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staticscreenwriting · 11 months

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A BEAUTIFUL SOMEWHERE II CHAPTER TWO

Series Masterlist x OBX Masterlist x Full Masterlist x Series Summary

Chapter Two — Our Song

Chapter Summary: JJ and John B. have a talk about those dreaded papers. Stevie runs into an unexpected acquaintance and finds an outlet for her anger. The Pogues get together for the first time in years and decide what to do with the time they're given together.

The air smells like sawdust and summer heat and JJ’s skin is slick with sweat as the humming of the jigsaw ceases and makes room for the gentle lap of the waves mingling with the low music coming from the radio.

He can feel a sense of pride pushing against his skin, trying so desperately to find room inside of him, expanding in a way that makes it unable for him to not let himself feel it. It’s something he’s trying to get used to step by step. JJ never really had anyone be proud of anything he did so all of this is unfamiliar, it’s foreign. But he is trying. And looking at the cedarwood door frame before him, he tries to cherish the feeling of pride instead of covering it up with poisonous thoughts of self-depreciation.

“Looks good, man.”

John B’s voice cuts through the early afternoon quiet and catches JJ off guard like a cold splash of water on sun-burned skin.

“Thanks. What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t mean to sound rude, he really doesn’t, but it’s a fact that none of his friends ever show up here. Their friend group lives and breathes like some kind of natural organism that comes and goes as it does without much talking or planning. They all just gravitate toward each other in their own designated spaces like the chateau or the wreck or the beach. But this place? This is his little getaway, his shelter and his prison. Both a place to rest and to get absolutely obliterated by his own thoughts.

“Uh, good to see you too.” John B. scoffs though he grants JJ a look of mock offense void of any and all seriousness.

“You know what I mean.”

“I wanted to hang out and you weren’t at your place or the shack. And I know you stress-build so this was the only place you could be.”

“I don’t stress-build.”

He does. In fact, it’s one of the few healthy coping mechanisms he’s developed since leaving high school and forcing himself to grow up, at least a little bit. There’s a certain adult quality in building something when things get tough instead of breaking something down. You can choose to mess up when life treats you unfairly or you can choose to create something.

He’s been destructive for so long that he feels like he owes the world some creations. Or maybe he owes himself, JJ is not entirely sure.

“… and anyway, why would I be stressed? Life is fucking peachy.”

John B. lifts his eyebrow in that annoyingly smug way that is so quintessentially him it makes JJ feel both nostalgic and aggravated at the same time.

“Are you really asking me that? Like is that a legit question? Because that’s a dumb question.”

“Yeah, I’m asking.”

“Well uh let me think. Maybe you’re stressed because Stevie is back home for the first time in years after the both of you had an atomic bomb-sized blowup, that you both still refuse to talk about. “

Many nights have gone by since then, many nights when JJ was so close to opening up. To telling John B. every excruciating detail, every heartbreaking word that had been spoken. He never did though. There is always something holding him back. Some invisible vine wrapping around his heart, then his throat and pulling close, cutting off all blood, all oxygen until the thought of spilling the truth evaporates from his mind as if they never existed in the first place.

“Not stressed about that. It’s been years, we’re good.”

“That why you can’t sign the divorce papers? Because you’re good?”

JJ doesn’t have a lot of good memories of hanging out with his dad but he does remember one memory that at least started good. He was maybe 9 and Luke had allowed him to skip school and accompany him on a trip to Raleigh. He doesn’t remember why they went there in the first place but he does remember eating greasy burgers at some dingy diner and drinking lukewarm Dr Pepper in the car while his dad was singing along to Lynyrd Skynyrd. At least JJ was drinking Dr. Pepper. The good memories stop there. On the way back Luke was grumpy and mean and aggravated and JJ remembers clutching the door handle with his tiny hands and hoping that Luke would slow down, just slow down.

He didn’t slow down, not until he ran a red light and someone stepped out into the street and Luke had to step on the brake with all his might, trying to get the car to a standstill before hitting the person.

Fortunately, they didn’t hit anyone, but little JJ was flung against the seatbelt with such force that to this day he still remembers the way all the air was knocked out of him, the way he couldn’t breathe. It just wouldn’t come and his lungs felt empty. All void of oxygen.

He feels that exact same way as those words tumble from John B.’s lips. Like the air has been sucked out of his lungs and switched out with gravel, stones, rocks. Heavy and rough.

The manila envelope is stuffed into the glove compartment of his car, stashed somewhere between parking tickets that still need to be paid, pens that don’t work anymore, and napkins from various fast food places around the island.

“I — look I don’t know why I can’t do it. It’s not like I believe we’ll get back together or anything like that. We haven’t spoken to each other in 4 years, I might as well sign them. It’s not like this marriage was a good idea to begin with. It just — “

“Just what?”

JJ has thought about this so many times, so many nights have been spent tossing and turning in bed with no thoughts but those dreaded documents. Her name in blue ink on white paper all swirly and graceful. She sent them before, the only form of communication they had in 4 whole years. Just a year after she left the island they landed unceremoniously in his mailbox. Back then he just ignored them. Pretended like he never received them. Maybe part of him wished that it would get her to call, to come visit even. He never heard back though and so for the time being it was easy to play along with this version of the truth he tried so hard to hold onto. But the thoughts never really left. He always knew they were there buried in his closet like metaphorical skeletons.

This time he can’t pretend. Can’t lie to himself or to her. She handed them to him personally. Blue ink on white paper. Manila envelope on sun-kissed skin.

And he still can’t bring himself to put his name on the dotted line. It’s supposed to be so easy. It’s the hardest fucking thing.

“If I put my name on those papers It feels like admitting this was a mistake. I don’t want this to be a mistake. I made a lot of shitty calls in my life but marrying her was not one of them. I know it doesn’t mean anything right now, this stupid piece of paper but I just can’t bring myself to sign it,” JJ explains then lets out a long sigh of frustration. “I know it’s fucking dumb.”

“Do you still love her?”

JJ Maybank doesn’t remember a time in his life when he didn’t love Stephanie Collins. Loving her is part of him like the scar on his wrist from falling off of his surfboard and being smacked against a sharp rock. Like the dimple that’s only on one side of his face. Like that chip in his tooth from when he hit the ground jumping from a swing set.

“JB, I don’t think it matters.”

“You married her because you love her. If you still do, and I know you do, maybe you shouldn’t sign those papers.”

“Dude I — “

“Look, just maybe you two need to stop looking at the past and start seeing if there’s a chance for a future for the two of you.”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“JJ, you bought a house for this girl. You’re building door-frames. Everything you do is for her. Would be a shame if she never got to see it.”

JJ’s eyes wander across the room. To the drywall that’s not fully painted yet. The fireplace he fixed up. The cedarwood door-frames and to the corner of the porch there are two bright orange ceramic tiles. One with a J, one with an S in sloppy blue handwriting. They were 10 maybe 11 when they painted them in her backyard while her mom was reading a book on the porch. He remembers the soft voice of Billy Joel coming from the radio and the smell of coral honeysuckle in the air and the taste of peach iced tea on his lips.

Most of all he remembers her smile, all gap-toothed and gorgeous. Even then he thought she was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen.

Maybe John B. has a point.

“I — uh I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

John B. shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly before giving him a tiny smile. “Not sure but I heard sorry is a pretty good opener.”

The chainlink fence rattles as Stevie leans her bike against it, the hot summer sun beating down on her already, even this early in the morning, leaving her skin tingling.

In all the world there is no better remedy for the summer heat than a cherry popsicle from the gas station by her old house. It’s quite a ride now all the way from Figure 8 but some things are worth taking long bike rides for. Like cherry popsicles and the sweet taste of childhood nostalgia.

Stepping into the building is like stepping back into her childhood, her teenage years. The linoleum floor is still perpetually sticky and the air still smells stale and sharp like out-of-date candy and cleaning chemicals mixed with the smell of gasoline.

The icy AC air sends a shiver through Stevie and makes a layer of goosebumps appear across her skin. Back when they were kids, JJ would wrap his arms around her and rub her arms until she would assure him that he had warmed her up sufficiently for her to make a conscious decision on what candy to get. “You can’t think right if you’re cold. Your brain won’t work. Trust me, it’s science.” Even back then she severely doubted that statement but she never said anything to disprove his claims. It might not have been based on actual scientific research, but it was true to JJ and anyway, Stevie liked having his arms around her. So who was she to tell him wrong?

“Everybody wants to rule the world” echoes through the room reverberating between the coolers on one side and the metal rags filled with chips and condoms and beef jerky and canisters of 10W40.

Stevie pushes open the lid of the ice box, letting the stale static air escape before grabbing the object of her desire, the cherry red popsicle. Generic brand and probably a blend of every chemical one should not put in their body. But there is just something so addicting about the artificial cherry flavor that makes cutting her life short by a year or two just worth it.

As she puts the ice on the counter the song playing from the overhead speakers ends and Chicago’s “You're the Inspiration” starts playing, making it impossible for Stevie to suppress a smile. Talk about the universe sending a sign. A strange feeling settles in her stomach, a mix of happiness and nostalgia and longing and loss. A memory of what once was and what will never be.

“You found everything alright?” The cashier asks, turning around to face Stevie.

So many people pass in and out of your life leaving no lasting traces, nothing to remember them by, neither good nor bad. A fleeting moment in time spent together only to be but a distant shadow in a memory.

And then there are people like Luke Maybank. Reckless and cruel, leaving destruction and pain wherever they step. Bruises and scars on good people with good hearts.

She remembers the first time she met him, he smiled at her but it was all teeth and absolutely no kindness. He called her little miss and she hated the way those words sounded coming from his lips. Acidic and evil. Like a Disney villain only in real life leaving real bruises on real skin.

He looks older now, worn out by life and circumstance. His skin is leathery and grayish dull, suntanned, and dry from spending too much time in the sun without giving a single thought to wearing sunscreen. His eyes still hold the same icy glint though. Grey and sharp and slicing right through her cutting straight to the bone.

“Hey, do I know you?”

She almost wants to laugh at that, at his absolute incapability to take any interest in JJ’s life, so much so as to forget her of all people.

A little voice in her head is whispering mischievous thoughts into her ear. “Tell him, go ahead. Tell him you’re his daughter-in-law. See what he says!”

She doesn’t listen to the voice though, she used to when she was younger but part of growing up is learning when to shut them up and when to follow them. This is a shut-up moment.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You sure?” he musters her up and down trying desperately to find a place in his head to file her away.

“Pretty sure.”

“Well alright then. Could’ve sworn I’ve seen your pretty face before.”

And when he smiles at her then it’s no teeth or danger it’s that one dimple on his cheek dipping into his skin the same way JJ’s does. She thinks she hates this even more. Seeing a resemblance of the man she loves most in this world in this vile person before her. “That’ll be 86 cents please.”

She hands him a dollar bill and mumbles out a rushed “keep the change” before all but running out of the store.

Hatred feels red, it feels like burning you from the inside out. Bones and muscle and flesh and skin. Stevie has never felt hatred for anyone the way she feels for Luke Maybank.

He might not remember her but she remembers him alright. She remembers all the bruises and black eyes and scars littering JJ’s body. She remembers the fear in JJ’s voice and the tears running down his cheeks and all the pain and suffering he had to go through because Luke couldn’t be bothered to be a father and a decent human being.

Part of growing up is learning when to shut up the voices telling you to do irresponsible, dumb things. Stevie never claimed to be all that grown up. So when she catches sight of the ugly beige chevy suburban with the dent in the side and the crack in the windshield it feels like some higher power takes over. Her feet move as if on autopilot and bring her closer and closer to the car. Her hand reaches into the pocket of her denim shorts and grabs a hold of her key. The one with the pink plastic surfboard keychain and the small switchblade knife. Dad probably had other things in mind when he gave it to her. Protection, safety. But then again he said to use it in emergency situations and this emergency has been a long time coming.

She doesn’t even realize it’s happening until the satisfying hiss of a deflating tire pulls her back into the reality of the situation.

It’s morally wrong, she knows this as well as anyone. But every time she thinks about Luke Maybank all she can see is JJ bruised and battered and asking to be loved only for his father to leave him bloody and broken. Slashing the tire might be morally wrong but as she walks away from the scene of the crime, rides down the familiar streets of Kildare on her bike one hand on the handle one hand holding the popsicle, lips colored cherry red, there’s not a hint of regret inside of her. Sometimes things aren’t morally right but maybe that doesn’t mean they’re all wrong.

“Pogue meetup. 8 on the dot @ the chateau. Mandatory!”

John B. isn’t a texter. Never has been. He gets right to the point and if his point takes more than 3 sentences to explain he will call you. So when the text comes through Stevie doesn’t even have to question who it is summoning her to the old stomping grounds. Immediately the new number is saved in her phone as John B. He’s the only John she knows but it feels entirely wrong not to put the B where it has always been and always will belong.

The Chateau looks familiar and yet different. The big tree behind the house still stands grand and proud, the string lights still attached. She wonders if they still work. If they can still turn a backyard into a fairytale. The house looks different though, newer. It’s sporting a fresh coat of paint, light olive green, and the porch seems to have been built completely new from the ground up.

Music sounds from the backyard and laughter rings through the early afternoon daze. Her heart aches with a sense of longing, a remembrance of different times with the same people.

Their laughter still is her favorite sound in the world.

“Look who it is! Princess Pogue herself!” John B. calls out across the yard as she rounds the corner, smiling faces greeting her.

“Yo, I don’t know if that title still applies. Miss Collins is living on figure 8 now.” Pope inquiries, though Stevie can tell there’s no malicious intent in any of his words. It’s pointless teasing between friends forever entangled in each other's lives.

“Uh, objection your honor. May I remind you of one simple fact please?”

“Granted, what is that fact, Mr. Maybank?”

“Once a Pogue, always a fucking Pogue.”

His exclamation is met with a roar of applause and cheers and for a moment Stevie feels 18 and invincible again. 4 years feel like a lifetime sometimes and in moments like this one 4 years feel like they’re but a blink of an eye.

JJ’s arm falls around her shoulders as she plops down on the tree stump next to him. He smells like salty air and cheap mint body wash and fire. A can of beer is pushed into her hand, condensation cold and wet against her skin. It’s the same brand they’ve always had, the cheapest they sell at any of the stores around the island. It’s nice to know fundamental things haven’t changed.

The fire casts the group in a reddish golden glow, like oil paintings, like movie scenes too beautiful to be real life.

“You all wanna know something crazy?” she says, a smirk spreading on her lips.

Curious eyes regard her awaiting her next words.

“Richard has bidets installed in every bathroom. Remember when we didn’t have running water after one of the storms? Francine or Fiona or something? And we had to flush using collected rainwater.”

“When we sneaked into the country club to shit?” JJ asks with that cute little innocent smirk on his face that is all but innocent but works so well with his big blue eyes and the shaggy blond hair.

“Yeah JJ, that time. Well while we had to do that, figure 8 has fucking bidets.”

“Typical,” Kiara says and rolls her eyes in a way that Stevie missed so dearly. If only she could bottle up this moment, with all her friends smiling and happy and talking nonsense the way they always did.

“Does it like … tickle? Does it feel nice? Like nice nice, if you know what I mean.”

“Okay, woah JJ. No. No, come on. “ John B. speaks up accompanied by a harmony of groans following JJ’s question, earning him a confused “what?” from JJ himself.

“No more talk about — butt stuff. We’re here to celebrate the first time all of us Pogue are back on the island at the same time in years. So I would like to propose something.”

“He said butt stuff.”

“JJ!” Stevie scolds, slightly shoving her elbow into his ribs. Just enough to startle but not enough to hurt. Never.

“Sorry.”

“I propose the idea of making this the best summer ever. No drama. No problems. Just pure old Pogue shenanigans. That means fun, drinks, music, and maybe a blunt or two. What do you guys say?”

Sarah chimes up with an enthusiastic “Sounds good to me” and a grandiose bright smile. It doesn't take more than a second for the rest of the group to join in, a joy radiating from all of them that is simply contagious.

“Well, let's drink to that!”

“To the best summer of all time.” John B. says.

“To good friends.”

“To best friends.” Kie corrects Pope earning herself an agreeable nod of his head from the boy. The man.

“To spending time with the people you love most.”

As those words fall from Sarah’s lips, Stevie can’t help but glance at JJ through the corner of her eyes. It would be the world's most egregious lie if she were to deny that part of her still loves JJ. That part of her will always love him, no matter how much time or distance is put between them. Being here again just makes that so abundantly clear to her. Just because she knows though, doesn’t mean anyone else has to. So when his eyes catch hers she looks back towards the fire, acting as if nothing happened in the first place.

“To letting go of the past and building new futures.”

JJ’s words sound so honest and meaningful and back 4 years ago she immediately would’ve known what they meant. Would’ve been able to read him like an open book.

Not anymore though. And maybe those are the consequences of her own actions that she now has to live with. You are not the girl you were when you left, her mind tells her, and he is not the boy you left behind.

“To old memories. And to making new ones.”

Beers raised in the air, they all let out a whooping “Pogues for life” before taking sips from their drinks. Turning to JJ, Stevie is met with him already looking at her. God, he really does have the most beautiful blue eyes she’s ever seen. There have been so many times she’s gotten lost in them and she can almost feel herself slipping back into them. Letting the blue waves pull her in and pull her under. She wouldn’t even mind. There has never been a death as sweet as drowning in JJ’s eyes.

“Cheers, sunshine.”

“Cheers, JJ”

What a traitorous heart she has, one that won't stop fluttering just because her husband looked at her and granted her a smile. Oh, what a traitorous heart.

The moon sits high in the sky like a spotlight shining down upon the backyard of the Chateau. John B. and Sarah have turned in a while ago and both Kiara and Pope are softly snoring away on the cough inside the house, leaving only Stevie and JJ out by the dying fire.

Just them and the moon and the stars, the soft humming of the radio, and the melodic chirping of the katydids.

“Why are you smiling like that?” JJ asks, now sitting on the floor, back resting against the stump and hands locked behind his head.

“Just — you’re not gonna believe what I did today.”

“What did you do? You’re going all red, what did you do Collins?”

His eyes are wide with mischief and adoration and he’s got a red glow dusting his face. She’s not sure if it’s sunburn or the result of one too many beers. Either way, she thinks it makes him look so fucking adorable.

“I ran into your dad today.”

There’s a flicker of hurt in his eyes, one that’s always been there but one she hopes will go away one day. She doubts it ever will but there’s no harm in hoping.

“Yeah, I heard he’s back in Kildare.”

“He works at the gas station by Willow Drive. Didn’t even recognize me.”

“Of course, he didn’t. Never took an interest in any of the things that mattered to me.”

“Mmmh. Well, I was — god I was so mad, JJ. When he looked at me all friendly I just thought of all the things he did to you and how he never got his comeuppance and I just — freaked. It doesn't even absolve half of what he did to you but I just couldn't help myself.”

“What did you doooo?”

He’s giggling. A grown man giggling like he’s been told the funniest story in all of time’s existence. She loves the sound. Wants to hear it over and over and over again.

“ I slashed his tire.”

“You did not.”

“Uh—huh. I did. With a tiny keychain switchblade too.”

“Stephanie Collins, you’re a full-on criminal. I’m so proud of you.”

“I learned from the best.”

The two of them descend into a fit of laughter, half drunk on beer and high on weed but mostly intoxicated by the magic of being around each other again as if the last 4 years never happened and those kids who were dumb and in love are still there inside of them just under the surface waiting to break free.

“Hey, Stevie?”

The sincerity in his voice sends a funny sensation through her heart.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

He shrugs his shoulders and averts his eyes, training them on the dying embers of the fire. It’s funny how something can burn so brightly, so viciously and suddenly it’s but a dim light, barely a spark. There’s a metaphor there for their relationships, she’s a writer, she finds metaphors in everything. But being drunk on nostalgia and residual love, she can’t quite seem to uncover it.

“For everything. Just — I should’ve said it a while ago and I never did so I just wanted to say it now.”

Vulnerable JJ is still something that is quite unfamiliar to her. He is so full of laughter and smiles and overcompensating for how he really feels, he doesn’t show this side of him often. Never did. So when he does it’s special and it means more than he probably even realizes himself.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it. I’m sorry too.”

He places a kiss on the top of her head, so soft and gentle that she wonders for a second if she imagined it.

“You know, earlier before I noticed your dad I felt like the universe was welcoming me back to the island in the weirdest way possible.”

“Huh? How’s that?”

“They played “You’re the Inspiration” over the gas station radio. Our wedding song.”

JJ turns to her, eyebrows furrowed and nose scrunched. She’ll never get tired of looking at his face, Stevie decides at that moment.

“That’s not our wedding song.”

“Uh, yes it is! We had our first dance here in this very backyard while that song was playing. We all sang along. Don’t you remember?”

“I remember every single second of that day. But that was not our first dance.”

He shakes his head, shaggy blond hair swaying messily with the movement, before dusting himself off and standing up. Fumbling his phone from the pockets of his cargo shorts, he furiously starts typing before the Bluetooth speaker lets out a thumping sound and then reconnects to JJ’s phone.

“Our first dance,” JJ says and holds out his hand to her, pulling her to her feet and closer to his body, snaking one hand around her waist. “wasn’t even here. The first time I danced with my wife was on the back patio of the Wreck while we were waiting for the food that Kie couldn’t bring because she was at the Chateau getting the decorations ready for the reception.”

He’s right. Of course, he is. JJ never forgets the little things that turn out not to be so little after all. Back when they were still together he would remember the most inconsequential details. Her favorite flowers, food, songs. The way she liked her coffee and that waking her up with kisses was entirely more successful than a damn alarm clock.

“And this song was playing.”

When he presses play on his phone, a loud voice advertises a Spotify original podcast to them, yet another true crime one, because there aren’t entirely too many of those.

“Sorry, I don’t pay for premium. I think it’s a scam.”

Stevie doesn’t ask him to elaborate, sure there is a completely rational explanation to JJ as to why the premium service is a scam. It probably even makes a little sense if you let him explain it thoroughly.

She doesn’t ask him to elaborate, just wraps her arms around his neck like she’s done so many times before in a lifetime that feels like it wasn’t even her own but also like it happened just hours ago. Time is a funny thing.

A guitar chord fills the air followed by the hauntingly beautiful voice of Eva Cassidy.

“You'll remember me when the west wind moves Among the fields of barley You can tell the sun in his jealous sky When we walked in fields of gold”

Suddenly she’s back on the patio of the Wreck, 18 and in love, and freshly married to the boy that has always had her heart. Life was so complicated and yet so simple. Nothing has changed, everything is different.

“You looked so beautiful in that white dress. And I — “

“JJ, I loved your outfit. Those damned cuffed jeans and that crisp white shirt? That was my husband right there.”

“I liked being called your husband.” He admits with a bashful smile that evokes the dimple on his cheek. On him, nothing is menacing or uneasy. There’s not a hint of his father in him, this is all JJ.

“Yeah?”

They’re softly swaying through the night, stars illuminating the dark around them.

“Oh yeah. Made me feel like a real adult. Like I had done something right in my life. If someone as amazing as you thought I was worth marrying then how fucked up could I really be?”

Stevie never liked hearing him talk about himself like that. Granted, that version of him was usually overshadowed by the fake confident, big-mouthed, larger-than-life persona he put on, but whenever this version did show up, it almost broke Stevie’s heart.

“Is that why you didn’t sign the papers the first time I sent them?”

“You sent them before?”

“Can’t bullshit a bullshitter, JJ. I know you got them. It’s okay though. I get it. It’s hard for me too.”

He bites his lip in consideration as if for the first time in his life weighing his words, deciding what to say next.

“I just — I can’t do it. I’m sorry. Every time I try I just can’t bring myself to sign them. Like I forgot how to spell my own name or something. It’s kinda really fucked up.”

“JJ, it’s okay. You don’t have to do it right now, I’m here all summer. Just give them to me before I leave.”

The thought of her leaving is sending a pang of hurt through her heart. There’s still so much summer left, she tells herself, no need to think about the end yet.

Resting her head against his chest, Stevie closes her eyes, squeezes them shut so tightly it makes her see phosphenes for a second, shutting out the reality of what is happening. If she closes her eyes tight enough she doesn’t have to face the fact that with the end of the summer comes the actual proper end of her marriage. But this is what she wants right? Closure?

“JJ?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you come to my mom’s wedding?”

"Obviously. I’m her favorite.”

She chuckles against his chest, the fabric of his shirt swallowing most of the sound.

“Only if you promise me something though.”

Stevie pulls away and looks up at him and just for a small moment she allows herself to get lost in the blue. Just this once.

“You’ll save a dance for me.”

All her dances are his. Forever. It’s something she promised herself in silence when they danced in the back garden of the country club that one night when they were 16 and meant to work at the midsummer event but snuck away to slow dance as the band played a soft song. Just because things changed between them doesn’t mean that promise will be broken.

The fire is out, just a burned-down log and a pile of ash as Eva Cassidy lulls JJ and Stevie into a soft haze. The song is about to end but neither of them is ready to let go. Not yet. Maybe when the summer ends and things go back to normal. But not right now with the night all inky black. Not right now when it’s just them and the moon and the stars and the melodic chirping of the katydids and Eva Cassidy singing their song.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll save a dance for you.”

“I never made promises lightly And there have been some that I've broken But I swear in the days still left We'll walk in fields of gold We'll walk in fields of gold

Ooh Many years have passed since those summer days Among the fields of barley See the children run as the sun goes down As you lie in fields of gold.”

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thecameronchronicles · 2 years

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The Debt~Part Ten

TW: Language and smut; dominance and submission, derogatory language and mentions of alcohol and drugs (all overage, however). I do not own any characters but ask that you do not publish this fanfiction without my permission on any other platform. Please and thank you.

SUMMARY: You decided to call on some ‘old friends’ for some help to take down Ward, only to uncover that the one who needs the most convincing will take a special kind of persuasion…

Word Count: 3200

The Debt: Part Ten

“Absolutely not…” John B’s voice was firm yet kind, even still, your attempts to remain polite did nothing to keep your expression from forming into a scowl.

“Come on!” You began to whine, “You owe me…” You intrigued him with your answer, a scoff leaving his full lips, as your words also managed to pull the attention of two other pogues, Kiara and Pope, who hesitated the construction of their s’mores to offer their undivided attention to you.

“You’re comparing being the getaway driver for a weed run to blackmailing one of the most dangerous people in all of the outer banks?” He reminded you, seemingly speaking the words aloud more to question your sanity than for validation for himself. As you answered with a nod, you couldn’t help but notice JJ climb out of the hot tub stationed just out of view to where you had positioned yourself, his hat spun backwards to keep his golden trusses from his face while he pulled a beer to his lips, remaining amused by the entire interaction.

“Ward deserves this for everything he’s done!” The passion came through more desperately than what you had intended, yet you remained unapologetic through your outburst as you were aware you were well warranted for what you had to endure just on this night alone.

“I think you’ve been drinking a bit too much of the ‘kook juice’...” JJ attempted to lighten the clearly dense mood while Kiara shot him a look of disagreement before leaning forward to you with her elbows supported on the bends of her knees.

“What exactly IS your plan?” She questioned, immediately skeptical.

“That’s what I kind of need some help with. But I know I just need to get into his office alone for a bit…find something to use against him. I’m sure the narcissist keeps some ledger or something-maybe a file on his computer…”

“So what exactly do you want from us? We don’t really run in the same crowds…” Pope interjected, toying with the torn fringe of his chair while awaiting your answer.

“Because JJ has worked almost every place between The Cut and Figure Eight…Kiara can walk around unnoticed, and Pope-well, let’s be honest, he’s smarter than all of us put together…And John B, you have a way of convincing people…being a distraction maybe…”

“Well now you’re just flirting, cupcake…” JJ winked as the sound of ruffled terrain at your back sent your expression to shift once realizing Rafe was now behind you. You didn’t even have to run for confirmation as their reactions in accompaniment to his strong cologne had done this for you.

“What the hell is HE doing here?!” John B summoned an answer from you as everyone now stood on their feet as if either prepared to run or defend their homestead, all while you pulled your own hands up in surrender.

“We need your help-”

“WE?” JJ was not only surprised by this confession but also clearly upset, maybe even a tad jealous as he scowled at Rafe, who was almost sheepishly at your back before being rivaled. He would mend his insecurity by wrapping his arm around the curve of your back, as if staking some sort of claim, as this simple touch managed to set you on fire. His shamelessness in such an innocuous touch was somehow erotic as he was unabashed to possess you in every and any way he could-finding peace in your presence.

“I really thought you were smarter than this…” Pope critiqued with guilt, retiring into The Chateau, followed by Kiara, as both of them looked back to you one final time as if to verify what was witnessed between you and Rafe. Although easy on the eyes as a unified couple, you could not be any more different; oil and vinegar that somehow managed to make it work-or at least were naive enough to believe you could.

“Come on, baby…” Rafe attempted to pull you back to the direction of his waiting truck as you fought his grip and remained in place.

“Look…I know how this sounds okay and I’m not stupid to ignore the risk. But people like Ward deserve this-'' JJ's eyes flashed to Rafe as if silently referencing him by the use of your own words-to which he was ignored by you as you continued your rant.

“He got you fired from every job after you dated Sarah in high school-” You looked to John B, who still pined for the middle Cameron sibling, a torch burning synonymous to the fire behind his eyes at the mere mention of her name.

“And he was the reason your dad couldn’t get a job anywhere in either of the Carolinas-” You explained to JJ, who turned his head away to conceal how your words affected him.

“He got Hayward’s blacklisted from every party after Pope beat Sarah out of being Valedictorian and went out of his way to tarnish The Wreck, almost making them go bankrupt, after Kiara stood up against him for being hypocritical and an ‘environmental sadist’, if I can remember her words correctly…” The entire group silenced as they took in the depth of your words.

“And that is what he’s done in public!” Your chest clenched at the thoughts regarding Rafe, fueling your ambition once again.

“He has this influence over too many people-I’ve seen it for years and just thought it was because his name was behind half of the businesses and buildings, but it’s because everyone is terrified of him! But if we do this…You took a step closer to the remaining pogues as you continued, “We could ask for ANYTHING…No more shitty shifts for Kie…no more college for Pope-”

“Come on, we all know he’s thriving there.” JJ muttered as he was ignored once again as you looked back to John B.

“No more side jobs just to make ends meet, no more being stuck here, no more being controlled by him and people like him.” Rafe shuffled uncomfortably, well aware he was among those you spoke of, yet he was silent as he understood it was well deserved to have this spoken about him.

“Even IF we considered it…I don’t trust HIM-” John B responded as Rafe let out a heavy exhale, hands folding in his pockets.

“Maybe you should wait back in the car?” You hinted towards him as he wouldn’t even allow you to finish your request before he challenged you.

“I’m not leaving you here with THEM…”

“Don’t worry, we’d take REAL good care of her.” JJ spoke somewhere between coquettish and vulgar, pushing for Rafe to reveal his true feelings of those from the wrong side of the tracks.

“Maybe she’s trading up-” His consistent need to be borderline flirtatious, even seductive, is simply what made JJ Maybank who he was. It was the same way Pope was academic, Kiara was motivated in rebellion, and John B was the voice of reason behind the majority of their plans. But now, his expression was darker than how you’d usually witness-almost protective…

“Enough! Haven’t you ever heard the phrase, ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend’?” JJ looked at you with annoyed confusion as John B bowed his head into a slow nod.

“What the hell does that mean?” JJ pushed for a further definition as you released a fatigued breath.

“We have something in common…a hatred for him…But we need your help.” John B and JJ looked between one another before looking back at you, teetering on that line between being convinced and being indifferent.

“He has hurt everyone at one point or another and I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to do it again, okay? This is our chance to make him accountable for it…”

“By being as bad as him?” Kiara suddenly returned, a shadow now wrapped around what was once a bikini clad molasses hued physique.

“If not for the morale of it…then how about a cut?” Rafe narrowed his eyes at your back with the comment of a detail not discussed between the two of you.

“One million each?” The space was made silent by your offer. The hot tub bubbling in abandon, the string lights sporadic through the trees above, even the bugs harmonizing beneath the untrimmed grass wasn’t enough of a distraction to your words. But Rafe’s voice would be the one to speak first as he lowered towards your ear.

“How much are you planning to ask for exactly?”

“Ten.” You answered, dividing it unfairly between the group while offering you and Rafe a larger portion as you had no alternatives where Pope had his academia and Kiara had her family. You and Rafe only had each other and you needed a fresh start away from Ward to be able to remain that way.

“There IS a lot of student debt…” Pope added, emerging from the shadows.

“No more shifts at the wreck…a LOT of charities that could be put towards…” Both Pope and Kiara now looked to the remaining two who had yet to comment.

“No more charters…”

“No more fixing kook’s cars for half the pay…” JJ remarked, slowly nodding his head.

“I’m in.” Everyone now looked at him in disbelief with your expression lying as the exception while your lips curved to a grin of approval.

“I’ve seen him make shady ass dealings at the club and arguments with people who I haven't seen since…so…to get him out of my hair AND the benefit of a bit of-'' He began to rub his fingers together to symbolize cash.

“It WOULD mean my parents wouldn't have to worry about spring break season being their best out of the year…” Kiara continued aloud as Pope would finalize his idea, “Like I said…no student debt…” They now all looked to John B.

“Well then…” He spoke your name with a soft tone of annoyance that was synonymous between siblings, as he lifted his beer in initiation.

“I suppose we better talk strategy-Any ideas?” The space drew quiet.

“I can make a distraction…” JJ spoke proudly while playing with his lighter as Kiara quickly forced it closed as if acting the part of a parent he was perpetually denied, even in his early twenties.

“If my dad sees anyone of you, he’s going to know something is going on-” Rafe added, the cool timbre of his tone sending volts of electricity down your spine as it allowed you a sense of serenity to be reminded of how he stood in support at your back, despite how crazy this all seemed.

“What if I distracted him?” Kiara offered as JJ winced.

“Not a chance in hell, Kie.”

“What if I did?” The words left your lips before you could stop them as Rafe was suddenly at your side, your wrist in his grasp.

“Fuck no!”

“If anyone else tries to get close to him, he’ll know-you just said it-”

“YOU’RE not an option.” You paused for a moment, touched by his worry, but deciding the lesser of two evils was the way to go for an overall success of this loose forming plan.

“The jerk from tonight said it…he is going to let everyone have a chance with me-” The pogues looked at one another in cold silence, exchanging glances that validated their reasons for helping you.

“Not happening!” Rafe chimed, shaking his head and carrying his fingers to his temples for half a second, before returning his grip to you.

“This was a mistake…get your ass in the truck-” Before you could even attempt a rebuttal, he was already slipping into the driver’s side of the vehicle, waiting for you.

“Whatever we can do to help, we will…” John B added as you had been abandoned by Rafe, feeling his eyes blazing into you from only a few meters that somehow felt contradicting in both breathing down your neck and being completely out of sight.

“But we all have to be on the same page for this to work-no loose ends…And Rafe…he’s dangerous-”

“I know. But…if you can’t do it for him…”

“We’ve got you.” JJ validated. “But he gives one crooked look and-” JJ suddenly produced a gun as Kiara quickly corrected his recklessness as you moved into the direction of the truck and they made their way inside the chateau.

“Rafe-” You began, prepared to either grovel or scream at him if it would get him to see your point as your freedom was so close you could nearly taste it.

“Don’t-don’t give me those fucking puppy dog eyes, okay?” He looked at you for the first time in pure anger, nothing soft lightening those usual sapphire irises.

“I mean it! This isn’t some game or some joke! I shouldn't have agreed to it for even a second! We’re leaving-” But with the attempt he made to draw the stick shift in reverse, you collected the keys in your palm. The shift of any compassion on his face draining to your thievery, you spoke before he could further his aggression towards you.

“I want a life with you, Rafe…Or at least a chance at one…You know we can never have that. You are his son, he isn’t going to just let you leave-”

“You’d be surprised.” He muttered as you reached for him, only to feel him pull away from you. It was then that you realized you wouldn’t persuade him with words. Instead, you knew what was needed to lead him into further convincing.

“Rafe…” You leaned into his side, hand riding up his thigh, as his eyes collected towards you with attention but remaining annoyance. But even in your name spoken beneath his breathless warning, you were too devoted in your own task to care of the repercussions of disobeying him or the eyes of any nearby.

“This is how it could be…” You teased, “All these little moments we’d have…Without having to be at dinners and fundraisers…So much time that I could make you feel good…” His hand wrapped dominantly around your wrist.

“Not likely, sweetheart. Not even those naughtly little hands can-”

“I wasn’t thinking about my hands…” Your fingers gingerly pulled him from his pants, exposing his erection to the unkind air around you.

“You didn't get enough earlier?” He countered, eyes darting to your lips as you wrapped your hand slowly around him, bringing the sensation of skin-to-skin to set him alight with a breath interrupted by your touch.

“I never do…” His hand suddenly took hold of your hair, wrapping it as it knew well with his makeshift ponytail made of his thick fingers.

“If you do this right now…I don’t care who the fuck sees you, yeah? You’re gonna keep going until you make me come-” You slowly nodded as his second hand moved to your jaw. “And you don’t get to…no touching yourself or writhing in your seat,” He pulled your hair back further, thumb now brushing your bottom lip until returning to this hold.

“You only get to come when I touch you-”

“Yes.” You released your agreement on your exhale.

“Then convince me, baby…” His eyes followed you as your gaze remained as locked as you could before your angle made this impossible. But in what was lost for sight was mended by feel as you captivated him within your mouth at a tender pace. You took time to romanticize his cock, adorning each inch concealing every vein, until you would choke on his extension.

“Take it.” He ordered as you nodded, relaxing your throat once being familiarized with him once again, pushing beyond your limit. Once you were comfortable enough with your nails eating into his bare thighs, orchestrated by his grip in your hair that needed little guidance from you having learned precisely how he liked to be pleased, you bobbed in the perfect combination of sucking and teasing while twisting his base.

“So good.” he praised between clenched teeth before you began to lower to his full extensions of his groin, toying with him.

“Deeper.” He commanded, raising his hips as he chuckled once feeling your tears dampen his thigh.

“Crying already, baby?” You were silent but thoroughly motivated as his fingers wrapped within your hair intensified once again, this time holding you in your gag, before finally lifting you for a breath.

“You look so fucking pretty around my cock…”

“I want you to come, Rafe…I want to make you come-” His eyes danced over your expression for a moment, taking in the details he was responsible for; the gloss over your swollen lips, the tears on your cheeks, the desperation of fresh air. It was as if you were a new wonder of the world revealed just for him.

“I want to make you feel good-” But suddenly, he left the vehicle, leaving you to watch him round to your side of the car. Without the chance to question him, you were pulled to the ground and bent over the seat.

“I thought you said-”

“I need to know you want me-” His hands were frenzied over your clothes, removing only what was necessary for penetration, before he teased his dripping cock throughout your soaked folds.

“I always want you…” You groaned as you felt him smirk over your shoulder.

“Prove it to me again, sweetheart.” Immediately thrusting his depth into you, you clutched the seat before you, a victim to his relentless thrusts. The way his fingers ate into your hips was euphoric in accompaniment to the moans that only endorsed you to ignore the pain caused by him having stretched you out once again.

“Come with me-”

“But you said-'' You tried for clarification as he pulled you against him enough to where one hand came beneath your shirt, shameless to your pebbled nipple as the other slipped over your clit.

“Don’t fucking question me or I won’t let you come.” You bit the insides of your lips to keep them sealed.

“I don’t care if Maybank or anyone else from here to Figure Eight hears you, I want everyone- JJ, John B, Pope-the asshole from tonight to know…I just want to come inside you-” The fear of what this could potentially mean in terms of negligent contraception, a larger portion of your mind craved to please him. With the pill already scheduled to be taken the next morning, you nodded in agreement.

“I want you to-”

“To WHAT?” He probed your lower lips, now lifting his secondary hand to your neck to hold you in place.

“I want you to come inside me, Rafe!”

“Louder baby, I can’t hear you over my own pulse-”

“Fuck!” You only managed to utter at the cusp of your orgasm as he folded you back over the seat, continuing to fondle your sensitive clit through your climax as he found his own a few seconds later.

“Shit baby, you’re gonna make me come!” The sporadic jolts expelling him into you, sent him in a mix of grunts, groans,and curses, before he turned you to face him.

“Okay…” He spoke with lust blown eyes that held the ability to hold the grounds of convincing you for a ‘round two’, technical round three if totaled for the night, as you heaved before him, pleasantly numb in your over-stimulation of your husband yet again.

“But we do this MY way…”

Part 11 Coming soon! Be sure to tell me what you think and let me know if you want to be on the taglist! Hope you enjoyed!

Taglist: @hopebaker

#rafe cameron #Rafecameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks smut #pogues #pogues x reader #obx #obx fanficton #obx smut

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marvelouswritee · 4 years

Text

Quarantine Shenanigans with JJ Maybank

{gif originally posted by @heapass}

words: 1.2k

summary: teenagers quarantined together with their horniness.

au: soooo i have been reading fanfictions since i was like eight or nine yet, somehow, i don’t the difference between one-shots, blurbs, imagines, canons, and drables? like they all just seem the same??? I- please help a grandma out lol

enjoy my fucking filthy smut

You teasingly begin to lick the tip of JJ’s member. It was a good way to wake him up since he’s been refusing to attend his Zoom classes. You know what’s best for him, but he’s just stubborn to listen to anyone. However, the thick-headed boy has been sexually frustrated ever since the beginning of quarantine. So, what better way to wake up a boy with throbbing erections in his sleep?

A morning blowjob.

He releases a gentle moan, your hands stroking his hardening cock. JJ lifts the blue blanket, revealing his erection warm in your mouth. You send him a mischievous smirk before shoving his shaft deep in your throat. His moans become louder as you slurp up-and-down of his cock.

“Fuck, yeah, go faster,” JJ begs. His hips thrusting to the back of your throat to make you gag. JJ was reaching his climax when your velvet tongue licked his pre-cum then continued your phenomenal deep-throating. The tip is his most sensitive spot.

“I’m gonna cum,” he announces within the second his salty goop thaws above your tongue. His eyes are sealed due to the pleasurable release while his hands are gripped to your head, pushing you down to collect his semen. After the tasty hard gulp, you ascend above JJ to see his flustered cheeks.

“Good morning,” you greet with an innocent smile.

“Hell yeah, that was a good morning to wake up to,” JJ rejoiced, making you giggle. He clasp your lips together, eager to make love to you. His hands are on your waist, caressing your curves.

“Mm, you gotta get to class,” you remind him. He groans in between your soft kisses.

“Class can wait, (Y/N). But me? I can’t wait to be inside you,” he whispers to your ear, escalating to your neck. Your cheeks blush bright red. “Come on, you know you want to.”

“I’ll make a deal with you, JJ. If you get your ass to class, I’ll give you a reward.” His eyebrow raise curiously.

“Can I decide what reward am I going to get?” He rests his hands on your waist, ogling your basically naked body.

“Yes, JJ,” you lean onto his neck with puckered swollen lips, giving him soft kisses on his collarbone. Trailing your kisses to his lips, you softly bite his earlobe before whispering to his ears seductively. “Anything you want.”

***

It’s now three in the afternoon and JJ has finished most of his assignments. You, on the other hand, is only finishing your last worksheet for the day. JJ exits out the bedroom the two of you share with his usual gray tank top and shorts. “What are you working on, babe?”

“Just some chemistry homework I have to turn in by eight tonight.” He notices your furrowed eyebrows in distress.

“Do you need any help? You look like you’re having a hard time there.”

You look up from the screen, catching his gaze. “No offense, JJ, but chemistry is not your best subject.” And, it was true. The rebellious boy would rather be caught dead than pay attention to class. However, he had the urge to help.

“Hey, let me see. I can help, I just finished my chemistry homework.” JJ leans on the kitchen table, skimming the worksheet. His adorable dimples make an appearance when a grin beams on his face. “I just did this! Hold on, let me share you my worksheet.”

“Wait, shit, really? You did it by yourself?”

“No, Pope texted me the answers.” JJ opens his computer in the bedroom, clicking the bottom to share his virtual worksheet with you. You clicked on the new notification from your inbox, prepared to copy down the answers. Surely, these are the correct answers considering Pope was the one who sent them to JJ.

After five minutes of copying the answers from JJ’s worksheet to yours, the sigh of relief you felt when you finally submitted the worksheet. It was refreshing, almost freeing that you may or may not have cheated off somebody’s worksheet yet you still finished the homework.

It’s the thought that counts.

You shut off your computer then shoved it back to your computer. “Thank you,” you affectionately hug JJ from the back in the kitchen. JJ turns around with a smile on his face, his dimples visible on his cheek.

“Hey, no problem. Anything for you.” You give him a quick peck before leaving. However, JJ pulls you back to his body. “Remember our deal?”

“What deal?” you pretended to forget.

“The deal that you said. When I do my schoolwork, you’ll reward me with whatever I want.” His hands eagerly squeeze your ass.

“Hm, you must be dreaming, JJ. I don’t recall saying any of those words.” He picks your body and then places you on the counter. He hungrily presses his lips against yours. Your rests your hands on his cheeks, also playing with his scattered blond hair.

Sparing the foreplay, JJ is ravenous for your taste. He kneels, swiftly taking off your underwear- throwing it to the floor. Immediately, he stretches your pussy lips to propel his tongue inside your vagina. Your fingers are tugging on his hair as he twists his tongue inside you. His thumb begins to make circular motions on your sensitive spot- your clitoris. JJ eating you out while simultaneously moving your clit results in loosening pornographic moans and intense language.

“Fuck, JJ, please let me cum,” you plead with a moan. He licks your clit then back inside you. “Please.”

“That’s not my name,” he looks up with darkness and mischievous in his eyes.

“What?” you come back to reality.

“What’s my name?”

He inserts two fingers inside your dripping cunt, ready to explode. His fingers start to penetrate your sloppy insides. You moan uncontrollably, biting on your fingers to silence yourself. The reality is becoming blurry, turning into one of your exotic fantasies.

“Fuck, Daddy! Please let me cum. Shit!” You feel JJ smirk against your pussy.

“That’s my good girl. Cum for me, baby,” he says, triggering your explosion of cum. Your back arches as your head tilts back with your eyes sealed shut. JJ watches your climax as he licks your vagina filled with cum. He hums, his tongue still attached to your delicate opening. You look down after regaining reality, JJ with a mischievous smirk. He makes a trail of kisses on your inner thighs before standing back up.

“Holy fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you caught his eyes. He uses his hand to wipe the remaining liquid on his face.

“That was one of the best rewards I’ve ever gotten,” JJ declares, biting his lip.

“Glad you like it.”

“That was just the first part, though.”

“What?” you curiously ask. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, that wasn’t all the reward I wanted. I spent like eight hours behind a computer screen doing homework, which sucked. In return, I want to waste another eight hours-” he leans to your ear- “inside you.”

You raise your eyebrows teasingly. “Can you even last eight hours?”

“Why? Are you tired?”

“No, I’m just asking. I don’t think you can last that long, JJ.” You cross your arms with confidence.

“You don’t think I can last that long?” JJ scoffs.

“Yeah. You’re going to have to prove it,” you smirk.

“For the eight hours I’m going to prove to you, you’re gonna be screaming until you only know my name.”

#jj maybank #outer banks #fanficton #smut #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fanfic #jj outer banks #rudy pankow #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow fanfic #rudy pankow smut #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #rudy pankow x you #rudy pankow x y/n

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