seen you. No social media, no sight of you around town, no letters. Nothing.

The past six months left you to do a lot of reevaluations. You’d walked aimlessly after the group had left for the dive with nothing but your backpack and phone, no destination in mind. Until you found one.

“Lost or something?”

“Fuck off, Rafe,” Your response was instant as you continued to walk without sparing him a look. The car shifted into a different gear, you guessed by the noise, before Rafe was hopping out to approach you.

“Are you okay?” When you didn’t answer, he moved in closer and grabbed your shoulder before turning you to face him. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong?”

You stared at him with the knowledge that you probably looked like a mess with the tear streaks across your cheeks. While Rafe had a lot of issues with your friends and brother, he usually stayed clear of you. Whether that was because you were close with Sarah, or what, you didn't know.

Twisting your fingers together, you dropped your gaze as tears started to build again. “You ever watch someone you love choose someone else over you, every single time?”

The question felt like a punch in the gut to Rafe. He had. His whole life he watched his dad choose Sarah. Watched his mom choose another family over him. Watched Wheezie choose another sibling over him.

“Get in, I’ve got somewhere to take you.”

Six months ago, you hopped in Rafe Cameron’s Range Rover and left The Cut behind. You didn’t question the decision, knowing you’d worry about everyone else before taking care of yourself, and that clearly didn’t work in the past. You felt horribly guilty about leaving John B with no indication whether you were okay or not, but you knew if one of them found out, JJ would be busting down the door to Rafe’s bedroom before you had a chance to say no. 

While you weren’t sure what the original intentions had been, Rafe was so different with you after bringing you back to his new house. One he’d bought after selling Tannyhill, free from the haunting of his father and the screams that echoed off the walls, he had turned it into a safe space for himself and anyone he invited in.

Things blossomed quickly and you realized the Rafe in front of you was not the bully, coke-head addict you’d once known. He was such a gentle person, and so much more attentive to you than JJ had ever been. Whether it was making you breakfast in bed before you left for the day, or prepping a warm (actually warm, like hot water you’d hadn’t had in forever) candle lit bath, or popping an expensive bottle of wine just for you to taste, he was there in ways nobody had been. You were his girl, his only girl, and you never once had to question that.

Rafe had even invited you to sit in on his investment meetings and he was slowly pulling your name into his business so you’d have a professional background to grow into. You were steadily becoming an educated little couple in his home, something he was so proud and grateful for. He had someone to lean on for advice and give him fresh eyes on new projects with no judgment or fear of anger. The two of you soaked up your bubble of peace for as long as you could before shit hit the fan. 

Little did you know, on the other side of the island with your brother, there had been absolutely no peace. John B and JJ barely spoke, everything ending in an argument when they did. Pope was sick of playing mediator, and Kie had more of less shut down out of guilt. Sarah was still searching for you, but you’d gone ghost. Cleo was treading lightly with the knowledge that everything would explode eventually. 

So, they did what they could, and dove into treasure hunting. When JJ pulled the amulet out of his pocket in the back of the Twinkie, John B’s emotions were mixed. Sure, he was stoked that he’d found the object the group was looking for, but he wished you were here. It was your birthday, and John B was inches away from losing his shit without you.

“Dude, are you okay?” Pope asked as the group stood in the office area of the house, trying to find more information on the amulet’s inscription.

John B tossed the heavy object on the desk in frustration. “No, I’m not okay! We can find decades old treasure like it’s the easiest thing ever, but we can’t find jack shit about my sister? That’s bullshit, Pope. And you know it.”

Pope knew things would be sensitive today. Even JJ woke up grouchy, which John B told him was deserved since he caused your absence in the first place. The lack of your presence weighed heavy on the group, so Pope suggested going to visit one of your favorite beach spots. 

Little did he know what he was getting himself into.

--

“Rafe!” The house was filled with your laughter as Rafe twirled you in the kitchen lighting, your favorite song playing from the interactive speaker on the counter. The two of you had spent the day together, visiting the country club for lunch before Rafe took you shopping for something to wear tonight.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Lemme love on you, it’s your birthday” He mumbled as he pressed soft kisses into your neck, hands squeezing your hips teasingly. The soft fabric of the dress he’d picked out covered your frame, the color matching your skin perfectly. 

You hummed in content, fingers holding his biceps tightly as if your knees would give out any second. “You loved on me a lot this morning.”

“Can’t help it.” Rafe’s thumb traced your bottom lip before he kissed you softly. “You make it so easy.”

The two of you got lost in each other for a few more moments, soaking up the quiet as the orange sunset started casting through the windows. Today had been the best day you’d had in so long and you were so grateful of Rafe for giving you so much patience and love.

It had taken time for you to adjust to this kind of life. You walked in here with three outfits to your name, a busted cell phone, and a stuffed animal John B won you at the town festival as kids. And Rafe embraced every bit of it, let you keep your Pogue pieces while building you a life around it that was filled with items you needed but would never ask for, all while loving you so gently.

You climbed out of his car (technically the one he’d bought you but you refused to acknowledge that), and stepped down into the soft sand below. This was your spot, the spot you came to whenever you needed to clear your head or take a moment alone. You’d shared it with Rafe shortly after everything changed, and now, it was a shared spot that you both considered special.

Rafe moved around the car to grab your hand and guide you toward the area he had organized for the two of you. A small white table had been set up with your favorite snacks and two glasses of wine, surrounded by the fluffiest blanket and pillows you’d seen. 

“Did you do this?” You squeezed his hand tighter, tears in your eyes at how sweet and thoughtful the gesture was. Your jaw dropped as the two of you walked closer; everything was thought out down to the tiny forks you loved so much being there to pick up the appetizers. 

“Course I did, baby.” Rafe kissed your temple softly and grabbed one of the glasses to hand to you before taking hold of his own. You clinked your glass against his, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply in appreciation.

And then everything went to shit.

“What the fuck?”

Rafe’s hand tightened against your lower back, both of you looking over to see the handful of figures standing a few feet away. Your heart went to your throat went you made eye contact with your brother, whose hand was wrapped in Sarah’s. JJ stood behind him along with Kiara, Pope, and Cleo, all of them looking at you expectantly.

“Shit,” You whispered and took a step back from Rafe, eyes meeting his in dread. His expression had hardened at the sight of JJ, all the anger rushing back when he thought about how you’d been treated in the relationship, how unfair everything had been. You clocked the frustration in his gaze and placed your fingers on his cheek to redirect his focus back to you. “Don’t. I’ll handle it.”

Rafe’s jaw ticked but he didn’t argue as you slipped your wine glass back into his hand and left his side to approach the group standing in front of you. You weren’t even worried about JJ or Kie, you were worried about John B more than anything.

“Hi,” The greeting was so quiet you almost didn’t hear yourself. How do you talk to people you disappeared on six months ago?

John B’s only response was to pull you into the tightest hug he had ever given. You stumbled with the force of his body colliding with you before regaining your balance and returning the embrace. 

“You’re okay,” He repeated the words to himself as if convincing his mind that they were true before stepping back and holding your cheeks in his hands. The smile on his face was huge, and you were so so confused. “Holy shit.”

“Hi,” You laughed quietly, placing your hands on top of his. “I’m so sorry.”

John B shook his head, his thumb brushing the random tear from your cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I told you to take a break, yeah? And you did.”

You glanced back to where Rafe was surprisingly conversing with Sarah with no anger in sight. The pit in your stomach slowly disappeared as you took them in and turned your attention back to John B. “I um… there’s a lot to catch you up on, and I want to tell you. I wanna tell you all of it, JB, but-”

“And I wanna hear it,” He reassured softly. “But someone put a lot of effort into your night and I don’t wanna steal any of it.”

You were so goddamn grateful for your brother. Pulling John B into another hug, you spared the look over his shoulder to see Kiara stomping away from the beach. You tried to keep a smirk off your face but it definitely made its way through. 

Stepping back from John B, you shared hugs with Cleo and Pope, promising that you would see them soon before you were face to face with the reason you made it here in the first place. JJ looked rough. His hair was chaotic, arms thinner than you remembered, and he just looked tired.

“I don’t want your apology,” You spoke as he opened his mouth. “And it looks like you have a girlfriend to go find anyway.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” JJ replied quickly as he stared at you. “Not anymore.”

You pulled your lips in and shrugged. “Okay. I’ll see you around, JJ.”

He reached a hand out toward you when you moved to walk away. You paused just out of his reach and looked back. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

You nodded. “I know. I should be thanking you actually, because if you had said it back to me that day, I wouldn’t have found something so much better.”

And with that, you walked away from JJ and the empty promises he had always given, walked away straight into the arms of someone who would give you the world and more, if you just so much as asked.

--

navigation 

[seasprincess]

JJ fic. I'm thinking sweet smut. Like almost goofy because that's just who he is, rarely super serious. And he and reader just know each other so well that things can be goofy, even during sex and neither of them care. Unprotected (if you're good with that). Then maybe reader finds out she's pregnant. Worried to tell JJ. But he's so thrilled.

bf!jj

a/n: I loveeed this ask

warnings: smut, pregnancy, unprotected s3x (wrap it pookies), brain rot.

“Have you got a condom?” As soon as the words leave your mouth the blonde, that’s on top of you, head pops up. He looks at you slightly confused. His hands stoping the rubbing against your lacy panties.

“I thought you were bringing them?” JJ says, his blue eyes looking into yours as he suddenly remembers.

He was supposed to bring them.

“Fuck sake.” He sighs as he runs his head, this isn’t the first time he’s had to run out and buy them during this intimate moments. He just a forgetful guy.

“Fuck it.” You say, not even thinking about it twice. You need this. He’s been touching you for too long. “You’ve been edging me f-“

“Edging.” He cuts off with a little snort and a smile. He’s so unserious it’s insane.

“Stop.”

“Sorry.”

You look up at him and lean up, pressing your soft lips against his. Slowly his slips his tongue into your mouth as his hands continue to touch, rub and caress you. He’s being soft today.

But the way he’s fiddling with the zipper of his jeans is not soft nor slow. Of course it gets stuck, and he’s just there trying to rip it open. Trying to unjam it with some huffs and puffs.

While he’s doing that you’re pulling down your panties, the fold air against your core making you flinch a bit. Before you lay back down and he lays back on top of you.

“Are you sure?” He asks as he looks at you. This isn’t the first time you’ve done it without protection but every time he checks. Make sure you’re certain.

“Yes.” You say with a nod of your head. You just can’t wait any longer.

Slowly JJ enters your cunt, your tight walls sucking him in as you let at a moan. JJ jokes about his size to everyone. Saying how big he is. But they weren’t jokes.

“Fuck mama. So tight.” He says before placing a kiss on your neck. His thrusts picking up. His hand coming to your neck, not to choke you. But to make it easier to pick up his speed. “Such a good girl.”

Your walls clench around him as your eyes screw shut. Whimpers filling the space of your bedroom.

“Please don’t stop.” You breathe out as you instinctively grab onto the duvet, knuckles turning white as you look at him. His stupid face smirking down at you before reattaching to your neck.

His face practically lives there now. Hes always kissing and sucking on your neck.

JJ’s free hand slips between your legs and starts rubbing. Rubbing that sensitive bud of yours. His cock twitching inside your pussy.

It doesn’t take long for both you and JJ to cum. His thrust slowing down as he looks at you.

Both of you panting before the blonde just has to open his stupid mouth.

“That was so skibidi.”

“Oh my god.”

You can’t believe it.

‘This can’t be real.’ You think to yourself as you look at those two lines. The two lines that can either be a blessing or a curse.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sat on the bath mat of your bathroom. I mean you can’t have a baby. Can you? You’re only eighteen living at your parents house dating a guy who only recently learnt the difference between there, their and they’re.

You can’t be parents.

You just can’t.

“Baby I’m here to hang.” The sound interrupts your thoughts. the very guy you were just thinking about. Knocking a tune on your bathroom door.

You sniff and dry your eyes, trying to get rid of any sign that you were crying.

But JJ heard everything.

“Hey, yn? You okay?” His concern is evident in his tone. He cares about you more than you’d ever know.

The bathroom door slowly opens and your eyes meet the blondes. Slowly making his way to you, crouching down and placing his hands on your knees. You’re silent. You can’t speak. Don’t know what to say if you were to open your mouth.

So you just hold the test.

JJ’s eyes follow your gaze to the test. His breath catching in the back of his throat.

You want to know how he feels, is he angry? Upset? Disappointed?

Actually he’s none of them.

“I’m going to be a dad?” He says excitedly. Immediately you look at him. Shocked by this response. He’s happy?

“Yeah.” You say quietly.

“I’m going to be a dad!” He says louder and takes off his hat before standing up. Pacing the bathroom and smiling. Yapping about all the things he’s going to do. How excited he is to have a child.

You should’ve never been worried. You’re going to be parents.

[wordsarelife]

—the alchemy

pairing: jj maybank x fem!routledge reader

summary: you always had a thing for jj, while you thought he had a thing for kie. you couldn't have been more wrong..

warnings: none i think

notes: i have absolutely no clue how to play poker, so please don't grill me lmao

the water glistened, reflecting the afternoon sun. you dunked your feet inside, hanging from the bridge you were sitting on. it was lightly moving due to the waves beneath it.

you kept your eyes trained on the horizon, but looking at nothing in particular.

jj came running from the shore, sitting down beside you, letting his feet dangle into the water next to yours. "john b is making food"

"what could he possibly be making?" you smiled, clearly knowing that there wasn't much left in the pantry. you got through the day alright, thanks to both of you working, but you didn't buy any extraordinary things to make sure you had enough money to pay everything else.

“we’re having toast,” jj smirked, then paused for dramatic effect. “but we raided heyward’s for tomatoes, and kiara brought guac from her mom. so it’s fancy toast.”

“fancy toast! the ritz could never.” you hugged your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them, but a smile crept up on your lips.

"what are you even doing out here alone?"

"i'm thinking"

"about your dad?" jj asked carefully. "you know I’m here if you need to spill. no judgment. not even if it’s super depressing.”

"thanks, i know" you were thankful that you had such great friends. people that were like family to you and always made sure you were alright, even if they didn't have much to give themselves, apart from kiara.

"are you going to surf the surge tomorrow?" jj changed the topic, interpreting your silence as answer enough.

"heard agatha's gonna be a bitch" you shrugged. "must be nice to lose a few unnecessary limbs"

"don't be ridiculous, i'm a pro" jj took the sunglasses off his head and pushed them on your nose instead. "are you coming or not?"

"i prefer not to" you giggled, slapping his hand away as he tried to readjust the rest of your apperance. "gonna look good for cps"

"they won't even make it out here, agatha will arrive too soon for that"

"well, then i should be thanking her, right?" you looked up to the sky, the sun still breaking through the slowly arriving clouds, but the darkness of them made it evident that it wouldn't take too long for the storm to arrive. "thanks aggy! sorry for calling you a bitch"

"if that isn't nice" jj grinned. "look at you! such a polite lady"

"told you i could behave better than you" you stood up and waited for him to do the same. "i'm pretty sure they just told you to go and get me not to wait out until they had finished the food, right?"

"caught me" jj shrugged. you knew him well enough to guess that he was trying to escape more work than necessary. "but it did take some time to find you. you weren't in the tower john b locked you in"

"oh, maybe i'm not as well behaved as we thought" you shrugged, following him back to the beach. "you need those sunglasses soon?" you liked the red tinted look of them. you had worn them before and you loved that they made you look like a hippie or vanessa hudgens going to coachella in 2014.

“keep ‘em,” jj shrugged, giving you an exaggerated once-over. “you look better in them anyway.”

you raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious. “how much did these cost?”

jj spun around, pretending to be offended. “whoa, whoa! don’t insult me like that. i didn’t pay for them.”

you laughed. “you stole these?”

“they were like six dollars, okay? i stole them out of principle.” he wiggled his eyebrows like that somehow made sense.

you shook your head amused. “jj, that’s still stealing.”

���nah, see, i was planning on giving them to you for a while, so really, it was a selfless act. call it proactive gift-giving.”

jj’s face lit up, the trademark smirk in place as you walked side by side back toward the beach. he kicked at the sand a little, glancing over at you every few seconds like he was waiting for you to laugh again.

you could hear the others before you saw them—john b shouting something about the toast burning, and kiara’s voice cutting through with, “how do you even burn toast?!”

“so, what’s the plan after we survive this gourmet meal?” you asked, your tone only half-teasing.

jj rubbed his hands together with a glint in his eyes. “well, after we feast on fancy toast and whatever leftovers kiara’s mom sent, i was thinking… poker.”

“poker? don’t we always lose when we play with pope?”

“yeah, but he’s working today, so we have a chance.” jj wiggled his eyebrows as if this were the best news in the world.

you laughed, shaking your head. “so, your plan is to take all my money after i generously agree to participate in poker?”

jj’s smirk deepened. “well, since you’re wearing those shades, you’re bound to win. you’ve got that poker-face-hippie thing going on.”

you shrugged, pretending to think about it. “true. i could absolutely bluff the hell out of you all.”

he nodded seriously. “exactly. so really, it’s your civic duty to play.”

“civic duty,” you repeated, laughing. “sure, sure.”

"sit down, you two" kiara ancouraged when you walked onto the patio.

"where have you been that long?" john b questioned, looking at you suspiciously. "you're always sneaking around together"

"don't be ridicilous, b" you shook your head. "we were just watching the waves"

kiara and jj exchanged glances you didn’t quite understand. it made your nerves tweak to not know what they were hinting at.

“i bet it was a sight so see” kiara said softly, a smirk on her face.

jj nodded. “as always” he shrugged, his eyes still on her.

you had to try hard not to let your face distort into jealousy. you had had a crush on jj for as long as you could remember. and the two of you were close, but nothing ever really happened with your brothers best friend.

being in love with jj was confusing. most of the time, he treated you just like anyone else, acting completely normal. but then, out of nowhere, he'd start flirting, leaving you unsure of what to think.

even though you tried your best, the crush on the boy always resurfaced when he would flirt with you once more, keeping your hopes up.

the meal continued without anything happening and you found yourselves cleaning the table to play a few rounds of poker like jj had promised.

"looks like you're in a tough spot" he grinned.

kiara had put down her cards, while you were trying hard to keep a straight face, knowing you would probably lose.

you shrugged. "i don't see you putting down anything valuable, maybank"

"ohh" kiara and your brother hollored at the same time.

"well, let's see then" kiara nudged jj's shoulder.

the blonde smirked before he revealed his cards to you, flushing a street. "you've underestimated me, guys"

john b and you sighed simultaneously, accepting defeat as you threw your own cards in the middle. while jj was busy mixing the cards, kiara took a look at her phone.

"i think i better head out" she smiled, standing up from her chair. "my mother's gonna go crazy if i'm late again"

you played a few more rounds after the girl had left, john b and you losing to jj each time. you were sure he had gotten help from pope, knowing that his time would come.

john b threw down his cards after one more uneventful round. "i'm heading to bed" he nodded, pulling his snapback down, before he highfived jj and pressed a kiss to your hair. "don't stay up too late"

"night, b" you smiled as you watched after him.

"one more round?" jj giggled.

"i'm all out" you shrugged, pointing at the pile of money on the table in front of him.

"well, if i lose you can have all of it"

"this sounds almost too good" you muttered. "okay, what if i lose then?"

"you'll take off your shirt" he shrugged.

"jj!" you pushed a hand to your mouth, draining out the scream of outrage that threatened to errupt in the air between you.

"what?" jj smirked, looking up at you with wide blue eyes. "am i making you nervous?"

"not a chance," you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady despite the way your heart was hammering in your chest. jj's smirk widened, the mischievous glint in his eyes only growing as he shuffled the cards one more time.

"alright then," he said, dealing the cards smoothly. "prove it."

you glanced at your hand, trying to keep your expression neutral. jj's eyes flickered up to meet yours, watching you intently, and you couldn't tell if he was bluffing or not.

you took a deep breath and played the first card, trying to focus on the game instead of the way jj was watching you like a hawk.

the next few minutes were tense, each of you placing cards with care. it was almost suffocating.

"you're really dragging this out, you know that?" you muttered, glancing up at him.

jj just grinned, his eyes glinting with amusement. "patience, sweetheart. good things come to those who wait," he replied, his voice low and teasing. you rolled your eyes but couldn't help the slight tug at the corners of your mouth.

finally, it came down to the last card. you had one left in your hand, and so did jj. your eyes met, the room silent except for the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You hesitated for a split second, then threw down your card.

jj's eyes flickered to the table, his face breaking into a triumphant grin. he laid his final card down with a laugh.

"looks like i win," he drawled, his voice smug. your eyes widened as you stared at the cards, disbelief washing over you. how did he keep doing this?

"you've got to be cheating," you grumbled, pushing back from the table. jj laughed, the sound warm, filling the quiet night air around you.

"well, you agreed to do this" he shrugged, like he was completely in the right.

you looked at him without any expression on your face, before you sighed, your fingers dipping down to meet the material of your shirt, as you stood up.

jj's eyes widened at your movement, standing up at the same time. "it was a joke, y/n" he muttered quickly. "you don't have to do anything you don't want to"

you halted in your movement. "if you had won, would you have given me the money, like you promised?"

"of course" jj answered without so much as a thought.

your smile deepend, before your fingers gripped the hem of the shirt, pulling it over you head in a quick motion. revealed was your bikini top. the one jj had seen you in a million times, but still his eyes widened even further.

jj's mouth opened slightly, his usual cocky demeanor vanishing as he stared at you. he remembered seeing you in it before, but this still felt different. maybe it was the intimacy of the dimly lit patio, or the way you stood before him now, your eyes steady and unwavering. you had called his bluff, and he was utterly speechless.

"see?" you said, trying to keep your voice light despite the rapid thudding of your heart. "no big deal. just a bikini, jj."

he swallowed hard, finally snapping out of his daze. "right," he said, his voice cracking slightly. he cleared his throat, his gaze darting away before quickly finding its way back to you. "just a bikini."

you walked around the table, pushing yourself between him and the discarded chair. "this can't really be the reason you're so uneasy"

you tried to read the emotion on his face, but he just looked at you, at a loss for words. you softly pushed your hand to rest against his chest. your eyes widened in surprise. "your heart is racing" you declared with a soft whisper.

"yeah" jj finally found his words. "you're so close"

you looked up at him, surprised at what he was hinting at. "i'm sorry if i'm making you uncomfortable" you tried to step back, but his hand shot out, holding you in place by your elbow.

"jj" you muttered, your voice barely audible. you could feel your heart beat just as fast as his did.

"have i ever told you how beautiful you are?" jj's voice was soft and tender, like he was trying not to disrupt the calmness of the moment.

"no" you sighed, unsure. he came closer, your noses were almost touching. his eyes were ready to close, not far from kissing you. your voice rung out before he could do anything of that sort. "what about kie?"

"what?" jj blinked in surprise, stepping backwards.

"what about kie?" you repeated a little bit louder.

"what about her?" jj laughed, before he saw the confusion in your eyes.

"i thought there was something—“

"between me and kie?" he smiled, shaking his head. "well only that she knew about my crush on you"

"you have a crush on me?"

"i thought it was kinda obvious" he pointed a finger between the both of you. "can i please finally kiss you now, routledge?"

you smiled, your heart fluttering in your chest at his confession. "of course" you watched him step closer once more, before you grinned. "but what about—?"

"—oh would you shut up now?" he pushed his lips against yours, drowning out your giggle as your smile touched his mouth like it was supposed to.

[rafesproperty]

texting bf!jj <3

i have so much fun making these, rafe version is already posted!

» masterlist

[personapeters]

✰ 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐣𝐣 (1)

— random texts with your boyfriend, jj maybank

rating: sfw — cw: slightly suggestive — links: one • two

 personapeters 2024 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[rafesbows]

hmm imagine bsf!jj big spooning reader when they're napping on the ouch like usual but he has a wet dream with reader and he wakes up to find himself hard against reader. Oh and his face if she stirs and moans at the pressure in her sleep😫

oof, where's the lip-biting emoji when I need it

the nap started like it always did—your head resting against jj’s chest, his arms loosely draped around you as the two of you sunk into the couch. it wasn’t unusual, this was your thing. naps with your best friend, nothing weird about it.

except this time, jj wasn’t asleep as peacefully as you.

his dream started innocently enough, flashes of your laughter, the way your lips looked when you smiled, the warmth of your body pressed against his. but it quickly spiraled into something else, something that had him shifting in his sleep. in his dream, you were on top of him, your hands roaming his chest, your lips brushing against his neck, your hips rolling against his. it felt so real, too real.

he woke with a start, a low groan escaping his throat as he registered the situation. his arms were still around you, your body still nestled against his, and, fuck. his hips were pressed firmly against your ass, and he was rock hard.

"shit," he whispered under his breath, trying to subtly adjust himself, but the smallest movement made it worse. your soft body against him, the way you were so perfectly curled into him, it wasn’t helping.

then you stirred.

a quiet moan escaped your lips, muffled but unmistakable, as you shifted slightly in your sleep, pressing back against him. jj froze, his breath hitching as his face turned bright red. "fuck," he muttered, his voice barely audible.

he glanced down at you, praying you didn’t wake up, but the sight of your parted lips and the peaceful expression on your face only made things worse. his hands twitched where they rested on your waist, fighting the urge to grip your hips and pull you closer.

"jesus christ," he groaned quietly, squeezing his eyes shut as he willed his body to calm down. but then you shifted again, letting out another soft moan as your body pressed more firmly against his, and he swore his heart stopped.

he bit down on his bottom lip, hard, trying to focus on anything else—literally anything—but the way you felt against him. he couldn’t move without risking waking you up, but staying like this wasn’t doing him any favors either.

when you let out a soft sigh and settled back into stillness, jj exhaled shakily, his face buried in the crook of your neck. "you’re gonna fucking kill me," he whispered to himself, his voice strained.

he stayed like that, stiff as a board, until he was sure you were completely asleep again. only then did he carefully pull himself away, muttering curses under his breath as he all but sprinted to the bathroom to deal with the situation.

[cameronsprincess]

can't stop thinking about overstimulating jj lately, like just keep sucking his dick while he cums over and over again, crying that it feels good even after saying its too much, ooff could i get a blurb/drabble/one-shot for that, maybe?

oooh i have something on this here but ofc i can give more baby!🖤

CW: 18+ only! overstimulation, male receiving oral, piv sex (not fully detailed though), jj calls reader mama like once or twice?

masterlists.

“doing so good, j. such a good boy f’me, aren’t you?”

jj writhes and whimpers beneath you, his abdomen tensing as he tries to keep his tears from falling. your soft hands were wrapped tightly around his thick cock, his tip red and swollen from already coming three times.

you situate yourself on your stomach again, tongue darting out to lick a long, wet stripe up the vein that runs up the bottom of his shaft. jj’s entire body shudders, the most beautiful moan slipping past his lips as you continue to tease at that vein. “fuck…it-it hurts… please?” jj whines, grinding his teeth before pressing his head into the plush pillows again.

your lips travel down to his balls, sucking them into your mouth as your right hand continues to slowly stroke him from tip to base. you release his balls with a messy pop, “i know baby, i know it hurts, but i need you to give me one more… can you do that f’me?”

jj’s lips part on a breath, his breathing coming out ragged and shaky. he lets out another raspy moan, “ffffuckkk… i- yeah…yeah, i can do that f’you mama.”

“good boy..” you whisper.

your lips wrap around the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around the swollen tip before sucking him deep down your throat. you begin bobbing your head up and down his thick length, taking him all the way down before slowly dragging back up. the vein of his cock pulses against your tongue, cock twitching as jj lets out a strangled “fuck.”

he was close.

you wrap a hand around his shaft again, gently stroking him while your mouth and tongue give attention to his aching tip. jj breathes out your name, his hips bucking, pushing his cock all the way down your throat before he’s coming again, slow spurts of cum spilling down your throat.

his body falls limp on the mattress, breathing heavily as his body shudders with aftershocks of his fourth orgasm of the night. you pull off of him, climbing up his body and planting a soft kiss to his lips. “you did so good, baby,” you smile down at him, your heart pulling when he returns his own weak smile. “but i think you have one more in you, don’t you?”

jj’s eyes pop open, unshed tears making his blue eyes shine brighter. “baby..i- i c-can’t.” he stutters out.

you straddle his hips, grinding your bare pussy against his soft cock, smiling when you feel it twitch back to life, hardening beneath you. you cock a brow at him, “oh? i think you can…but this time, you’re gonna cum inside my pussy. don’t you wanna be my good boy and cum inside me?”

jj groans, his hands finding your hips to help you grind against his sensitive dick. you reach behind you, gripping his cock and stroking it a few times before planting your feet on the mattress, lining his tip with your soaked entrance. you sink down on him, bottoming out as the two of you moan in unison.

you begin bouncing up and down, jj’s hands gripping the fat of your ass as you do. you run your nails down his sweat slick chest, “i know it hurts, j.. but you can do it, just one more okay?”

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @hauntedfawnn @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @rafescorpsebride @maybanksangel @maybankslover @nemesyaaa @rafescvntyclubgf @redhead1180 @jjsbaby @sarahsangelicdoll

[lovelyjj]

Am I the only one who thinks that JJ would have an insatiable oral fixation? 🫠 Literally bro can't keep his mouth off of you, whether it's kissing, biting, licking- bros a menace fr

No because you’re so right I definitely agree. You’d be outside the château with all the pogues sitting on JJ’s lap around the fire. His hands rested on your hips as he talked to his friends. When he wasn’t talking he was kissing the exposed skin of your shoulder. The other pogues were used to this type of behavior from JJ.

Or almost every minute of every day you would be making out. JJ loves to make out with you. Something about tangling his tongue with yours made him feel better. It’s like he needed it. It also didn’t matter where you were in public or not he’d massage your tongue with his own. He’d kiss you hungrily and with heat. It made him feel all tingly inside. You’d feel like your skin was ablaze.

Then there would be times where he straight up licks your face like a puppy. Sometimes he’d lick your arm but usually your face. You’d be on your phone scrolling and he’d be sitting next to you and then he’s turn his face and lick your cheek. “JJ!” “What you taste sweet,” he’d shrug. But he does it out of love and affection for you. It’s his way of showing how much he loves and cares for you.

He would also affectionately bite you. Just take a giant chomp out of your skin. “Ow!” you’d say. “I’m sorry baby you’re just so delicious,” he’d reason. He would also nibble on your earlobe. And every once in a while when he was littering your neck with hickies he’d bite your neck a little.

JJ always has his mouth on you. It was like you were his drug that he was addicted to. When you were sad he’d kiss your tears away. When you were feeling insecure he’d kiss every inch of your body and worship it. During sex he’d go down on you and kiss you on the mouth when he enters you.

Yeah you loved having a boyfriend with an oral fixation.

[yourmamakira]

Nasty dog — jj maybank

jj finds himself staring at you more then usual, and if anyone could read his mind, they would think he was one nasty dog.

jj x fem!reader , warnings — slight vulgar thoughts, fem pogue reader,

“ back to the Kitty cuz’ she’s kinda pretty, I can’t stop lookin’ at er’ ti-ti-ti-face!

Me and cat mama rode into the distant fog, Little did she know imma’ nasty DOG. “

The slight gloss on your pink lips made them look so soft. The way they jutted out slightly whenever somone would poke fun at you made you look like the cutest thing known to mankind.

The way you pranced around, care free, in that little pink bikini set that showed off every single one of your curves, gave the impression that you didn’t care who looked.

Or maybe you didn’t notice the stares, the looks you got at the beach partys as you laughed and spoke to as many people as Humanly possible, you didn’t care.

You didn’t notice the way jj tracked you with his eyes, the way he followed your every move, to ensure sure you’re safety—or at least that’s what he’s telling himself to justify his nasty thoughts.

Thoughts of taking you away from everyone else’s gaze, bringing you home or ruining your perfect mascara by making it treck down your face from good ol’ happy tears.

As he watched you laugh with Kieara across the fire, he couldn’t help the thoughts, he couldn’t hear what the two of you were talking about but he could only imagine the sweet sound of your voice,

How it Sounded like heaven itself when you spoke his name in any context.

“jj!” A voice called from beside him, and he hesitantly ripped his gaze from you, to meet eyes with Pope. That’s not who he wanted to hear call his name.

“Hm?” Is all he said before going back to stare at you, only to find you 5 feet away talking to a group of people he didn’t know, but obviously you did. You knew everyone.

“Dude, you’re basically undressing her with your eyes.” Pope spoke as he watched as jj watched you intently.

Finally jj came to his senses and he looked away, finally reaching popes look, pope shook his head with a snicker, “you, are whipped my guy. Utterly whipped.” He said as he finally caught a gaze at his two best friends, You and Keiara.

Pope couldn’t just lie, you and Kieara were two fine girls. He knew about JJ’s huge crush on you, and him Kieara, if you both would give in you all would make one hella two man.

Pope looked back at jj and watch as his star struck eyes followed your frame from across the fire. “When are you gonna’ tell er’ man?” Pope spoke with his eyes shifting between you and the puppy eyed boy.

jj looked away from you for a split second, then back to you, and the alcohol must have taken an effect because he swore you grew a pair of angel wings as you spun around and danced.

“I..I don’t know what you mean man.” He said mindlessly, when in reality, he knew exactly what he means.

Everyone did.

They didn’t miss the way his eyes would follow your every step, the way they would light up in adoration every time you spoke to him.

The way he never wore a frown when you didn’t, your emotions slowly turning into his.

The way he studied you for hurt whenever they came back from adventures, the way he would stare at you in a way no one else could.

And they certainly didn’t miss the way he mentally traced every curve his eyes could see, taking off peice by piece, essentially torturing himself.

To put it simply, Jj Maybank, was utterly in love with you.

And he made it very obvious to everyone except himself and you.

Like now, how he watched you sit next to a kook whom looked at you with a sickening grin. you, hunched over and laughing so hard that you clutched your stomach, and he couldn’t look away.

Because less then 20 feet away from him was You, His girl, sitting with a stupid Kook. What were you laughing about? How could you sit there and look so beautiful?

How could you sit there, in your pretty pink bathing suit that was one size to small, hugging your bust just oh so right, looking so…delicious.

Jj couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t, but the way you leaned back and laughed, every part of you bouncing when you walked, how could he help it?

And it didn’t help that he wasn’t the only one who seen you walk around like that, but what set jj apart from everyone else is that he saw more then just your body. He saw you.

But in this moment, he wanted nothing more then to take you away from every possible watching eye, and have you all to himself.

He was selfish, yes. But he could live with that knowing you were all his.

He could live with shielding your innocents from the cruel world.

“JJ!” he was pulled out of his head at the sound of your yelling voice, he quickly looked up so see you sprinting over to you with a big smile on your face, John B right on your tail.

You laughed loudly as you smoothly grabbed JJ’s shoulders and ducked behind him to hide.

John B stopped in front of the both of you, jj who adorned a smile on his face and you whom peaked from behind him with a giggle.

“Y/N.” John B scolded with crossed arms, you tilited your head down and looked up through your eyelashes.

jj looked behind him and quickly grabbed your arm before you bolted again, he swiftly pulled you over his shoulder and grabbed you by your waist, laying your body over his legs, your hanging over.

You giggled out again as jj ticked your stomach. He then suddenly stopped and gave you a look with raised eyebrows.

You sighed quietly and looked back up at John B who still stood there crossed arms.

“What’d you do now, pooch?” jj said looking between you and John B.

You gave him those sweet puppy eyes and then hid your face in his shirt. jj chuckled and looked up at John B with a questioning look.

“She threw sand at me, Got it all in my drink, again!” John B said as he looked down at you whom still hid.

jj looked back down to you and shook you by your way waist,

“Pooch,” he said leaning down to meet your face, “Pooch come outta’ there”

You slowly took your face out of his shirt but didn’t meet either of the staring eyes.

jj shook you again and you sighed louder this time,

“M’ sorry John B..” you mumbled under your breath, jj shook his head then sat you up so you sat fully on his lap.

“Say it like you mean it”

You groaned then stood up and walked over to John B, standing in front of him with a downward head.

“I’m sorry for kicking sand at you and getting it in your drink, John B, I didn’t mean it.” You looked up at him and gave him your best puppy eyes, he sighed then wrapped his arms around you in a hug.

“You’re forgiven” he spoke then kissed the top of your head before jotting back off to his seat.

You smiled before turning around and looking down to jj whom was already staring at you.

You smile and say back down on his lap, he wrapped one of his arms around your waist, then other coming down on your thigh.

you both smiled wide at each other, “Hi jay,” you said, “Hi pooch,” he replied

After examining each others faces, you suddenly raised your arm and took his hat off his head, putting it on yours.

You smiled in triumph and looked down at him, he had no words for what he was feeling,

Every part of him was on fire. His head, his heart, his pants…

The more you stared at him, the lore his thoughts raced,

Your boobs were smooshed in his face, eye level, your thighs felt like what he imagined clouds to feel like, soft and warm.

The way you smiled down at him, he wanted you to make more faces on top of him.

He wanted more of you, all of you.

You brought your face closer to him and softly kissed his nose, he smiled impossibly wider, “what was that for?”

You tilted your head as you matched his smile, “just ‘cause.”

“Just ‘cause?” He repeated, and you brought your face closer again and repeated it one more time, “Yeah, just ‘cause.”

His breath hitched as he looked deeper into your eyes, he wanted to make them roll back into your head.

As y’all stared, y’all’s faces got closer, and closer, till there was little to no space left.

The tent in his pants got tighter, as did his grip on your thigh.

And when he thought you’d pull away, you didn’t, and your lips connected with his.

The kiss was slow, passionate, molded for the others.

Your lips loved in sync, he raised his hand to grab the back on your neck. You swiped you Tounge across his lip and he immediately opened his mouth to give you access. Your tongue shot into his mouth, exploring every inch of it. Leaving no place untouched.

The kiss deepened, you reached your hand up and grabbed his face with both your hands. Gripping his cheeks with a firm grip.

Both of you were running out of air but neither wanted to part.

It was only until pope walked up with Kiara and spoke that you two separated,

“Jeez, suck the air out of Each other, just die from lack of oxygen, that’s cool.” Pope said as he sat on the seat next to the two of you.

Kiara then spoke up, “yeah, and what happened to the no Pouge on Pouge Macking rule?” She said sitting next to Pope

jj tore his gaze away from you to look at his friends, “that rules stupid literally no one follows that rule.” Pope then pointed to jj, “that’s what I said!”

“Besides,” jj continued, “when have I ever been known to follow rules?” He finished and looked back to you were was playing with the hairs on the back of his head staring at his face as he spoke.

You smiled again as you attacked his face. Pushing your body against his in the most lude way possible.

The two of you moaned against each other and Pope and Kiara couldn’t help but grimace as you two basically fucked with clothes on.

“Okay Okay,” said a John B who had arrived with Sarah in toe, “that’s enough PDA.” He said sitting across from the two of you, watching with disgust.

jj rolled his eyes and pulls you closer breaking the kiss, “Your right John B, That’s enough PDA, come on pooch, we’re taking this party in the house.” Is all he said as he picked you up with your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t get pregnant!” Yelled Kiara but it fell to deaf ears as the two of you were already making out again.

When he finally got you into the house and into a random room he locked the door then threw you on the bed.

He spun around and you giggled as he walked over to you, then hovered over you, knee between your legs.

“You know how pretty you are?” He said brushing hair out your face.

You smiled and brought your arms around his neck.

He got the message, no more talking was needed, except the sweet praises he whispered in your ears of course.

NOT PROOF READ