#platonic pogues fic

[featherandferns]

fascinating new thing (fic)

jj maybank x fem!kook!shy!reader | the music the band plays in this are songs by beach bunny (that's the music style i envisioned for the reader) - check them out!

content warning: drinking & drug use; anxiety & anxiety attacks

word count: 18k. (the definition of a slow-burn, so just hang in there, okay?)

Blurb: after your band plays a show at kiara's parents' restaurant, you find yourself face to face with jj maybank. shy and socially awkward, you fumble through, knowing that a guy like jj would never want a thing to do with you, right?

“I don’t understand you,” Kiara says. She’s perched atop one of the speakers.

“What’d you mean?” you ask from where you kneel on the floor. You’re detangling wires.

“When you met my parents, I could barely get your name out of you. But now I find out you enjoy singing to a crowd of strangers in your spare time?”

You laugh, shrugging.

“I mean, if I was shy, I think my worst fear would be singing to a group of anybody – let alone strangers,” Kie tells you with a chuckle.

“I guess it’s cause I’m in my element when I’m singing and stuff. I feel calm,” you think aloud.

You’d never really thought of it that much. Performing music always came easy to you. Talking to people, not so much.

The wires finally unknot and you go about plugging them into the correct amps. Kiara had offered to help you and your band set up before your gig. It was at The Wreck – her parents gracious enough to let you guys play – and Kie, being your friend for just over a year, was all for it.

You’d met at school when she transferred to (what she proclaimed as) Kook Academy. Kie felt as if she didn’t fit in, away from the Pogues and amongst the snobs. You felt like an outsider too. Making friends never came easy to you. Your shyness got in the way and made you clam up. The good first half of your years at school were spent having panic attacks during breaktime and hiding behind the sheds to eat lunch alone. One day you made your usual journey there to find Kiara, sat crying. You’d struck up your best attempt at conversation, sympathising immediately. She confided in you about missing her old school, and how this ‘bitch’ Sarah Cameron had started a rumour and ditched her. You nodded through it and offered up eating lunch together, which soon turned into hanging out after school, and overtime Kie pulled you out of your shell. That was when you told her about your band.

The only reason you’d managed to find your band was from the school counsellor’s insistence that you join an extra-circular. When you meekly confessed that you liked playing music and writing songs, she’d thrust you into band practice. Seriously: she literally escorted you there. Benny, who played drums, and Pansy, who played guitar, were your first friends. Pansy had an effervescent charm to her; naturally outgoing but not intimidating. Strangely, she was easy to talk to. Non-judgemental and non-pushy. Never asked you the age-old question ‘how come you’re so quiet?’ Benny was a little like you and it was as if the two of you clocked each other and decided to stick it out. Over time, you both opened up, with Pansy’s assistance of course. The bassist was someone Pansy met (and probably cornered) at a kegger, named Mike. Aloof and mysterious, you spent a great deal of your time wondering if he liked you and a greater deal wondering who he was. Finally, with you on vocals, the band was formed. Pansy lovingly named it The Wallflowers, in your honour.

As soon as Kie found out, she insisted on having you play at The Wreck. All of that led up to today, with the show due to start in two hours.

“I’m so excited to hear you guys play,” she grins. “I can’t believe it took you so long to tell me you were in a band.”

“Just never came up,” you chuckle, standing up. “How many people do you think’ll come?”

“Maybe fifty or so? Dad posted about it on the Facebook page and I put up some posters.”

Your stomach drops. “Posters?”

Kie jumps off the speaker. “Only around the cut! None at Kook Academy, don’t worry.”

The panic eases somewhat with her clarification. You weren’t exactly enthused to have some of your classmates, who seemed to find pleasure in teasing your quietness, coming to see you play. Your band was like your safe spot: where you could express yourself. Pansy practically had to prise the songs you’d written out of your hands at the first practice.

As if summoning her by thought, the afro haired girl waltzes into the restaurant, guitar case slung over her shoulders. “I can’t believe I haven’t been here before! This place is hella cute, Kie!”

“Thanks,” Kiara smiles.

Pansy hops onto the small make-shift stage you’d borrowed from the school’s music department, looking around the room as if she’d conquered the land.

“Yeah, yeah. This’ll do nicely.”

“This your lots’ first gig?” Kiara wonders as she gets up to get you all drinks.

“Nah. We’ve done a couple at my uncle’s bar,” Pansy replies. “Benny managed to get us this thing at a fundraiser too, last month.”

“It’s nice trying somewhere new though,” you say. Pansy nods enthusiastically.

“Especially somewhere this cute!”

Kiara laughs, walking back over with three cups balanced in her hands. You and Pansy take one each and have a sip. Fresh lemonade; perfect for the April weather warmth.

“When’s Benny and Mike getting here?”

“Mike’s hitching a lift with Benny. Said they’ll be about ten minutes or so,” Pansy replies.

She puts down her cup and shrugs off her guitar case. Unzipping it, she retrieves her ‘baby’. You’re surprised she doesn’t start gushing over how beautiful she is. You and Kie keep chatting about how schools nearly finished for the year as Pansy sorts out the cables and amps for her electric guitar. She then props it on the stand.

Just as she said they would, Benny and Mike walk into The Wreck just under ten minutes later. They’re both wheeling in drum pieces. Mike dashes out to grab his bass from the van. You move to help Benny set up his drums.

“You borrow your dad’s van again?” you ask him.

He nods. “Surprised he isn’t making me pay for gas.”

As you sit back on your haunches, screwing in one of the bolts for the kick drum, Benny looks at you. “You look nice, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you smile, not looking away from your handy work.

“New shorts?”

“Nah. Had them a while.”

“Oh. Well, they look nice.”

Benny lingers a moment longer, as if he might say something else, but then must think better of it and goes back to fixing the hi-hat.

“You nervous for tonight?”

“Not more than usual. I know I’ll be fine once we start playing,” you reply.

As the two of you finish setting up the drumkit, you glance off to see that Pansy has trapped Kie in some intense discussion about crystals. You knew it was risky introducing the two of them: two astrology girlies are a deadly combination. Mike sits off to the side, tuning his bass. The speaker’s on and it echoes around the room.

“Sounding groovy,” Kiara’s dad calls from the doorway of the kitchen.

Kie groans. “Dad, nobody says groovy.”

“Well, I do,” he says, winking at her. She rolls her eyes lovingly. “Think it should be a good crowd tonight, guys. Excited to hear you play.”

Pansy beams at him. “Thanks! We’ve been practising like mad for it!”

“Yeah. Pansy didn’t give us much of a choice,” Mike sardonically grins, making everyone laugh.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you!” Kiara says your name to catch your attention. “You remember me telling you about my friends, John B and all that? They’re coming too.”

“They are?” you ask, nervousness spiking.

She nods. “They’re super excited to meet you.”

There must be clear panic on your face because her enthusiasm evens out into a calming smile. “Hey! Don’t worry. They’re super chill.”

“Kie, no offense, but from some of the stories you’ve told me, they don’t sound super chill,” you mumble, going back to fixing another part of the drum into place.

“I mean they’re non-judgemental. Especially Pope. He’s a little weird too. Uh, no offence.”

“Offence,” you reply, though you smile when you do.

Kie calling you weird doesn’t bother you. Any other Kook at school doing it though, and you’d probably burst into tears.

“It’s alright. I’ll just sneak you out after the gig in a suitcase like they do with Taylor Swift,” Benny whispers to you. You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Great plan. Not obvious at all.”

The rest of the set-up goes to plan. After an hour, the instruments are plugged in and tuned up. Mike and Pansy have practised the bridge to one of the songs about twenty times, making your head begin to pound. Kiara’s dad has elicited Kie’s help in the kitchen with making the buffet-style meal. Their working was to do a pay-for-it-all sort of method: a set price of ten dollars per plate, loaded up as full as you want. Seconds and thirds were another five dollars. It seemed the best way to take orders without interrupting the gig. Kie’s mum comes to prepare the drinks. Bowls of punch for the kids and teens, and beers and cans for the adults.

By the time it comes close for you guys to play, the room is beginning to pack. You sit on the side of the stage, mostly hidden by one of the amps, with Pansy acting as an unofficial barrier for anybody who tries to talk to you. She’s glad to answer any questions, quickly diving into stories about the band name and the songs and whatever else comes to mind. Mike chimes in too, also rather extraverted, and you and Benny cower in the back like lost children in a shopping mall searching for their parents.

There’re the nerves before you play – like always – but the calmness of knowing that as soon as the first chord is strummed, it’ll fade out. You seem to slip into a corner of your brain when you guys play your songs. Like nobody can touch you or judge you. You’re almost able to fully let go.

“You guys ready?” Kiara’s dad asks, walking over to your foursome.

Nope. Nerves are back and in full force. Maybe you’ll throw up right here right now, and they’ll have to call the whole thing off.

“Hell yeah!” Pansy exclaims. She probably thinks she’s talking for all of you.

Kiara’s dad steps onto the stage and goes to the microphone, flicking it on. It buzzes to life, the noise catching people’s attention, and when he taps on it to make sure it’s working, the conversations naturally die down.

“Alright, folks! You guys are in for a treat tonight! The grooviest band from Kildare County is here to perform!”

You see Kie groan and shake her head from the back of the room, making you laugh. It helps ease your nerves. You don’t have time to check if her friends have arrived because you’re being ushered up by Pansy.

“Let’s here it for The Wallflowers!”

The applause from the small crowd that’s gathered feels like a stadium cheering you on. Pansy jumps on stage first, grabbing her guitar, waving happily to the crowd as if she knew each of them personally and had been banking on them to come. Mike gives a casual nod as he steps up and pulls on his bass. Benny slinks behind the drum kit, flashing the briefest of smiles to the crowd.

You focus on the floor and take a quick breath in. Here we go. Then you’re stepping onto the stage, forcing your head up, plastering on a smile, and waving.

Pansy always introduces the band. You can’t bring yourself to form words at the start of the show.

“How we all doing tonight?” She loudly asks, her voice echoing through the speakers.

The crowd give another whoop and cheer. It’s mostly teenagers and young adults, with some older couples and families intermixed. You catch Kiara’s eye and feel your shoulder’s relax a little when she gives a grin and thumbs-up. There’s not enough confidence in you to look at her friends.

Pansy introduces herself then names each one of you, pointing as she goes. Finally, she declares, “We’re The Wallflowers and we’ve got some songs to play for you tonight. You guys ready?”

You don’t take in the response from the crowd. Just close your eyes and wrap your hands around the microphone, searching for the tap of Benny’s drumsticks to count you in. Wait for it. Wait for it…

Two, three, four—

The moment Pansy strums her first chord, and Mike hits his first note, your mouth opens and the words fly out, second nature, without a thought.

“Sometimes I think I see your ghost…”

The anxiety gets shoved down, suppressed by something akin to confidence, and you manage to open your eyes. Your body naturally sways to the music, hands not leaving the microphone until you reach the first chorus.

“If you’re gonna love me, make sure that you do it right. I’ll be under your window in the moonlight.”

Fingers pushing through your hair, sweeping it off your shoulders, you dance a little to the beat. Benny’s hitting, keeping you all in rhythm, and Mike’s bass thrums lowly to keep you in tune. Pansy’s grinning – you see it from the corner of your eye – as she plays her guitar. It makes you smile. Your band; a mismatched group of teens from the sweeter side of Kook Academy. You have no idea how you managed to find them, but there’s no complaints to be heard. As if sinking into the cosiest of beds after a tiresome day, you relax into the music, relax in yourself.

After the first song, it becomes easy. You feel in your element, like a bird returning from migration, and start to engage with the crowd some more. Start having them clap along to the beat when the bridge starts up for the third song. Have them jumping a little to the chorus of the fifth.

“Ain’t she great?” Pansy encourages from them after the sixth song.

The strangers who’ve accumulated to see you, now a little buzzed, applaud and whistle. You feel your face flush hot. At the back, Kiara cheers the loudest, accompanied by several guys’ voices who holler. You look over and it’s then that you meet his eyes. JJ Maybank.

The nerves hit you full force.

Oh God.

Oh God.

How the hell are you supposed to sing another song knowing that he’s watching you? That someone who looks like that is listening to you sing your stupid little love-sick, fantasy-formed songs? You knew he was friends with Kie, but you didn’t think he’d actually show up.

You consider pretending to faint, but that’ll probably be more humiliating than just powering through. To distract yourself, you duck down to take a sip of water from your bottle.

“Come on,” you whisper, closing your eyes. Just one song left, and then you’re home free and can hide under your sheets for a week. Maybe two.

“This next one is mostly me and my girl,” Pansy announces, nodding to you as you rise back to stand. “We’re gonna bring it down a minute, alright? I wanna see lots of loved up couples slow dancing, you hear?”

There’re some chuckles. You’re always in awe of how easily she interacts with the crowd. Pansy begins to pick out the melody on her strings, turning to face you. She smiles reassuringly, nodding to count you in. The anxiety melts away as the words line up ready in your head. Taking a breath, you turn back to the microphone.

“I wither within when I’m without. Baptised in sin and blessed with doubt.”

From the corner of your eyes, you see a phone torch lift into the air. Then you see more and more people do the same, until there’s a powerful white glow shining on yourself and Pansy. You let out a small, bashful giggle. Through the phones, you spot Kiara again, nodding along to the beat and swaying. She’s got an easy smile on her face. You can’t help but glance your eyes to JJ, who’s at her side. His arms are crossed over his chest, face nearly stoic, but he’s swaying too. Looks almost deep in thought. Before he can clock that you’re looking at him, you flit your eyes back to the wall.

“There’s always someone, I’m tryna live up to. I can never get to you. You always seem closer, in the rear view…”

As the song goes on and your voice sings out, your eyes slip shut again. You sink into the words and let your mind drift into thoughts of romance and love. It had never been all that present in your life. Talking to strangers in the chance that they might be your friend was terrifying enough; if you find them attractive, then it’s game over. You practically become mute from nerves. That left you pretty lonely, romantically and otherwise. Besides, guys didn’t tend to go for girls who could barely spit out a sentence in a group project and are as often seen at a kegger or house party as a dodo bird. At least, not the type of guys you liked.

The ending of the song starts to build; Mike picks out a steady beat on his bass. You slowly begin to clap on every other beat. Gradually, the crowd joins in as the melody from Mike continues. Once enough people have joined, you decide to pick up the lyrics.

“You love me. I love you. You don’t love me anymore, I still do. I’m sorry. I’m trying. I hate it when you catch me crying.”

One the final lyric, Benny’s joining in, Pansy in tow. The big finish arrives, the crowd stopping their clapping to whoop and bash their heads to the heavy beat. You repeat the lyrics again, finding your grin once more at the sight of everyone having fun (save for some dwellers and shoe-watchers on the outskirts).

“I hate it when you catch me crying.”

The song comes to an abrupt end. Pansy lets her last note ring out. When the crowd cheers and applauds, you laugh bashfully into the microphone, your face so hot that you worry it might explode.

“Thank you,” you manage out with a smile.

“We’ve been The Wallflowers! Follow us on Spotify and Instagram! Good night!” Pansy shamelessly promotes, waving with both hands in farewell.

You take an awkward bow, Benny waving nervously from behind the drum kit, and then Kiara’s dad is flicking on the main lights. The chatter of the crowd soon kicks up now that you guys are done playing, and Kie’s dad switches back on the usual playlist that buzzes through the restaurant to fill the background’s quiet. You turn to Pansy to find her beaming, practically vibrating on the spot with excitement. She ambushes you and Mike in a group hug.

“You guys did amazing! We fucking rocked! Holy shit! We’re playing here all the time!”

You laugh at her ways, hugging her back tentatively. You’d never been the best with physical affection, which was a perfect match for Pansy, who didn’t seem capable of doing anything without a bear hug.

“It was pretty rad,” Mike agrees, nodding. Cool and calm as ever.

Benny emerges from behind the drums, shaking his head of ginger hair out of his eyes. “I think we sounded alright, yeah,” he says, smiling at you.

“Alright? We sounded fucking amazing!” Pansy screeches.

You flush with embarrassment. “I could’ve hit the note a bit better on—”

“Oh, would you guys stop it and just enjoy the moment!” Pansy berates, pulling back to mirthfully roll her eyes. “The truth is we sounded great, and you know it.”

“She’s right!” Kiara calls from below.

You turn your head and smile at her. Pansy nods in approval, pulling Mike and Benny into a conversation, as you climb down to talk to Kiara.

“You liked it?” you ask.

“Are you kidding? You guys are awesome!”

“Thanks,” you laugh, reluctant to accept the compliment.

The place is starting to fill out now that the gig and serving is done. A few people linger to chat and discuss the show, but most filter out the front and back doors. Gradually, it gets easier to hear the reggae music through the speakers.  

“You’ve gotta meet the gang before we leave! Come on,” Kiara says as your chatter about music dies down.

Before you can register her words, she’s grabbing at your wrist and guiding you outside to where the boys are loitering. Your meek protests fall on deaf ears and soon you’re face to face with the trio. Kiara announces your name proudly, as if presenting an award, and you awkwardly wave, barely making eye contact with any of them. Least of all JJ.

“Hey,” John B smiles. He has a nice smile. Friendly and warm. “I’m John B. This is Pope-”

“-You guys sounded great, by the way,” Pope says to you. You feel overwhelmed by the praise and vaguely nod in thanks, hopefully smiling as you do.

“-And JJ.”

At his name, you find yourself looking up at him. He’s taking a hit of his vape and offers you a smile, then he holds out his fist to bump yours. It takes you too long to clock what he means. By the time your fist hits his, he’s halfway retracted his own. It’s already a mess. Oh God. Maybe that spilt-beer puddle on the table is deep enough to drown yourself in.

“I liked that last song.”

You blink out of your panic-filled haze and into his eyes. “The last one?”

“Yeah. The slower one that goes all loud at the end? What’s it called?”

“Rear view.”  

He bobs his head, the silence stretching out. Say something else. When you wrote it, maybe. Before your brain can catch up to formulate anything else outside of your blunt response, JJ’s taking another hit of his vape.

“Well…It’s a good song.”

“Thanks,” you cloddishly say.

Oh God. It’s terrible. It’s painful. It’s…

“You wanna come back to the chateau and hang out?” John B wonders.

“The chateau?”

“It’s just this dumb nickname for John B’s house,” Kiara says.

“Hey!”

“You wanna?” she asks, ignoring him.

“Oh, um…”

You glance back inside The Wreck, through the window, seeing you friends chatting animatedly. Benny’s smiling, which is always a good sign. Then you look back to Kiara and her friends. The Pogues, as she often called them. Your eyes fall on JJ last. He isn’t looking at you, instead out to the distance, as if waiting to leave. Yep – you blew it. Good job.

“I’ll pass,” you say, tone apologetic. “Need to talk with my band.”

“Oh. Well, let us know if you change your mind,” Kie smiles, recovering easily.

You nod and accept her offer of a hug. Then you’re walking back into the restaurant, ungainly waving goodbye to her friends. John B and Pope wave back, and JJ nods his head at you in farewell.

As soon as you’re out of ear shot, you look down at the floor and sigh.

Whispering to yourself, you can’t help but say, “good job, me.”

~*~*~*~*~*

The fishing supply shop you’d stumbled upon was more like a shack. There was a mom-and-pops feel to it; a hand painted sign that creaked when it swung in the breeze (the lingering presence of spring, fighting to stay before summer would cast it out). You push through the door, hearing the chime of the bell, and look down at the list your dad had given you. Looking back up to the rows of goods, you feel as if everything is spelt in Spanish. Sighing, you go to start searching for the things on his list. It doesn’t help that he’s been wonderfully vague: lures, hooks, bait. You look at some of the boxes and take one down to inspect the label better. You’re pretty sure these are hooks…

“Hey, you’re Kie’s friend, right? That chick in the band?”

Assuming somebody’s talking to you, you look up, to the right, and come eye to eye with JJ. Your mouth instantly goes dry like the Sahara.

“Yeah,” you say. You’re trying to smile but it’s like the muscles in your face have gone lax. Why are you so Goddamn inept sometimes?

“I’m JJ,” he says, fixing his cap. “We met at The Wreck?”

“No, I know,” you tell him. You don’t mean for it to sound rude – merely stating a fact that of course you know who he is – but through your nerves, it sounds clipped. Like he’s bothering you.

JJ nods, a little awkward himself now. “No, yeah, of course.”

Just as you’re willing up the guts to apologise for your hopeless social skills, JJ’s filling the silence once more.

“You fish?”

“What?”

“Do you like fishing?”

What a weird question. “No.”

“Oh,” he says. He glances around. “Then…Why are you in a fishing shop?”

Oh. Yeah, duh.

“Oh, my dad does,” you say, lifting the list to show him. JJ’s eyes skim it briefly and he nods, quietly letting out an ‘ah’. “Asked me to pick some stuff up for him.”

Oh God, shut up.

“Well, this place is a pretty good spot to go for your gear,” he tells you.

“Do you fish?”

And, good job, you’ve managed to ask a normal question.

JJ smiles and it seems as if he’s relaxing into himself again. It makes you feel easier too; it’s always painful when your awkwardness rubs off on others, like the spreading of a disease.

“Yeah, I do. My whole family were fishermen and stuff. Can’t remember a time when I wasn’t fishing,” JJ says.

Whilst you prepare yourself to ask more about his family, and what sort of fishing he does, JJ’s flashing you a friendly grin and nodding down to your list.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Hope you find everything.”

“Oh. Yeah, thanks. Um, you too,” you reply.

You final have enough control of yourself to smile at him. It might be your delusions contorting your perception, but you’re sure JJ’s smile grows a bit brighter when you do.

Turning away, you go back to staring hopelessly at the box in your hand. The front is raving about the benefits of this style of hook, reeling of jargon as if trying to impress a university professor. It’s useless. Not only are your thoughts now hijacked by overthinking everything you said in that conversation, and the fact that JJ Maybank spoke to you on his own agenda; you still haven’t learnt anything about fishing in the last five minutes. You’ll just get a receipt and your dad can come back and fix whatever mess you make of this seemingly easy errand.

“You gonna buy those?”

JJ’s still there, stood at your side. He’s looking at the box from over your shoulder. You look up to him.

“Yeah?”

“Those ones are pure crap. No, no, you want the good stuff,” JJ tells you, shaking his head.

He takes the box from your hand and replaces it with another, from a higher shelf. Tapping on the cover, he begins to read off some of the hooks’ perks (who knew there could be so many?).

“I mean, they’re a little more expensive but you get more bang for your buck, you know? Those other ones’ll snap after like four days on the water.”

When he looks back into your eyes, he must see the blank look behind them. He laughs. “Just trust me on this.”

“Okay,” you say, finding a laugh.

“Here, what else’s on your list?” JJ asks, taking the scrap of paper from you.

You don’t complain. Being in his orbit feels like you’re seeing the earth from space; even if it’s just him helping you buy fishing gear, there’s no way you’re going to pass up this opportunity.

JJ keeps talking, jovial in tone, casually dropping reams of information and tips about fishing. As he starts moving around the store in search of items, you blindly follow, nodding along, though only half understanding what he’s saying. It just feels nice to hear him talk. He has a nice voice; one that easily brings a smile. There’s the strong, Carolina accent that shines through, intermixed with slang that’s robust on the cut.

“So, what band are you guys a tribute for?” JJ wonders as he inspects different wires.

“What’d you mean?”

“You know, like who’s music are you playing? I haven’t heard it before.”

“They’re originals,” you say. His head whips around, eyes wide.

“No way.”

“Yeah. I, uh, wrote the songs myself,” you admit, modest.

“You wrote them? That’s insane!”

“Well, they’re not Fleetwood Mac or anything—”

“—Well, nobody’s Fleetwood Mac, for starters,” JJ interrupts, turning back to the wires. “And not anybody can write songs. I sure as hell can’t. Fucking hopeless with words.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you laugh. You feel as if you’re inching out of your shell, the longer you talk to him.

His shoulders, strong and built, shrug under the cotton of his tee shirt. On the back, there’s an emblem: Kildare County Boating Supplies. “Born with my foot in my mouth. Never know when to shut the hell up, half the time.”

“Oh, same here.”

JJ laughs. He glances over his shoulder at you. The crinkles on his cheeks from his smile give him a boyish look of innocence. “Oh, you’re funny, huh?”

“Not usually,” you reply.

“Nah, I doubt Kie could be friends with someone who didn’t have a sense of humour,” JJ lightly argues.

He seems to have decided on a wire and picks up a box, handing it to your building pile stacked up in your arms.

“I think we got it all,” he says, checking over the list. It’s fickle how the term ‘we’ makes your heart stutter.

The two of you head to the counter, gently dumping all the items. You request two bags, knowing you’ll need as much help as you can get to lug it all home. JJ’s still lingering by you. The cashier begins to scan through the items.

“Oh, shit,” JJ mumbles, grinning. He’s looking at a pocketknife on the counter; picks it up to inspect it.

Confused, you ask, “what is it?”

“It’s the latest model,” JJ says.

“There’s different models of pocketknife?” you hear yourself ask.

JJ chuckles, still inspecting it. You notice how the cashier is eyeing him up, like he might just slip it into his pocket, then and there. He probably doesn’t catch the glare you shoot at him.

“These guys make the best ones. My dad gave me his old one and it lasted for like ten years. Damn.”

Your eyes glance down to the box he took it from, checking the price. It’s more than what you’d pay for a pocketknife, but apparently it seems to be worth the money. JJ eventually puts it back.

“That everything for you, dear?” the cashier checks.

JJ seems to take it as his cue to leave. Shoving his hands in his short pockets, he flashes you a smile and a nod.

“Well, I’ll see you around, Kie’s friend.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“Course,” JJ shrugs. He nods to the cashier in farewell, too, then heads out the door.

Looking to the cashier, who’s still waiting for a reply, then down to the box of pocketknives, you smile, overcome with an idea. After you’ve paid up and packed your bags as quickly as you can, you thank the cashier before darting out the store, glancing around for JJ. He hasn’t gone very far, walking towards the docks. You remember Kie telling you about Pope’s dad Hayward, and how he lived on the waterside, and you put two-and-two together. Before the small bout of adrenaline can leave, along with your confidence, you jog over to him, calling his name.

JJ turns around and smiles, a little confused. “You good?”

“Here,” you say, digging about in your short pocket to retrieve the knife. You hold out the pocketknife to him, hands shaking a bit. “As a thank you.”

He looks down at it. Then, he begins to frown. “Why’d you do that?”

“As a thanks,” you repeat. You’re still holding it out. Heart pounding in your ears. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. You overstepped. He was just being helpful and you made it weird, like always.

JJ scoffs, shifting his weight. He glances off to the water. Looking down at you, jaw somewhat tense, he says, “I don’t need your charity, you know?”

Frowning, you reply, “it’s not charity. It’s…A sign of gratitude, I guess?”

He eyes the knife like it might be laced with Anthrax. Okay, this is getting slightly ridiculous.

“Look, will you just take it? I’ve got no use for it, so it’ll just go to waste if you don’t,” you say impatiently.

JJ’s eyes flash up to yours. There’s a twitch in his cheek, threatening a smirk. Chuckling quietly, he reluctantly accepts the gift.

“Okay, I will. Uh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, nodding. Good. That was good. The only problem is that now that you’ve done that, the interaction has come to a natural end, and you have nothing else to say to fill the gaps. “Well…Have a good day.”

Chuckling, he nods, waving you off. “You too.”

The moment your back’s turned to him; you exhale out the lingering nerves. Your smile doesn’t fade, turning almost giddy from the fleeting conversations you’d shared. It’s brought you too much joy that JJ just accepted a pocketknife off you; it’s practically pathetic. Nonetheless, you don’t berate yourself too much. Instead, you walk home, replaying the way JJ chuckled and smiled down at you when you let your patience slip.

~*~*~*~*~*

As an introvert, you’ve managed to find your way out of plenty of social gatherings. Award ceremonies? Stomach bug. Presentations? Stomach bug. House parties? You guessed it – stomach bug. Keggers? Any ideas…?

One gathering that you’ve never been able to get out of - nor have ever been able to say no to, out of guilt - are birthdays. Any sort of birthday celebration, no matter how big or how small, and you feel have to go. You almost feel like it’s your duty to. Friends were a rarity in your life, like finding emeralds and gold, and you didn’t want to risk it by making it seem like you didn’t care about someone’s special day. Even if parties made your stomach feel like it was filled with led and you barely opened your mouth in fear that you might puke with anxiety, you force yourself to any that you’re invited to.

For Pansy, it was always a house party. Some big, ridiculous do that her rich parents would throw. Streamers and themes and a hired DJ. A huge, ridiculous cake that barely got eaten and party favours that were practically insulting in price. She didn’t care all that much about it, but she was an only child and boy do rich parents like to spoil their only off-spring. It was sort of sweet though. Her parents weren’t trying to buy her affection: they genuinely did care for her, and just wanted her to have a good time. So, when Pansy’s birthday rolled around, at the beginning of June – just after school finished up for summer – you get the dreaded text:

Birthday bash on Friday night: be there or else.

A knife emoji, and then…

Love ya!

You groan and toss your head back, flopping onto the pile of pillows on Kiara’s bed. Her phone chimes a moment later and, after reading the text, she flashes you a pitiful smile.

“Pansy’s birthday party?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“It’ll be fun!”

Unconvinced. “Mhm.”

“Come on. We can get ready together and pre-drink together and get drunk together. It’ll be great.”

Easing yourself up reluctantly, you cock a brow at her. “Really?”

“Yes! It’ll be great,” she repeats, firmer as if in promise. The ding of her phone prompts her to read the second message. You watch as her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh! She invited the Pogues, too.”

“Like the band?” you ask tiredly, rubbing your forehead.

You wouldn’t be all that surprised. One year her parents managed to bag ‘The 1975’ for a birthday-shoutout-video-call. Don’t ask.

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Like JJ, John B and Pope: The Pogues. Dumbass.”

Your eyes shoot open.

JJ.

Hoping to sound nonchalant, you watch Kie type away on her phone as you ask, “well, you don’t think they’ll wanna go though, right? I mean, didn’t you say they hate Kooks?”

There’s the telling whoosh noise that a text has been sent. She looks up at you and shrugs. “They probably will. They might hate Kooks but they love open bars.”

Great. No, yeah, that’s great. You’ll run into JJ again and the conversation will be doubly as awkward and you’ll make a fool of yourself, like you always do, and you’ll go drown in the pool that’s overflowing with your tears of embarrassment. No, great. That’s just—

“Great.”

The theme for Pansy’s seventeenth turns out to be 2000s. She’s dressed up as Regina George from Mean girls – the scene where she has circles cut out of her white vest top, showing through her pink bra. She sends you a picture of her costume on the night, whilst you’re at Kiara’s getting ready.

“Woah. She looks amazing,” you grin, showing the phone to Kie.

She’s sat on the bed, working on her eye make-up. Momentarily glancing away from the mirror to check your phone, she smiles and gives her mark of approval. You text Pansy back, gushing over her costume, and then follow it up with a blatant lie: so excited for tonight! Tossing your phone to the side, you look in the mirror and get back to working on your hair, portioning it in two to style it into pigtails. You’ve dressed up as one of the Powerpuff Girls. Namely, Bubbles: the sweet, quiet, innocent one. In many ways, you feel as though you are Bubbles. The costume’s fun and reminds you of childhood.

“John B just text me,” she tells you, glancing down at her phone that’s pinging away. “Says they’re still at the chateau and will probably show up later. I reckon we’ll be ready to leave for Pansy’s in ten.”

“Are all of them going?” you ask. You’re not sure what you want her answer to be.

“Yep. Even Pope,” she says.

You look back into the mirror and swallow your nerves. It’ll be fine. It’ll be great, just as Kiara promised. Reaching for your bottle of cider, you down the rest and finish getting ready.

It takes about fifteen minutes to walk to Pansy’s house from Kiara’s. The two of you start up the path towards the house. It’s impressive. Modern and ageless, with contemporary finishes and floor-to-ceiling windows on nearly every wall. Painted exuberant white, the place stands as a monument to money. There’s a fountain in the front garden and an electronically powered front gate that’s been left open for the night. The two of you head up the stairs to the front door. Music is pulsing, sneaking out the house and into the night, and you take a breath in preparation. Kie seems to notice and takes your hand, smiling and giving it a squeeze of reassurance. With that, you remind yourself why you’re putting yourself through this hell. Pansy’s birthday.

It's rammed and loud and overstimulating in every way. There’re couples making out on the coach and friends dancing near a speaker and two guys arguing loudly by the window. Empty cups and bottles, an abandoned bong on the coffee table (another perk of having rich parents: they let you do whatever you want). Somebody’s already passed out on the stairs, with other party goers narrowly dodging them as they rush off to the bathroom or in search of a quiet room. Kiara guides you through the house, through the kitchen, in search for Pansy. Your hand never leaves hers. The pounding of the bass is so loud that it’s hard to tell what’s your heartbeat and what isn’t.

You spot Mike first. He’s lent on the counter of the island, chatting to a girl you don’t recognise.

“Hey, Mike,” you say, finding your smile from the familiar face. He looks to you and grins.

“Hey!” his low voice booms. He wraps you in a quick hug. “Wasn’t sure if you were gonna come?”

“You know me,” you smile, queasy. “Anything for Pansy.”

“Amen,” he nods, tipping his beer in approval. He greets Kie, having met her at The Wreck the other week.

“You know where Pansy is?”

“Out back, last time I checked,” he replies, nodding to the backdoor.

You thank him and drag yourself and Kie out the patio doors and into the garden. Scanning the area, you try and spot your friend. There’s people swimming in the pool, cannonballing in, and others dancing to the music. Someone throwing up. A bong being passed around. Beer pong and drinking Jenga and…It’s chaos. Keep it together.

Then, you spot Pansy. She’s lent against the shed, chatting away to a half-arsed Juno. Walking over, the moment she clocks you and Kiara, the other conversation is ditched. Throwing her arms out – already drunk and probably high – she gives a cheer of your names.

“You made it!”

“Better late than never,” Kiara grins.

You let her hug you; almost have the life squeezed out of you in the process. “Happy birthday, Pansy.”

“Damn right, it’s a happy birthday,” she grins. “Look at this rager!”

 Kiara nods in approval, taking it all in. “Having fun?”

“I am now!” Pansy exclaims. “Maybe now that you’re here, Benny’ll finally show up.”

“Benny’s here?” you ask.

“Mhm. I lost him about five minutes in, though. He’s probably hiding under the stairs, poor thing,” she says, shaking her head. Looking to Kie, she asks, “did the Pogues come along?”

“They should show up at some point,” Kie nods, smiling.

“Oh, yes! Finally, my plan can come into action!” Pansy says. She then gives a laugh that borders on psychotic.

You frown, befuddled. “Your plan?”

“My set-you-up-with-JJ plan? Only been waiting since the fifth grade,” she buzzes.

Your face drops. Your stomach plummets. All your internal organs flop out of your body and land on the floor, with your heart last.

One too many drinks in Pansy, and she casually lets slip of your biggest, most pathetic secret on earth, to none other than one of JJ’s best friends.

“What?” Kiara practically shouts. She gapes at you.

Pansy’s face quickly switches from excitement to dread, as her brain seems to catch up. “Wait…Shit, I wasn’t supposed to say that, was I?”

“Nope,” you say, through gritted teeth.

Hold it together. Hold it together.

“JJ?” Kiara checks. She’s staring at you as if you’ve just done an Irish jig.

You don’t reply. Not sure you can. You swallow thickly and stare down at the floor.

Then, scarily calm, you say, “I think I’m gonna go get another drink.”

Neither of them stops you – Pansy already distracted and Kiara practically in shell-shock – and you slink back into the house. You grab the first thing you find (another bottle of beer) and frantically search for a bottle opener, cracking it open. Downing half of it, you look around for Mike. He’s not where he was stood before. You have no idea where the hell to even start looking for Benny. You finish the bottle and then look for another. In the process, you decide that having a shot of vodka might be alright and take a swig or two right from the bottle. Okay, maybe a little more than a shot.

There’s a hand on your arm, tugging, and it catches your attention.

“There you are!” Kiara sighs in relief. “Look, it’s okay that you have a crush on JJ. If anything, it’s better than okay! It’s kinda sweet! I just wish you’d told me—”

“Kie, please, stop,” you say, shaking your head. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now, alright? Pansy didn’t mean to say that. I don’t…It’s not even true!”

She pulls a face as if to say ‘yeah, right’ but doesn’t argue. “Well…If you ever wanna talk about it—”

“--I really don’t—”

“--But if you ever do! You can, alright?”

She means it. You can hear it in her voice and see it on her face. Sighing, you nod. She smiles at that.

“Look, I’m not gonna tell him, okay? I would never do that,” she assures you. You smile, nodding once more. Your stomach feels like a mosh-pit.

“Good. Now, come on! I promised you a great night and I meant it.”

Kiara ropes you into a game of drinking Jenga. At some point, Pansy joins, then Mike. After three rounds – and two shots to get out of doing dares – you begin to feel weird. It’s then that you realise, as the world becomes fuzzy and your thoughts start to mush, that all the alcohol you’ve been necking is hitting at once.

Oh no.

You excuse yourself to go find the bathroom, hoping to have a moment to pull yourself together, and despite Kiara’s instance you tell her not to follow. You just need a moment alone to calm down your heartrate. Why does it suddenly feel like it’s going to beat out of your chest now? You’ve been to Pansy’s house plenty of times before, but you suddenly feel lost. People are crammed into every room like sardines, all of them strangers, and you can’t grasp your bearings. The alcohol isn’t helping, nor the panic, and the longer your search for a bathroom or an empty space, the more you feel like the walls are closing in. At some point, you end up in a corridor of the house. It’s a little quieter than in the main rooms, a few bodies lining the walls, some girls sat on the floor chatting. The only light is a single bulb hanging above. At the sight of you stumbling down the hall, one of the girls must think you look as bad as you feel.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks.

You nod, trying to smile, but you’re honestly not sure what expression is on your face anymore. The bathroom door is locked. No. The girl is coming up to you, maybe thinking she’s being helpful, but you hate strangers and you hate conversations and you hate parties and

Why did you come?

You’ve spoken about five words to Pansy all night! She’d understand if you didn’t; probably wouldn’t even miss you. Great. Something about that thought has tears stinging your eyes, and the random girl who’s made it her new mission in life to help you is only spurred on. She’s shushing you and it makes it all worse: you’re so embarrassed. If there’s anything you dread more than talking to strangers, it’s crying in front of them. Is this a nightmare?

The sound of your name reflexively has you turning your head. It’s JJ.

“Jesus, you don’t look too good,” he says.

Great.

His eyes flit to the girl uselessly trying to calm you down from your panic attack. He ushers her off you, half-arsedly thanking her, and then he’s guiding you from the hallway and through a door. It’s a bathroom. Maybe the door you’d been trying earlier wasn’t a bathroom? It’s all so confusing. You didn’t even know JJ was here; just assumed the Pogues hadn’t bothered showing up. You suddenly realise that you’re still hyperventilating, in front of your crush of all people, and then you remember that Pansy let slip to Kiara that you have a crush on JJ and…

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” JJ’s saying. He’s frowning at you, concerned.

You’re shaking your head, waving him off. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Sorry. I’m sorry! You can go back to the party!”

That would all be believable if you weren’t gasping out the words. JJ doesn’t listen. He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve spoken. You don’t bother to try again. The ground seems a good place to go. Solid and unmoving. You slide down the bathroom wall and gasp in air. It won’t seem to stay in your lungs, as if fighting to escape, and you start to cry.

JJ’s saying your name in a soothing voice. He’s squatting in front of you, watching as you pull your knees up to your chest. God, this is humiliating.

“We’re gonna play a game, okay?”

A game?

“Yeah, yeah. It’s called the ‘five things’ game, alright?”

“I don’t…I don’t understand…” you cry, shutting your eyes.

Playing a game is the last thing you need right now. You just need to breathe. Why can’t you breathe?

“I’ll go first, alright? I have to name five things beginning with…Gimme a letter,” he says.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You write songs, for Christ’s sake,” he laughs, tone gentle. “Come on. One letter. That’s all I’m asking.”

You sort of want him to shut up, so you scramble through your thoughts. “T.”

“Okay, alright. I have to name five things beginning with ‘T’,” JJ says.

All you can hear is your panting for a while. You feel lightheaded.

“Um…Toothbrush. That’s one. How about…”

You crack open your eyes. He’s looking around the room. You notice his cap’s abandoned on the floor. Move your eyes to his legs, mostly bare save for his shorts, and to his chest.

“Tee shirt,” you offer, breathless. JJ’s head whips around to look at you. He smiles encouragingly.

“Yeah, tee shirt. Okay, three more.”

You begin to glance around the room. Stomach still rising and falling, you try and search for something beginning with ‘T’. It’s suddenly become the most important thing in the world.

“Toilet,” you say as your eyes drift over to it. “And toilet brush.”

“Damn, you’re on a roll,” JJ chuckles. You barely manage a laugh. Your head doesn’t feel as fuzzy anymore. “Just one more.”

It’s then that you realise he’s had a hand on your knee the whole time. Rubbing slow, concentric circles on the skin. You start to focus on the feeling of it, looking down as he does it. He’s gone back to searching the room, as if he’s forgotten he’s doing it.

“Touch.”

JJ frowns, looking back to you, then following your gaze to his hand. His smile is almost shy. “Yeah, that counts. Touch.”

The panic attack has eased off. Your lungs are finally doing their job, filling with air and holding it for longer than a millisecond. Exhaling slowly, closing your eyes, you tilt your head back against the wall.

“Better?” JJ wonders.

“A little. Thank you, for helping I mean,” you say.

“Don’t mention it. I know how shit it feels. I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks,” JJ tells you.

There’s a shuffle as he moves to sit on the floor. He retracts his hand from your knee and you immediately miss the feel. Opening your eyes, you look at him with a frown.

“You have?”

“Mhm,” he nods. “John B had to calm me down almost everyday at one point. It sucked.”

“Is that where you learnt that trick?”

“Yeah,” JJ says, offering a small smile. “It’s a good distraction.”

You nod. You’ve never tried it before. Always found that you could ground yourself with your breathing, but everything out there was too much, too crazy, for you to focus. Correcting how you sit, crossing your legs (the skater skirt smoothing out over your thighs), you sigh and hang your head.

“I hate parties.”

JJ chuckles. “No kidding.”

You snort, shaking your head.

“But hey, least you look pretty though.”

You look up. There’s very little energy left in you to overthink what he’s just said. No room left to panic.

“I do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I like your costume.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. Your fingers move down to mess with the hem of your skirt.

“Who’re you meant to be?”

You can’t help but bark out a laugh. “How can you like my costume when you don’t even know who I am?”

JJ laughs, after seemingly being taken aback by your outburst. “I dunno. I like that skirt on you.”

“I’m Bubbles. From the Powerpuff Girls,” you tell him as your laughter dies down.

Realisation flashes across his face as quick as a comet darting through the sky. “Oh! Oh shit, of course!”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Hell yeah!” JJ grins. “Mojo Jojo was my favourite character as a kid!”

“Ugh, he’s iconic,” you groan happily, tossing your head back.

“That one episode, when he gets told off by the professor,” JJ reminisces excitedly.

“I loved that one!”

The two of you laugh.

“Who’re you meant to be?”

“Um…Well, I didn’t get the memo it’s a costume party,” he admits with a wince, smiling.

“You could say you’re from…The Hangover?” you offer after a moment’s thought.

JJ cringes. “That might be worse than just saying I forgot to wear a costume.”

You laugh, nodding. “True.”

There’s a brief moment where the two of you just look at one another, smiling contently. You always knew JJ was pretty (as Pansy so graciously revealed to Kie earlier), but up close, under the white light of the bathroom, he’s gorgeous. A cute smile, shining eyes. The most perfect jawline that you could write reams of songs about just on its own.

“Think this is the most you’ve ever spoken to me,” JJ points out.

Your smile turns solemn, nodding. When you reply, you talk quietly, as if revealing a secret.

“I’m not very good at talking to people.”

“Can I ask you a question, then?”

“Mhm.”

“Why’d you come to this house party? Doesn’t really seem to be your scene,” JJ asks.

Nodding, affirming his theory, you shrug and look down at his feet. He’s wearing black boots, shiny and heavy.

“It’s Pansy’s birthday, and she’s always been a big birthday fan. She’s one of my closest friends and she’s always there for me; always has my back. So, I figure, I can hack one night of the year at a stupid, over-the-top party for her. And usually I can…But I guess, I just couldn’t tonight.”

As you finish talking, you lift your head to take in JJ’s reaction. He’s nodding, a small smile still on his face.

“You’re a good friend.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You are,” he affirms. Your face goes warm and you shrug. Laughing, he adds, “you’re also shit at accepting compliments. I noticed that when we first met after your gig.”

You chuckle. Looking up to the ceiling, you feel your confession bubbling out of you, likely driven by the alcohol. “Yeah, well, all what I remember after the gig is thinking that you didn’t like me.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” you say, chuckling in self-deprecation. You meet JJ’s eyes, see the confusion shining in them. “You sorta seemed uninterested to talk to me. Which is fine, I figured you would be. But after the fishing shop - and now tonight - I’m starting to think I was wrong?”

“Yeah, you’re wrong,” JJ laughs. He’s not laughing at you, though. It’s almost as if he’s laughing at himself.

He rocks his head back and nods at the ceiling, pursing his lips in thought.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like that, at The Wreck. It’s just…Kiara told me you were kinda quiet, before we met, and I’m kind of…not. I didn’t wanna freak you out or anything, so I tried to be more chill. Guess it had the opposite effect though.”

There’s a selcouth feeling in your body when JJ speaks. It’s like something in your chest lurches. In your stomach, there’s a feeling like the butterflies you get before a show, but they’re sweeter and gentler, as if calming down in preparation to cocoon. As if the nerves are fading and you’re desensitised.

He looks back down at you, right into your eyes, and you wonder if he can see into your thoughts. If he can see how much you like him.

“Well, I think we’re friends now, so, no hard feelings,” you tentatively say. JJ cracks a smile, nodding.

“Yeah. We’re friends,” he assures you.

Strange, how something that you thought would bring you so much joy only makes you feel a little bit worse than before.

~*~*~*~*~*

It’s dark in the chateau, the kitchen counter only illuminated by a single orange-hued lamp. You’re halfway measuring out some sugar when you think you hear a noise. The creak of a floorboard. Frowning, you hesitantly start towards the corridor, where the sound’s coming from. Maybe something got in the house? A raccoon?

JJ rounds the corner the same time you do, almost bumping into you. He lets out a yelp and grabs at his heart, the same time you jump back about ten feet.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasps, laughing. “You scared the shit outta me.”

“Sorry,” you smile in apology (as if he hadn’t made you almost crap yourself too).

“Thought you were Big John’s ghost or something,” JJ mumbles, rubbing at his face tiredly.

You frown, walking back to the counter where you’d previously been. “Are you saying I look like John B’s dad?”

“No you- That’s not – You look very womanly-”

He cuts off his rambles with a sigh, shaking his head as he laughs at himself. Running his fingers through his bedhead, he seems to come to a realisation that you’re not usually at the chateau.

“Wait? What are you even doing here? It’s late.”

“Went surfing with Kie. Got tired, took a nap on the pull-out, woke up about ten minutes ago,” you explain, keeping your voice soft as to not wake-up John B.

“Can’t fall back asleep?” JJ asks.

“Wide awake.”

“Damn. Hate when that happens. How come you’re in the kitchen?”

“Thought I’d make brownies,” you shrug. You pick up the box of cocoa powder and the bag of flour, showing them to JJ. “You guys have all the ingredients.”

“God, brownies sound so good right now,” JJ moans, tossing his head back.

Laughing, you go back to measuring out flour with a cup. JJ goes to the fridge. The white light shines bright on his face. There’s the indent of the pillow on his cheek. His eyes are squinting against the light, a little bleary from sleep.

“Come to think, the last time I had brownies, they were these amazing edibles,” he says as he searches for something to take.

“Oh? Were they good?”

“So good,” he says. JJ grabs a carton of juice and hops onto the far counter to sit, taking swigs.

“I probably have enough stuff to bake a batch of edibles too, to be honest,” you offer after a moment’s thought. Looking to him, hands dusted with flour, you ask, “you got enough to spare?”

“Hell yeah!” JJ grins.

Ever since you and JJ bonded at the party, you feel as though there’s been a barrier removed. He isn’t as scary as you thought he would be. Easier to talk to than you imagined.

“I’ve always kinda wanted to try them,” you admit.

“Wait, have you ever smoked before?”

You chuckle down at the bowl, then sarcastically ask, “What do you think?”

“Really?” JJ gapes. “I thought you’d be all for it. It’d probably help you relax and stuff…”

He almost cuts himself off, as if trying to reel in his words. “I…I mean…”

You can’t help but glance to him, face serious as you deadpan, “what do you mean? I’m like the most laid-back person ever.”

JJ’s crystal-clear panic that he’s genuinely offended you has you breaking your façade with a quiet laugh.

“I’m joking. I’m probably the most high-strung person ever. Feel like weed was kinda made for me.”

JJ laughs too, giving a small sigh of relief.

“I’m kinda curious to see what you’re like high,” he tells you.

“Me too. Hopefully it doesn’t have me bouncing off the walls,” you say.

“Nah. That’s coke that’ll do that to you. Hard to imagine you on coke.”

“You tried it?” You wonder, non-judgemental as you ask.

JJ shrugs. He has another swig of juice. The muscle tee he’s wearing hangs lose on his built frame.

“Once or twice. My dad’s sorta a junkie though. Put me off, you know?”

“Shit. I’m sorry,” you softly reply.

JJ hadn’t mentioned his family a lot, but neither had you and neither does anybody. You’d heard the passing news of JJ’s dad being involved in some sort of pharmacy robbery in the county for Oxytocin, but never dug about. It wasn’t any of your business, and the malicious world of medicine and addiction wasn’t some black and white picture like the Kooks at school liked to paint it out to be.

Shrugging it off, clearly not in the mood to get into it, JJ asks, “was that fishing stuff you got for your dad useful?”

“Yeah,” you say. You’ve started on the wet ingredients now: cracking eggs into a measuring jug. “His exact words were, ‘I never knew you had such a gift for fishing’. I think I’m gonna become his fish-fetching-bitch now.”

JJ barks out a laugh. “You know, I never expected you to be funny.”

You roll your eyes as you begin to fold the wet ingredients into the dry. “I’m not.”

“You are. You’re also cute when you bake.”

“Can you not compliment me?” you nervously chuckle. “It makes me uncomfortable. Not cause of you, it’s just…I’m not good with the complimenting thing.”

“Too late. It’s my life’s mission to get you to actually accept a compliment without going all-”

You catch him do an overemphasised impression of you becoming flustered. You scrunch your nose in light-hearted disapproval. He grins at you as he snaps out of the character.

“-You know?”

“Well, I hope you’ve got a long life,” is all you say. “Wanna grab the goods?”

JJ hops off the counter with newfound fever, making you laugh. When he returns, he stands beside you, juice carton ditched to the side. He smells like soap and weed and smoke from the bonfire. You go to grab the plastic bag from him but he pulls it out of reach, looking down at you in disapproval.

“What?”

“This is Kildare’s finest bud,” JJ scorns. He gently places it in your hand. Cupping your fingers around it, he envelopes your hand with his. His touch is warm. “You gotta treat it with care. It’s the meaning of life itself.”

“I thought the meaning of life was enlightenment,” you mumble, distracted. You’re pretty sure your heart might beat out of your chest.

“Meh. Depends who you ask.”

He takes his hand off yours and let’s you open the bag. The smell of marijuana hits, full force. Before you go to mix it in, you need to check the brownie base is up to scratch. You’ve been perfecting your recipe for years. Dipping in a finger, you suck it clean, debating the flavour. Unsure, you grab for the spatula and scoop some batter up, holding it out to JJ without thinking. You’re a little surprised to catch him staring at you.

“Wanna try?”

For once, JJ doesn’t say anything. Just takes the spatula and has a lick. His eyes widen. “Oh my god. That’s so good.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s amazing.”

“I’ve made better,” you find yourself saying, and maybe he has a point about the whole compliments’ thing…

You tip in some of the bud as JJ finishes licking the spatula clean.

“You’re like a triple thread, aren’t you?” JJ says.

As you mix, moving to prop the bowl against your waist, cradled in your arm, you frown.

“A triple thread?”

Listing with the spatula, he says, “She can bake, she can sing—”

“—she’s socially inept,” you sarcastically finish.

“You’re not socially inept,” JJ says. When he dips the spatula back in for a second taste, you don’t bother fighting back. “Just a little quiet, is all.”

“No, no, I’m like a lost cause,” you chuckle. “I’m fine with it, for the most part. I just don’t like not knowing what people are gonna ask me. I get all nervous, thinking I’m gonna make a fool of myself or something. It all just snowballs until it’s easier to just…not try.”

JJ nods, listening, licking the plastic utensil clean.

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe it’s good that you’re a quiet person. Helps balance out the world,” he offers.

“How’d you mean?”

“Like, I’m one end of the spectrum, yeah?” He gestures wildly to one side of the kitchen. “And then you’re the other.”

His theatrics create an imaginary continuum. He lists his friends, labelling them on this make-believe spectrum, doing it in such a way that has you laughing at his antics.

“Think people sometimes forget being quiet isn’t the same as being boring,” JJ thinks aloud.

You smile. It’s a nice way to summarise it. You’re not a rock: you enjoy spending time with friends and you have hobbies and interests. When you feel in control of the situation, you can even tolerate crowds. But when you don’t speak a lot, loiter around at parties or keggers, and get nervous to read in front of a class, people make an assumption that you’re dull. There’s not much coming out of your mouth so there can’t be much going on in your head. It’s almost a relief to hear from JJ, of all people, that not everybody thinks that way. Makes your heart do funny things, as if he didn’t already have enough power over your emotions.

JJ leans in to take one more scoop from the bowl. As he does, his shirt slips forward enough for you to catch a glimpse of a hickey on his collarbone. Fresh purple, not yet bruising. It hurts more than you expect it to. A clear-cut reminder of who he is, and who you’re not, and who you never will be. That JJ sees you nothing more than a friend – Kie’s friend – and that he’d never look your way because…Well, because why would he?

You distract yourself by looking back down into the bowl, continuing to mix.

The two of you finish preparing the brownies and set them to cook in the oven. As you wait, you sit on the opposite counter to him, falling into a conversation about surfing and snacks. He’s fighting for justice for peanut-butter jelly sandwiches whilst you’re battling for the recognition of Nutella sandwiches. It’s easy and comfortable, and as the sun slips into view through the window – its rays chasing up the floorboards – the brownies cook and cool, and you do your best to enjoy the moment and not think about the hickey on his chest.

~*~*~*~*~*

Now that summer had begun and school had ended, it felt the days stretched on for miles. Light mornings and lighter nights. Good weather near daily. The odd hurricane warning and occasional storm to give the water a drink, and then back to beauty. You decided not to waste a minute of it. Most days were spent with you band, writing songs and practising for gigs. Pansy was constantly on the search for new shows and venues that would let you play. Kiara’s parents were already talking about letting you guys do another gig at The Wreck. Benny had taken it on to try and teach you how to play the drums, even though it was halfway hopeless. It meant that you’d been hanging out at his house a lot more. You didn’t mind; liked his company.

Kiara had you hanging out with the Pogues near daily too. You’d become a regular at the chateau, with Pansy sometimes tagging along, and had felt more and more comfortable around all the guys. Especially JJ. Whatever awkwardness that used to linger between the two of you had mostly vanished. He didn’t seem to hold back anymore; being his usual, effervescent self. ‘Young, dumb and broke’, Kie dubbed him.

“Hey, are you listening?” Benny asks you from behind the drum kit.

You look up from your phone, having read a text from Kie. We’ll be at Benny’s in five minutes.

“Just replying to Kie,” you tell him. “I’m going surfing with the Pogues.”

“Surfing? Since when did you like surfing?”

“Since this summer,” you shrug, pocketing your phone. You get up from your spot on the floor and walk around the drum kit, standing by his side.

Benny practised in his garage. His dad had soundproofed the place. Today was a hot one, leaving you no choice but to open the front shutter. The picture-book street he lived on was mostly empty, asides from the odd couples walking their dog or a kid flashing by on their bicycle.

You glance down at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Play it again?”

He smiles up at you and begins to play a beat, lips flattening in concentration. You smile as you watch him play. Some people are born musicians. They have a gift to find rhythm, can escape within it. Benny was one of those people. For someone so quiet, you found it funny how he settled on choosing the loudest instrument.

You nod your head to the beat. Shouting over the kick-drum, you say, “it sounds good! Think Pansy’ll find a good riff for it?”

“I’m more excited to hear your lyrics,” he loudly returns.

Coming up with lyrics hadn’t been any problem as of late. Your inspiration had never been more fruitful, for good and for bad, all thanks to a certain blonde haired boy.

He finished the repetitive rhythm, ending with the hi-hat. As he looks up at you, shaking his ginger hair off his damp forehead, he smiles.

“Your hair looks pretty today,” he tells you.

You take your hand from off his shoulder to touch at it, as if on reflex. “It does?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Thanks,” you say, smiling. “You don’t look to bad yourself, for it being like one-hundred degrees outside.”

Benny’s cheeks shine pink. He looks down at the drum kit in thought. “You wanna give it a try?”

“The drums?”

“Mhm.”

“I thought we’d learnt by now that me and drums don’t mix,” you laugh, shaking your head.

Benny won’t seem to take no for an answer, shoving the sticks into your hands. “Just, give it a try. You’re good at everything.”

“Not true,” you sing-song, but oblige in taking his seat.

Joking around, you tap a beat above your head on the sticks, counting yourself in like a rockstar. Then, you’re stumbling through a simple beat, laughing at your frequent mistakes. Benny’s smiling at you – you can see it in your peripheral – and nodding along as if you’re playing like a pro.

“Yo! Didn’t know Travis Barker lives here?”

At the sound of JJ’s shout, you stop and look up, laughing.

“Yeah. The Kardashian’s are just across the street,” you joke along. Benny comes to stand behind you as the rest of the Pogues walk into the garage.

“I’d believe it. Anything’s possible in Kook land,” John B shrugs.

Pope’s sauntering behind. “You ready to go surfing?”

“Yeah. Just need to grab my bag from the kitchen,” you say.

There’s the sudden feel of Benny’s hands on your shoulders, squeezing gently. He brushes some of your hair off one of them as he replies. “I’ll go grab it for you.”

Blinking away the surprise, you turn to catch a glimpse of the boy’s back as he darts into the house. That was weird.

Kiara starts talking about the waves they’ve already spotted. You move to stand, looking back to the Pogues to see that JJ’s staring at the door that Benny just went through. His hands are in his short pockets, jaw locked tight, as if he’s annoyed. That makes two weird things.

Walking over to your friends, laughing under breath at a joke John B makes, you nudge your shoulder against JJ’s bicep, hoping to lighten his mood. He looks down at you and smiles, tension somewhat fading. Benny returns with your bag, handing it to you, and you give him a wave farewell. Then, yourself and the Pogues are heading out the garage and into the banged-up Twinkie.

By the time you get to the beach, it’s late afternoon. Sunset is beginning to creep, teasing at the earth by patterning the sky with pink and orange. That doesn’t put the five of you off surfing. Instead, it’s like it spurs you on. Paddling out deeper into the waves, you hear Kiara give a small ‘whoop’ as you all turn to watch John B ride on the water. The rest of you are quick to join. You know how to surf; learnt when you were a kid. Having never had many friends, you didn’t surf all that often. But after meeting Kie – an avid surfer – and now hanging out with the Pogues, you found yourself out on the water more and more.

After an hour or so of surfing, the sky nearing dusk, you and JJ take a moment. JJ sits on his board, floating near you. You look down at your legs, kicking back and forth leisurely in the water.

“You have fun at Benny’s?” JJ asks.

You glance over to him. He’s watching the Pogues surf.

“I guess,” you shrug. “We’re working on some new stuff.”

JJ nods. His wet hair makes the highlights of blonde darker, curling slightly at the ends from the sea salt. It hangs shaggy over his face. Bare back, muscles taught, freckle-kissed from being out all day.

“Why are you acting all weird?” you can’t help but ask.

He looks to you. “I’m not acting weird.”

“Yes, you kinda are.”

“I’m not.”

“JJ, things haven’t been weird with us since the party. I don’t want them to go back to how they were before.”

“It’s not weird!”

“Look, if I did something—”

“You didn’t do anything, alright? It’s all good,” JJ insists. He nods at you, affirmingly, but you can’t shake the feeling that he’s lying.

You sigh and lay on your back on the board. Closing your eyes, you bask in the remnants of sunlight. If he doesn’t want to talk, you won’t force it. You know more than anyone how awful it feels to have words forced out of you.

The moment of bliss is interrupted by the feeling of cold, seawater splashing over you. You gasp, sitting up in shock. JJ’s laughing his ass off, hands on his chest. You glare through a smile and shake your head.

“Oh, you’re in for it, Maybank.”

His laughter doesn’t cease. He’s looking to you again, quirking a brow. “Oh, am I?”

“Uh huh,” you grin. You kick a splash at him, barely making enough to cover his legs.

“That was pitiful.”

“Shut up,” you chide.

“You Kooks can’t do anything right.”

With that, you’re jumping off your board and swimming over to his. He doesn’t have time to paddle away. You come to a stop by the side of his board and splash at him from up close, getting him perfectly in the face. He winces, laughing, spluttering out some water that seeps into his mouth.

“That’s cheating!”

You roll your eyes and grin, hoisting yourself onto his board. He starts to protest through his laughs, moving to wrestle you off, and in the process, you end up pulling him into the water with you. The two of you emerge, laughing, drenched like drowned rats. You brush your hair out of your face and wipe the water out of your eyes. When you open them, blinking past the sting of the salt, JJ’s watching you. There’s a strange look on his face, one that you think you might’ve seen before. The longer you look at him, the shadow of a smile resting comfortably on your sun-kissed cheeks, the easier you find to place it. From the gig, during the last song, when he seemed almost absent in thought.

Before you can dwell much longer, JJ seems to snap himself out of his haze. He shakes his hair of the water and pulls himself back onto his board.

“We should probably start heading back to shore,” he says.

That was weird.

You frown but don’t argue. Returning to your board, you listen as JJ hollers that the two of you are heading back to land, and then you both start to paddle. The gang soon follows. Wading out the water, carrying your board, the five of you head to where you’d dumped your stuff. JJ makes quick work of building a fire. Pope and Kiara dip into the snacks and drinks you’d brought, passing them around. You dig about in one of the bags for some water, instead coming out with a Uke. The stickers on it hint at it being Kie’s. Hanging onto it, you look around and decide to take the empty spot on the sand next to JJ. The water from your wet hair dribbles down your back. In the embers, you feel yourself beginning to dry.

JJ hands you a cider, taking the cap off using the pocketknife you bought him. You have a sip.  

“That was a pretty good surf,” Kie says, leaning back on her forearms.

Pope’s taken out his book, using his hoodie as a makeshift pillow to sit against as he reads.

“Just think tomorrow, we get to do it all again,” John B grins.

Kie clinks the neck of her bottle with his. “Here’s to that.”

Sand working as a makeshift bottle holder, you’ve taken to picking out random notes on the uke, absentmindedly tuning it.

“What you up to tomorrow?” JJ asks.

You look up at him. He’s put his cap back on; a green one, worn around the edges of the beak.

“Chilling out at home and practising, I think. Pansy managed to get us a gig at the June-Jam.”

“Wait, isn’t that kinda a big deal?” Kiara says. She must’ve been eavesdropping.

You shrug. “It’s only a fifteen-minute slot.”

“But the June-Jam Fair?”

“Yeah, folks from all over the county come out for that,” John B agrees, smiling.

“My dad’s setting up a shop there,” Pope tells you, looking up from his book. “If you guys need a snack, he’ll hook you up for free.”

“Thanks,” you smile, grateful.

“When is it?”

“Couple weeks’ time.”

“We’re coming,” Kiara declares. You chuckle, flustered and flattered at once.

“You don’t have to.”

“Well, we are, so…”

“You gonna play any of the new stuff you’ve been working on?” JJ wonders.

“Maybe,” you say. Fingers still chipping away at the strings, you shrug. “Got a few ideas that’re coming together.”

“Gonna play my favourite?”

“Of course,” you say. Rear view. He’d mentioned several times since hanging out with you how much he liked that song.

JJ sighs and moves to rest his head on your thighs. You don’t complain. Feel your heart stammer at having him so near, so comfortable in your presence. He takes his pocketknife out and begins to mess with it. The campfire light reflects off the blade as it zips in and out of sight.

John B and Kie have fallen into a conversation of their own and Pope is lost to the world of fiction.

“Why’d you like that song so much? I’ve written better ones,” you ask JJ.

He shrugs. Tips his cap over his face, as if taking a nap. “Just makes me think of things. I like the lyrics.”

“What kinda things?”

“Family things, maybe? Maybe not,” JJ vaguely replies. You hum, nodding.

You stare at the crackling fire. Small sheds of burnt up wood spit off into the air, fading away like dust, hiding into the smoke. There’s the cosy smell it churns up, tinted with the sea water that’s coated your skin. The rustle of movement has you looking back down to JJ, watching him retrieve a blunt and his lighter. He sighs. Balancing the joint between his lips, he flicks the lighter to life. On the metal of it is his carved initials. JJ. As you watch him take a drag, overcome with the smell of weed, you wonder how your life lined up in a way to end up here. Fifth grade you would have a fit if she knew you were hanging out with JJ Maybank. Hell, current you isn’t far off doing the same.

He's so effortlessly pretty. Maybe it’s because he has an aura about him that he doesn’t care what people think. Self-assured and light – all that you envy. There’s the faded colouring of a bruise on the apple of his cheek from a scruff he got into at a kegger the other night. The thought of the kegger that you didn’t attend makes your head stammer.

It seems whenever you let yourself fade into the fantasies of wondering what it might be like to have JJ as more than a friend (if he were to ever lean that way towards you), reality always finds a way to sink in. The reality that JJ is the loudest example of an extrovert, and you the spitting image of an introvert. He can pull chicks any time he wants, practically just has to look at them to have them swoon. Lies as if it’s second nature and strikes up conversations with strangers as though they’re lifelong friends. Crowds don’t make him uneasy and he can glide through a house party without needing to hide in the bathroom during a meltdown. He’s funny and charming and likeable.

But you? You spend your evenings sat in your room or on the porch, song writing, living in the safety of a daydream. Baking into the early hours of the morning and socialising with a select few individuals who had the patience to get to know you. Quiet and simple and boring. What the hell would JJ want with that?

Sighing, you hear yourself strumming out a melody. It seems to have naturally emerged from trial and error of messing with notes. You look down to watch your fingers work. There’s a melancholic undertone to the tune you’ve found, different to the one Pansy had shown you on the guitar, when the song had started to form.

Kiara and John B’s conversation momentarily dwindles at the sound of your playing. You try not to be discouraged, knowing they don’t mind the disturbance. JJ takes another hit of the bud, blowing it out and up into the air. After the chorus, you let the music fade away; the song’s only half-finished.

“That new?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding. You’re looking at the stickers: Animal Rights in a pink, cartoon love heart…

“You’ve got the prettiest voice,” JJ quietly tells you. So quiet, you’re not entirely sure he did say it, or if you’ve contorted the murmurs of John B and Kie’s conversation, and the crackles of the fire, and the slosh of the waves, into something of a fantasy.

But, when you look down to him, he’s got this vacant smile on his face. “I’m real glad Kie introduced us.”

“Me too,” you smile.

Under his gaze, you feel how you imagine flowers do when the sun allows them to bloom. It’s a blissful rarity, to be affected by someone in such a way. Overwhelming, even. You force yourself to look away, towards the fire.

It hurts too much to stare at something you can’t have.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The June-Jam Fair comes around faster than you expect. It’s like being caught off guard like a lorry switching lanes without indicating. You only feel half prepared when you and the band are loading up Benny’s dad’s van.

“Who packed the back-up wires?” Pansy worries.

“I did,” Mike grunts, lifting one of the amps into the hold.

“Microphone stand?”

“Got it,” you say, sliding in a box of electronics.

“Okay, then, I think that’s everything,” she mumbles.

She’s spent the last ten minutes running through a mental list of every piece of musical equipment to ever exist. You wouldn’t be surprised if on the way to the fair, she starts listing off all the ways the show could go wrong (though that does seem more Benny’s style): guitar string breaking; microphone stops working; nuclear strike…

It’s hard to believe that the gig at The Wreck was three months ago, now. You’d spent the majority of the previous months hanging out with the Pogues, finding it hard to fathom how you killed the hours before knowing them.

As the four of you load into the van, with you and Benny in the front, Mike takes control of the aux. As him and Pansy sing along, venting out their pre-show nerves, you strike up conversation with the ginger haired boy. He’s been quiet – quieter than usual – with his fingers tapping on the steering wheel, a drummer’s habit.  

“I feel like I haven’t spoken to you in ages,” you half-laugh, somewhat awkward. “Summer’s going so fast.”

“Well, you dip at the end of nearly every band practise to hang out with your new friends, so,” Benny grumbles.

He seems mad about it, more than you expected him to be.

“I don’t ‘dip’, I just head-out,” you say.

“Yeah. All the time,” Benny mumbles.

Frowning, you say sincerely, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was bothering you guys so much. I just like hanging out with the Pogues. They’re fun.”

Benny sighs, shaking his head. “No, it’s cool. It’s just…I just missing having you around, is all.”

“But, I am around. I still come to band practise. Hell, we all got breakfast the other day.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says, shaking his head once more. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s messing with our friendship then it does matter, Benny,” you say.

You see him debate whether to expand or not. In the end, he does. As he speaks, he looks at you.

“I miss me and you hanging out, is what I mean.”

Your lips part. Oh. “Well, we can still do that.”

“We can?”

“Yeah, of course,” you smile. “How about tomorrow we go for food or something?”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Why not tonight?” he wonders, looking back to the road.

“I’m hanging out with the Pogues tonight,” you say, apologetically. “JJ and Kie and everyone.”

“JJ,” Benny repeats. He says it under breath, in a scoff, like he didn’t mean to let it slip.

You frown. “What? Don’t you like him?”

“No, yeah, he’s…He’s a character,” Benny settles on, giving you the briefest of looks as he replies. “I just don’t see why he’d wanna hang around with you so much.”

You try and ignore the sting of his words, digging into your chest like the horn of a thistle. “What’d you mean?”

“You two barely have anything in common. I just find it kinda weird how you get along so well,” Benny explains. His voice is always gentle, soft and non-demanding, but somehow it doesn’t lessen the blow. “You talk about him all the time. All the dumb shit you get up to. Not to mention how much weed you’ve been smoking with him. Just find it weird how you’re suddenly the type of person who gets along with JJ Maybank.”

“Well, I just…am,” you say, shrugging. Off put from the conversation, you look out the passenger window.

“I know you like him.”

Crap. Your stomach flips. “No, I don’t.”

“Of course you do,” Benny says, laughing. “Who doesn’t? He’s an attractive guy, I’m not stupid. He’s an adrenaline junky and a bad-boy, and everybody loves a bad-boy, don’t they?”

“He’s not a ‘bad-boy’, Benny. Sides, who actually says that, outside of the movies?” you add, hoping to recover the exchange into something light.

“He’s trouble, is what he is,” Benny tells you. His voice is firm and definitive. The way he says it makes you think back to the fishing shop, and how the cashier was watching JJ like a hawk.

“He’s not trouble,” you reply, trying not to keep your tone softer. “He’s nice.”

“Nice,” Benny scoffs. Licking his teeth, he nods, staring ahead at the road. “Sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

The foul taste from the conversation with Benny doesn’t ease up for the rest of the journey. It lingers in your throat as you set-up on stage and comes back, full force, when the Pogues come over to greet you. Wish you luck for the show. The rough feeling of JJ’s knuckles, and the cold press of his rings, when you fist bump him. How he knows that you don’t like to hug before shows, with your anxiety sky-high. As you sing through the songs, talk to the crowd, work through the nerves that never fully fade, you find yourself looking to JJ more and more. Whenever you do, there’s Benny’s voice in the back of your head, almost judgemental as he repeats the mantra: ‘I just don’t see why he’d wanna hang around with you so much.’

Was he right? Does JJ just like seeing how he can make you nervous? Enjoys watching you squirm and fumble through social interactions, wade through his compliments as gracefully as a paralysed ballet dancer?

No, he’s not mean. He’s kind and he’s soft with you, but not in a way that makes you feel like you’re made of glass. He knows how to joke with you, how to get a laugh from you. Knows how far to push and when to pull back. JJ knows you. He’s your friend. He wants to be your friend. Doesn’t he?

Or did Kie talk to him, after all? He’d said how she’d told him you were quiet before the gig at The Wreck, as if warning him off. After the party, how do you know that she didn’t hunt him down before he bumped into you in the bathroom? That she told him about your pathetic school-girl crush, and it bolstered his ego, and he found himself trapped in this awkward thing of having to be friends with the weird, quiet girl who has an unattainable crush on him…

As your overthinking goes to hell quicker than a penny falling from the Empire State Building, you manage to keep up with the songs and belt out the lyrics. You can’t bring yourself to look at JJ when you conclude on Rear View. Have to close your eyes. The lyrics sting a bit too much. More than they usually do.

The Pogues are waiting at the end of the show.

“That was dope, you guys! Everyone loved it!” Kiara buzzes, high-fiving Pansy.

“Might be our best show yet,” Mike agrees, nodding. He’s packing away his bass.

“We’re gonna head off in about ten minutes or so,” Kie says.

“Pope’s meeting us at the Chateau later. His dad roped him into helping out,” John B tells you.

“You guys are coming right?” Kie asks the four of you.

Mike looks up from his spot near the amp, unplugging wires. “I’m gonna pass. Got a date.”

“You’ve got a date?” Pansy gapes.

“Yeah?”

“With who?”

“This chick I met at your birthday party,” he shrugs. You have a vague memory of seeing him talking to a girl, before you went up to him that night.

“Why are you so secretive, Mike? What other second-lives are you leading?” Pansy teases.

Mike rolls his eyes, giving a covert smiling. “They die with me. I’ll see y’all later.”

As he waves farewell and walks away, Pansy shakes her head, almost impressed. “God bless that weird, strange man.”

“So that leaves three?” John B checks, pointing to you three.

You still haven’t looked at JJ. Pansy answers on your behalf. “Well, us two definitely are. Benny?”

“I’ll pass. I’ve got a curfew,” Benny says.

“Most Kook thing I’ve ever heard,” JJ sniggers.

“Yeah? Well, I’m sure it’s nice having parents who don’t give a shit,” Benny replies sharply.

You frown. Looking to Benny, your eyes are narrowed in confusion.

JJ frowns too, only for different reasons. Staring him down, he stands a head higher.

“What’d you say, princess?”

“Look, man, I’m sorry your dad’s a criminal but I don’t see what that’s gotta do with me.”

JJ’s jaw goes rigid. His body tenses. Anger comes over him suddenly like a hurricane. He takes a step forward, gladly getting in Benny’s face. JJ’s taller, broader, stronger. Benny’s hours spent playing the drums don’t stand a chance in a round with him.

“You wanna say that again, Kook?”

“Guys, come on,” Kie says, trying to step between them.

“You like messing with her, huh? You having fun with it? Like having her gawking after you?” Benny bites back.

His eyes flit to you as he talks. Your heart fractures.

JJ shoves him on the chest. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, man.”

“I know who you are, JJ. Everybody does. You don’t fool me, with this whole good-guy act you’ve got going on with her. You’re messing her up. Getting her to do drugs with you and shit? You’re gonna end up hurting her, like you hurt everybody else. Just what you Pogues do.”

“Benny, what the hell?” you whisper.

JJ isn’t as silent in his anger. He swings a punch, knocking Benny straight in the cheek, sending him backwards against the stage. Some stranger from the fair exclaims when they catch sight. John B immediately steps in between. JJ is reluctant to backdown, standing over Benny, urging him to fight back. When Benny goes to do retaliate, you come to your senses and step up. You grab for his wrist before he can throw his punch.

“Don’t be an idiot, Benny,” you snap.

His eyes flash to you. Something behind them seems to break. He hides it with anger. “You’re taking his side?”

“I’m not taking anybody’s side,” you say, annoyed. “This is pathetic. Both of you.”

As you talk, you let your eyes glance to JJ. He’s breathing heavy, still pissed, but takes a step back at your disapproval.

“We’re at a Goddamn family fair. Both of you need to get your shit together,” you tell them sharply.

You let go of Benny’s wrist and walk off, heart beating out your chest. You hate confrontation. Hate when people fight.

Kiara and Pansy come after you, both of them bitching about how useless boys are. You fold your arms across your chest and blink back tears. No matter what emotion you experience, it always seems to resolve with waterworks. It’s then, as you think back to the altercation, that you hardly recognise the memory of Benny in that moment. It’s so disappointing when you see who people for who they truly are, beneath all the personas, only for them to end up being fickle and fake.

Your feet carry you to the back-ends of the fair, lit up by the remnants of daylight. It’s nothing but storage containers, vans and trucks, the odd horse and animal box from the farm-show. You take perch on the step of one of the empty caravans. Pansy and Kiara sit beside you, the former coiling her arms around you in a hug. You place your head in your hands and let out a few tears. There’s no point fighting them off.

“JJ is so stupid sometimes,” Kie mutters.

“No kidding. And Benny? Pushing at him like that?”

“Asking for a fight.”

“Guys are so dumb,” Pansy concludes with a sigh, shaking her head.

You sit up and wipe your cheeks.

“Where’s your head at, hun?” she asks you, softly.

Shaking your head, you scoff. “I have no idea. I don’t understand why Benny would say things like that. Why he’d lash out at JJ like that, about me.”

“Well, it’s cause he likes you,” Pansy says plainly.

You shoot her a look of pure bewilderment. “What?”

“Girl, it’s so obvious,” she chuckles, sympathy in her gaze. “The guy practically follows after you like a love-sick puppy.”

“She’s right, you know? Even I can see it,” Kie confirms.

You look between the two of them. Benny? Seriously?

You’ve spent so much of your life alone, out of the minds of boys and girls, void of compliments, that you find it hard to believe anybody might have a thing for you. Least of all, Benny. Sweet, quiet, unassuming Benny. Well, until tonight, that is.

But come to think…The last few months, he’s been weird. The random compliments he’s been dropping, when he never used to before. That time in the garage, when he messed with your hair and put his hands on your shoulders. The car ride today, disapproving of JJ.

“I know you like him.”

The penny drops.

“He’s…jealous?” you whisper.

“No duh, dumbass,” Kiara mutters.

“But- Wait, of what?”

Your life feels as though it has suddenly become a teenage rom-com after being nothing but years of a podcast of white-noise a person could fall asleep.

“Of JJ,” Kie answers, as if it’s obvious.

“Why in the hell would he be jealous of JJ?”

A look gets shared between Pansy and Kiara.

“Because JJ has a thing for you too…”

“JJ does not have a thing for me,” you snort. “He doesn’t have a thing for me, alright? You guys are way off.”

“Hun—”

“No, he doesn’t, alright?” you can’t help but snap at Kie. The emotions of the last few months are bubbling inside of you. More tears well up. “Why would he? I’m awkward, and I’m useless, and I’m desperate, and I’ve been in love with him since I was a kid and have never done anything about it! I’m pathetic! And he’s…Well, he’s him. He’s funny and charming and fucking gorgeous and…And I’m just me.”

Pansy and Kiara are staring at you with eyes full of pity. They don’t speak, but Kiara grabs at your hand and squeezes it tight.

"Don’t ever talk about yourself like that,” she tells you in a voice that’s firm but sweet, like cookie dough.

“I’ll slap you if you say anything like that again,” Pansy not-so-delicately doubles.

You laugh through your tears at that. Wiping your face, sighing, you look down at the ground.

“I…I think you should really talk to JJ,” Kiara offers. “You can say whatever you want, but I see how he is around you. He’s never like that, with anyone. You bring out a different side of him, and I mean that in the best way.”

“She’s right,” Pansy nods, nudging your shoulder. “I was looking at him through the set, and he had his eyes glued on you.”

“I’m the singer,” you sigh in disagreement.

“Yeah, but I’m the most talented one up there,” Pansy replies, as if it’s obvious. You laugh at her antics. “Everyone should be looking at me.”

Looking to your two friends, you can’t help but feel a swell of gratefulness for having them stick by you. Nodding, you sniff away the last few tears.

“I wanna talk to JJ,” you tell them.

“Perfect,” Kiara says. “He’ll probably be at the chateau. I’ll give you a lift.”

Doing as she says she will, Kie drops you off at the Chateau on her drive home. As you climb out the car, Pansy sticks her head out the back window.

“You sure you wanna go on your own?” she double-checks.

You smile at her. She’s a good friend.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you nod.

She smiles back. “Alright. Now, remember: you’re hot, you’re talented, and you’re a catch-twenty-two.”

“Got it,” you say with a laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Good,” Pansy nods. Mission accomplished. “Go get ‘em.”

You wave farewell to Kie as she pulls back out the driveway and onto the road. The moment the car’s gone, you’re abandoned in darkness. A few birds are giving their final caws of the day, settling down for the night. Crickets and night critters merge with the distant lapping of the water of the marsh. Sighing, you wrap your jumper tighter around yourself in a hug and walk towards the back garden. You’re hoping JJ’s here. Kiara said he should be.

As you round the side of the house, you make out the hammock. It’s swaying lightly. There’s a foot extended out of it, heel of a boot dug into the ground, causing it to rock. The faint puff of smoke that blows up makes you certain it’s him.

“JJ?”

The rocking stops.

You walk a bit closer until you’re in his line of sight. He’s looking down at his hands, one of which is messing with his pocketknife as the other cradles a joint.

“Hey,” you quietly say.

“Hey,” he mumbles. His cap is tilted down, concealing his face slightly.

“How’s your hand?” you ask.

He glances to it. Nods. “It’s fine.”

Nodding, you shift your weight from one foot to the other. “Can I join you?”

He stops fiddling with the knife. There’s an awkward pause before he nods, shifting so you can climb onto the hammock. You take a spot by his feet. He uses his foot as an anchor to steady the sway.

“Did you like the set?”

“Mhm.”

“I played one of the new ones,” you say. He nods, feigning disinterest.

“It was nice,” he says. “Benny help you write it?”

You sigh. “Seriously, JJ?”

He looks up at that. Eyes dazzling in the moonlight. “What?”

“Did you have to hit him?”

“The guy was asking for it, alright? You heard what he said to me, didn’t you?” JJ defends, sitting up.

 “Of course, I did. But you can’t just hit anybody who pisses you off.”

“You don’t get it, alright?”

“Sure I don’t,” you reply, sarcastic.

“No, you don’t,” he repeats, firmer. He pushes his cap back as he goes on, blunt momentarily abandoned. “You live in your little Kook world, ignorantly bliss to the shitshow that goes on around you.”

His words set off something inside of you.

“I’m not some stuck-up snob, JJ. Don’t treat me like I am. That’s not fair. Being a Kook and a Pogue has nothing to do with you picking a fight with Benny at the fair.”

JJ laughs, tossing his head back. He wipes a hand down his face. “Oh, you’re so stupid sometimes, you know that? It has everything to do with it!”

“How!? How does that make any sense?” you gape, sitting upright. You wave your arms around. “In what Pogue-Kook universe do you have to pick a fight with Benny? We’re just friends!”

“For someone so quiet, you sure don’t pay attention,” JJ insults, staring you in the eyes.

Your resolve slackens. “Don’t be mean, JJ.”

“According to your little boyfriend, that’s all I can be,” he mutters, looking back down to his pocketknife.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you sigh, exhausted. You rub at your forehead. “I don’t know where all that stuff came from, okay? He’s never acted like that before. I’m so embarrassed, and I’m so sorry he said all that to you, and he was way out of line. I don’t know why he did it.”

“I do! Everyone does! It’s obvious! The guy’s in love with you. He thought he was defending your honour or some shit,” JJ spits.

“He’s not in love with me,” you deny. Maybe he might have a crush on you, but in love? Come on now.

“Seriously? You seriously don’t see it?” JJ says, voice rising again.

You shrug, making a face as if to say ‘no, I really don’t’.

It seems to make him angry again.

“He follows you around all the time! He’s always watching you, alright? Always. He’s looking at you all the time. Complimenting you. Making little jokes, hoping that you’ll laugh. Finding any excuse to spend time with you. Like with that teaching-you-the-drums bullshit? What the hell was that? And don’t get me started on that little display he did in the garage that day! With the hands on the shoulders and stuff and grabbing your bag for you like a little pussy-whipped simp. Helping you out without you even asking for him too--”

“That’s your definition of love?” you practically shout, cutting him off with a scoff. “You do all of that!”

“Exactly!” JJ yells.

Silence.

JJ’s breathing heavy. You see the moment the words catch up. See his face drop into panic, then glaze over as if uninterested. Your mind’s racing, scrambling for purchase and muddling through interpretations…

But…there’s only one though. Right?

JJ looks out to the water. He takes a hit from his joint, almost desperate.

“JJ,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. Looks down at his joint as if it’s something to inspect. As if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “Doesn’t matter, alright?”

“Yes, it does.”

“No-” his clipped tone is cut off with a sigh. You see him close his eyes. Collects himself. There’s a lingering quiet. A mosquito nips at your ankle but you can’t bring yourself to waft it away.

“You don’t know the effect you have on people, do you?” He asks you quietly. He opens his eyes to look out to the water. You’re not sure if you’re meant to answer. Before you can, he’s talking once more.

“Benny’s got almost everything in common with you, okay? He’s rich, he’s got a nice house, nice family. Goes to a good school. I bet he gets good grades, too. Talented. And he’s not the worst looking asshole, alright? So, yeah. It is a Kook-Pogue thing, alright?”

His eyes flit to you for a moment but he doesn’t let them linger. He looks back down to the pocketknife. His thumb dances over the wood of it.

“It was always gonna be a Kook-Pogue thing. The moment that I realised I liked you; I knew there was no chance. I mean, what the hell would you want with a guy like me?”

Oh.

There’s a strange, euphoric feeling that comes after JJ talks. You suddenly feel like you understand why you’ve always gotten along with JJ. It’s like you’ve been staring in a mirror this whole time. It’s then that that you realise that you’re not nervous anymore. That you haven’t been nervous in a while, whenever JJ’s around. That if you ever do feel anxious or unsure, finding his face, meeting his eyes, searching for his smile; it always brings you back. Suddenly, you don’t care about the differences; the small, insignificant things that really don’t matter, when you think about it, because as long as you’ve got JJ, you don’t care what happens.

He says Benny’s got more in common with you, but Benny doesn’t know about the panic attacks or how to ease you back from them. He doesn’t know how to make you laugh; not to the point where you feel your stomach might collapse and your ribs might break. His compliments don’t make you feel like there’s a shot of electricity running through you, quick and painless. With Benny, they’re just nice words, like when a cashier tells you to have a good day. Maybe he’s book smart and plays the drums well, but JJ could tell you anything you want to know about fishing: how, where, when. Mechanics and boats and handy-man tricks. Intelligence wasn’t one thing; it wasn’t just about being able to dissect a Shakespeare quote. And you could sit and listen to him talk all day. The cadence of his voice rising and falling like the tide of the water.

You’ve liked JJ since you were a kid. Since that stupid day on the marsh, when you were frog hunting, and you saw him on the rope swing. He was so funny. So bubbly and lively. Everything you wished you could be. And when he looked at you, through the bushes of the marsh, and smiled…that smile became every inspiration for every song you wrote. The thought in the back of your mind when you conjured up the lyrics. As he got older, he became more beautiful, twisting into the definition of an American heartthrob. Your lives stretched differently and you came to accept that liking him would be a pipedream. Something you could live in your fictional songs. But then came Kiara, and The Wreck, and everything else, and it all lined up so nicely. It was as if an invisible string was tied around your wrist the first day you saw him, guiding you to now.  

Right now.

You shift onto your knees and move up the hammock until you’re face to face with JJ. Before either of you has time to think, you’re cupping his jaw and guiding his lips to yours. Under the unsteady purchase of the hammock, you move your free hand to his chest for balance. It’s hard and sturdy. Once the shock slips away, JJ’s kissing you back. One of his hands comes to your face, swiping across your cheek and pushing back some of your hair that’s fallen into your face. His other comes to sit on your waist. Squeezes your skin softly, as if checking that you’re real: joint and pocketknife abandoned. A feeling zips through your body, right down to your toes. It’s indescribable. It’s sweet and mercurial and…it’s JJ. It’s all JJ.

When you pull back, you’re smiling.

JJ’s eyes open slowly. A smile is blooming on his face too, cheeks pink, lips still parted, damp from your touch.

“Okay,” he whispers.

You giggle, biting your lower lip. “Okay?”

“Not what I was expecting,” he admits with a small laugh.

You can’t help but kiss him again, wanting to taste his laughs. He gladly pulls you closer, shifting you so you’re straddling his waist. The more you kiss, the more he eases into touching you, the more you relax into kissing him. Finding a rhythm and a pattern that has the two of you short of breath.

Breaking apart once more, JJ stares at you as if in a trance. The same look from The Wreck and from the ocean. You recognise what it is now.

He strokes a finger across your cheek and you lean into the touch of his palm. Makes him smile brighter.  

“You gonna write a song about me now?” he quietly jokes. His eyes flick down to your lips.

You smile, laugh almost silently as you shake your head. Before leaning down to kiss him again, you confess your only remaining secret to him in a whisper.

“They’re already about you. Every single one of them.”

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj fic #jj slow burn #jj maybank slow burn #pogues #pogues fic #pogues preference #platonic!kiara x reader #platonic #platonic!pogues x reader #friends to lover #shy!reader x jj #shy!reader x jj maybank #kook!reader x jj #kook!reader x jj maybank #beach bunny #jj maybank fic #outer banks #outerbanks #outer banks fic #outerbanks fic #obx #obx fic

[writingjjfics]

I cannot stop thinking about a boat day with JJ and him just being the sweetest but also a little shit at the same time and he plays all his country favs on the speaker 🤭

🏖️ I loveee this! 🌊

-------------------------------------

"JJ! I swear to god", you called out to the boy at the front of the boat. A mischievous grin plastered on his face, while he was driving the boat a little too fast for your liking.

Your stomach churned with every bounce, making it more and more unbearable by the second. "Seriously JJ, I'm going to be sick", you yelled over the roar of the engine.

The boat slowed down abruptly and the water stilled. JJ turned towards you, and gave you an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry babe, got carried away a little." You rolled your eyes, knowing he was just doing it to tease you, because he knew how easily you get seasick.

"We are almost there by the way, so don't worry, I'm not doing it again", he chuckled and winked at you.

A few minutes later you arrived at this beautiful, small, distant beach. JJ anchored the boat and hopped off onto the soft sand. He reached out his hand for you to take, "Welcome to paradise, m'lady." he announced giving you a kiss on your hand.

The rest of the day was spent swimming, taking pictures and JJ making it up to you for driving so fast, and the best way he can make it up to you is .., well we all know what that is … he picked out this distant beach for a reason.

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj obx #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x fem!reader #obx #outer banks #outerbanks #obx fanfic #obx fluff #reader x platonic!pogues #poguestyle

[book-place]

I think I might start writing for Outer Banks- any requests?

#outer banks #obx #obx x reader #obx fic #obx fanfiction #outer banks x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction #platonic #platonic imagine #x reader #jj maybank #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope heyward #obx pogues #pogues x reader

[a-aexotic]

❜ 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

rafe cameron

fics

-> clingy!rafe part 2 sort of part 3?

-> comfort fic

-> half & half universe

-> picture perfect universe

-> diet coke

-> blank space

-> paris

-> my tears ricochet ☆

-> dancing with our hands tied ☆

-> getaway car part 2

-> haunted

-> fav headcanons

-> rafe defending pogue!reader

-> love triangle w/ jj & rafe part 2

-> dating john b's sister

-> being in a secret relationship

-> enemies to lovers

jj maybank

fics

-> confession on poguelandia (routledge!reader) ☆

-> jj as a soccer player

-> right where you left me

-> love triangle w/ jj & rafe

-> jj cheating

-> jj being protective over you

sarah cameron

fics

-> angst to comfort ☆

john b routledge

fics

-> vitamin D masks

-> platonic!sister reader getting trapped by rafe

pope heyward fics

-> confession

-> helping you fall asleep

#outer banks fic #outer banks fandom #outer banks fanfiction #outerbanks rafe #outer banks #outer banks fluff #obx fanfiction #obx2 #obx #obx jj #obx s3 #obx imagine #obxhub #rafe obx #obx season 3 #kiara carrera #outer banks 3 #jj maybank #jj mayback imagine #obx jj x reader #obx jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj and kie #jj x kie #kiara #kiara outer banks #kiara carerra x reader #sarah cameron #kiara obx

[thecameronchronicles]

For A Friend

TW: angst about body "issues". Language. Soft smut. Soft JJ. Praising. 

-Pogue Reader x JJ Maybank

-Body Positivity Fic

SUMMARY: Your crush on JJ reaches is finally reciprocated...but it takes a bit of convincing to believe it is reality. 

WORD COUNT: 3500

*ORIGINAL CONCEPT*

For a Friend

It was everything about him. His charisma. His passion. His loyalty. Even his stubbornness and hot-headed reactions for protecting those he cared for. And yet it was all you were to him. Even though you longed for him to look at you the way he had to Kiara. Finding an excuse to touch you or make you laugh. And maybe just once, look at you with the same lust that you saw cast in any random touron he hadn't been accepted or even rejected by. 

And tonight...You would. 

"Okay. I've got everything." He explained, taking the open space in the log beside you as the fire remained ablaze. 

"I'm okay..." You confessed, your mind counting up the calories to the snack offered as he glared. 

"I can't be friends with you anymore if you don't make a s'more right this second." He pushed the items towards you as you couldn't deny the tradition. Every pogue bonfire since you could remember had only truly begun when the marshmallows were melted well into the chocolate and taken against one's lips. But much like your hesitance, many things were off about tonight. Including the absence of the other pogues. Yet, you favored this time alone with JJ. No matter how you could get it. Even if it would only ever remain platonic. 

"That's my girl." His simplistic comment made your heart swell as you shied down to your sweet. 

"Cheers." He teased before you cocked your jaw in nervousness. After only a moment, you were summoned from your fantasy lengthening this moment as he pulled this vision to reality. 

"You've got uh...here..." Using his thumb, he pulled the chocolate from your bottom lip and took it in his smirk, unaware or unphased by how intimate this moment had been as well as his affect on you.

"I think yours tastes better than mine..." He suddenly took a bite of yours from the other side, making you chuckle at his method of consumption. 

"Definitely...So much better..." He explained with a mouth full. But suddenly he moved closer. His knee pressing against yours as your eyes lifted from beneath your lashes. 

"Do you want a drink?" 

"No, I'm okay..." As he reached to the cooler, you couldn't help but look at the direction of The Chateau. It was rare for there to be darkness and silence within the small space, but it was how it existed now. 

"Where is everyone?" You turned to face him, his hand suddenly on your cheek as his lips to yours had surprised you enough to make you still. You hadn't retracted or responded in anything else but silence. 

"I'm sorry...I've just always really wanted to do that."

"What?" The disgust on your face surprised him. Nervously, he ran his hand through his hair. 

"I didn't know if you...if we...Being Kiara's friend I didn't want to make it weird but...I had to know..." He kicked the dirt. 

"And now I do...so...now I need more than a drink..." He pulled a rolled blunt from his pocket as you quickly searched for a fix for the fleeting moment. 

This was what you'd wanted for years. Since Kiara has introduced you to him at the summer bonfire half a decade ago. When he spent the night talking about music and surfing and you fell in love with how he saw the world, or better yet, how he made his own within it. 

"I was..." Your words were quick as they were as ceased by your own ambition. 

"Why?"

"Why?" His eyes narrowed. 

"Why me?" 

"Why...why not you? You're passionate, caring, warm..." He paused. "Beautiful..." 

"You said it last..."

"What?"

"Nothing...I'm just gonna go home..."

"What did I say?" He was on his feet as you were on yours. The way he spoke your name having rooted you into the estate that has become your second home. 

"It's stupid..."

"I rarely see you upset, so clearly it's not...what is it?"

"I'm just gonna go..." But as you tried, he blocked your exit. Although you could have easily maneuvered around him, you didn't want to. A larger part of you wanted him to know. 

"I've watched you with Tourons and Kie...you always say that they're hot and...and you said it last..." His eyes narrowed. 

"See I told you, it's stupid..." 

"No...I just...I'm confused...I'm trying to understand."

"So am I..." To this, he softened in hearing the panic of fear behind your breath. 

"What's wrong with wanting to make you feel beautiful?" He questioned while pulling a hair behind your ear. But this romantic gesture was rejected as you took a step back. 

"Why now? Is it because you're bored? Because I'm...I'm here?" Tears brimmed in your eyes as you were well aware you risked being left behind in his frustration. But the only thing you wanted more than to be with JJ was to be with him when he meant it. Not for a night. Not for a moment. 

"You think I wanted to kiss you because I was drunk? Or...desperate?" 

"You've never...until tonight...I just want to understand..."

"Because I couldn't take it anymore! That goddamn rule about no pogues macking and yet everyone has...And the one girl I wanted to..."

"Was Kie..."

"Why can't you understand that it was you."

"Because it's never me, JJ. I'm not the girl guys look to stand next to them rush and post photos of online okay? I know that. That's fine. But if this is some joke or curiosity-" 

He set both hands on your cheeks. 

"The only thing I'm curious about was your reaction because I wasn't sure how you felt about me. We've been friends for a long time and you're right, I've been with a lot of girls...but I want it to mean something with you..." 

You saw the truth behind his eyes. In the same moments he spoke of his father or the other pogues, you found him like this now. Only his focus was on you. 

"But it's you. My focus. My interest. Whatever other interesting word Pope would come up with...It's you." 

"Then can you try it again?" He nodded. A soft kiss pulled you against him. His hands were gentle to your cheeks, brushing away the tears as evidence of your former pain as he walked you towards the steps of The Chateau. You chuckled on the missteps before you were successfully inside. 

"Would you let me make you feel beautiful?" 

You could only answer with a nod. You'd expected him to be direct and vulgar, you, nervous to chuckle, but found only excitement to replace this as he led you to the back bedroom. 

"Wait...Can you go back outside?" 

"You want me to...okay..." 

"Just for a second..." You nodded before waiting on the steps. 

"Shit!" He cursed as he tripped moving in shock steps from the kitchen to the hallway. Cabinets and cupboards slamming behind his wake until only silence remained. The sudden presence of hands over your eyes returned him to you. 

"Okay...Step up..." He guided before leading you to the bedroom once again. But this time, as the door opened, you found it illuminated with candles. In true JJ fashion, he used turned over beer cans as holders for the tealights, but it made his effort that much more beautiful. 

"JJ..."

"I want you to be comfortable and-" You turned to him. 

"I'm not as experienced as what you're used to..." You interrupted him in nervousness as he nodded. 

"That's one of the more selfish reasons I like you..." He moved closer, a finger below your chin as he brought you to his lips. 

"All the things I get to teach you..." Your cheeks flushed and your thighs tightened at his words before he interlaced your fingers. 

"Do you know the reason I said beautiful last?" He asked as he pulled the sweater from your arms as he stood behind you, kissing your shoulders as you shook your head in rejection. 

"Because...I saw you. Passionate. Caring. Smart. Maybe even more than Pope." You chuckled. "Creative. Stubborn. All of it made you beautiful. Because I've gotten to know you. Those other comments, those other girls...that's all I knew were their looks..." You looked away for a moment as he collected you back to face him. 

"But sweetheart, I noticed that too...Your eyes...your smile..." He kissed your lips softly. "And if I have to even begin to describe your curves...I'm gonna need to see 'em..." He began to pull at your tank top as you paused. 

"I want you to know how beautiful you are...even if it takes all night..." He kissed you again, making you forget all of the reservations that had consumed you until now. 

"Lay down for me..." You surrendered to him. Even if the smallest of voices remained to contradict your growing confidence. 

"If there's anything you don't want, just stop me..." He pulled his hair from over his torso as your eyes glue to his muscles. He was bronzed and rigid. A dream in every way. And you basked in knowing you got to witness it. 

"But you better tell me now...because I don't think I'll be able to stop once I know how you feel...God, I've thought about it so long..." He swallowed hard as his fingers traced your thighs. 

"Can I...kiss you?" You nodded as he lowered over you. Your body tensed in the anticipation. But instead, he used the kiss of his breath along your skin. Beginning at your mouth, he casted a smirked exhale down your jaw and at your chest before lifting up your shirt. Your fingers quickly wrapped around his wrists. 

"I want to see all of you. You're so beautiful...please let me, sweetheart..." You hesitated before closing your eyes as he helped you out of your shirt. But once he noticed your distant glance, he brought you back to face him. 

"Look at me..." He was sweet, soft kisses continuing down your stomach. 

"Can I see all of you?" He inquired as he teased the cup of your bra around the entire perimeter before you slowly nodded. Lifting up to your elbows, he corrected the attempt you'd made to undress. 

"I'll do it..." He explained as you nodded. He was effortless before exposing your breasts. He scoffed. 

"Shit..." He took one within his hand before focusing on you. 

"I just want to make you feel good for me..." Your lips parted as he began to roll your nipple between his fingers. A new fire developed between your thighs as your gasp informed him of your favorable reaction. 

"Does that feel good?" 

You nodded. 

"I'm gonna do both..." You bit your bottom lip as he had done just that. Both breasts given equal attention. But he needed more, quickly, as you began to motion beneath him. And as you relished in his touch, his mouth surprised your skin with his wrap. 

"JJ-"

"Mmm..." He moaned, repeating this affection to both sensitive mounds. 

"I asked earlier if I could kiss you...I didn't get to make it clear where..." He kissed down your stomach again. The insecurity you once had to the vulnerability was now replaced with the confidence he left behind. 

"Nobody's ever-" You confessed as he rose from between your thighs. 

"Oh sweetheart...I love knowing I get to be the first..." He prepared you for him. Removing your panties, you swallowed hard to now be completely bare for him. Sending your nervousness, he stood between your legs. Undressing. Completely. 

"Now it's fair." He smirked as your eyes adored his physique. Every perfect inch that you were now able to appreciate without hiding your interest from afar. 

"Where was I?" He asked himself as he positioned both your legs over his shoulders. 

"Nobody's here...so be as loud as you want..." 

"I..I don't want to annoy you.." He scoffed. 

"It tells me I'm doing a good job...it's nothing to be embarrassed about... especially with me." He kissed down your thighs in slow succession to savor how you trembled beneath him. As he inches closer and closer to your sex, he smirked as you shifted in pure unbridled uncertainty yet trust. 

"If anything hurts, tell me..." You nodded. He began with a teasing kiss to your clit as you smirked. But this fell to pleasure as he took that sensitive bundle of nerves between his teeth, sucking you into his tongue. When he watched how your fingers fisted the sheets in approval, he began to flick his tongue in the hold made with his new clench until only that suction remained. 

He worked himself against you as you allowed the breathless moans to validate his endeavors. But he craved more. He needed more. So he led your hand to his hair. You took this instruction and began to take hold of his locks instead as he nodded. 

"JJ..." He withdrew to the sound of his name. 

"I want you to try to do something for me..." 

You waited anxiously for his request. At first, your mind became plagued with illicit positions and actions. All things you'd be willing to try, but need guidance for. But instead, he would surprise you with his selfless submission. 

'I want you to come on my face...Do you think you can do that for me?" You hesitated. 

"I don't care how long it takes...you taste..." He licked his lips, "I could do this all night...I just want to make you come...to make you feel beautiful...to make you feel good..." You nodded softly. 

"Then take your time, princess." He moved between your legs again. Only now, he was a man on a mission. Kindness now secondary, he dove into your lower lips. 

"Please...let me hear you.." He breathed into you as your body betrayed any attempt to remain silent. 

"Mmm..." He moaned between your legs as your eyes witnessed his motions. He was ravaging your most intimate of nerves and you struggled to do anything but reserve your tremors. When he sensed this, he pulled a hand to your breast until the kneading left you shameless. 

"JJ...I'm..."

He only nodded before rising just high enough to insert one finger into you. The surprise made you gasp and a quick lift of his eyes validated that this was from pleasure. But with the second came the arch of your back as the pressure along with the suction became too much. 

"JJ!" Your body rushed against him in ecstasy as he held you down with an arm across your waist.

"I thought you were beautiful before...something special about when you come for me..."  He licked his lips, kissing your thigh in his exit as he stood between your legs. 

"I don't want to sound selfish, sweetheart...but tasting you and heading you moan like that...Any change you can take a bit more?"

You nodded quickly. "Please...." He smirked wide enough to deepen his dimples. 

"Good...I'll start slow..." He aligned himself with your sex before pausing. Tearing through the drawer, he breathed a sigh of victory to the lone condom in wait for him. Even though your thoughts casted to the others he'd used before you, his voice returned you to this moment exclusively with him. 

"Fuck..." He exhaled once he'd set himself inside of you. 

"Is it-" you nodded, clenching around him in the foreign fulfillment you'd been denied until now. 

"If it's too much..."

"Please...don't stop..." You pleaded as he began in soft motions. These eased thrusts began to grow in desperation as he brought you deeper against him. 

A blur of skin became of the two of you as you shifted the sheets beneath you. Perspiration made the glide easier as he built to an ungodly  pace into you. His moans vibrated at the gluttonous suck made at your breast as his hands were feverish for any skin he could adorn. 

"Shit!" He cursed behind his building release. "How do you feel so good?! Goddamnit!" He chortled as you rolled your hips as he held them down with his own. 

"Unless you want me to come right now you need to sit still..."

"I want you to..." 

"Yeah?" His hand came softly to your cheek once pressing the softest peck to your lips. 

"Can you say it for me?" 

"Co-come for me, JJ...please..." He kissed you again, this time with the tease of his tongue at your bottom lip, before he returned to his focus. But in the process of coming back to that curvature of pleasure, a second release began within you. Your skin chilled. Your abdomen tightened. That echo of what was about to come has been broadcast in your expression. 

"Come with me...please, sweetheart...I know you can do it..." You nodded, feeling him favor your motions against this one. Every wave of your hips met graciously with his own until the pleas silenced to sharp inhales and a final utterance of your name from his lips. 

"Fuck!" He validated as you smirked. Kissing you one final time, he collapsed beside you. 

"Come here..." He set you at his chest. 

"Why haven't we done that sooner?" He asked as you cradled tighter into him. With a wide smirk, you shrugged. 

"Get some rest, sweetheart. I'm making you the best waffle from the toaster in the morning. Maybe two." You smirked as he kissed your head.

But somewhere in the night as bliss had been a means to stay asleep as long as you had, you heard familiar voices pull you to your soles. Using rj sheets as you were left naked, you heard Kiara, your best friend, speak to JJ. 

"How was it?" 

"I'm not telling you any details...If you wanted to know, you find out for yourself...actually..." You could hear Kiara hit him as he fell off kilter. 

"Did it work?" You stilled. 

"Come on JJ, I don't need details. I just wanted to give her a bit of a confidence boost...so..."

Your heart caved into itself. 

"Was it bad?"

"It shouldn't have happened, not like that-" You didn't care to wait for another word. Instead, you dressed in whatever clothes you could find behind your tears. Stealing your keys from the floor as they'd fallen during the undressing, you barreled passed them as both realized you were awake. 

"Shit..." Kiara uttered as JJ chased after you. 

"At least now I know why...a pity fuck?! That's even worse!"

"No!"

"So Kiara didn't ask you to do it? And you'll just do anything for her, right?"

"It's...fuck, there's more than that, okay-"

"No there isn't! You used the feelings I had for you because you knew you'd...you'd get laid...and I believed it was more…'

"I meant it. The way I went about it was wrong, I admit it-' you tried to leave again but he took hold of your hand. 

"But I don't regret it. I HAVE wanted to do that for a long time. And it wasn't until Kie told me that I knew you liked me for sure. But I didn't know...I have never been more nervous for anything!"

"Because you didn't want Kie mad at you?"

"Because I didn't want to lose you! But I couldn't stand being around you for another second without knowing! It just happened to be the same time. Two birds with one stone. And yes, I used it as an excuse to know. But now I do and you can't deny it now!" He took your face between his hands. 

"Not when my sheets smell like you and I know exactly how you sound when you come. Not that I know to bend my fingers just right and rub slowly to make your toes curl. But more than that...how you talk in your sleep. How you smirk after you have sex....how your heart feels against mine when you're at peace."

Your eye flashed to Kiara as she emerged with worried eyes. 

"How can I believe you?"

"If you think I only did it to please her? I'll take you back in there right now and make sure she can hear it this time. Maybe record it. Maybe broadcast it-'

"JJ-"

"Whatever it takes to prove it. This wasn't a one time thing. It was a risk. And I'm scared as hell that if you leave...you can't leave! I...I love you..." Your eyes returned to him. 

"No games. No lies. No fucking ulterior motives. The truth. I'm risking it all and-" You silenced him with a kiss. A tender passion that ended the eventful night on the highest and sweetest note as you were wrapped in the arms of the man you loved. 

"I love you too..." You confessed as he smirked. 

"Good. I still intend to make her hear you next time, though..." He winked as you blushed, feeling as if no moment could ever be greater than this. Unaware how he was just getting started. 

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[oddlykilledghosts]

I Want You To Like Me - Rafe Cameron x reader (Part Four)

Summary: You're a pogue by choice, kook from birth. The friendship that you have with the other pogues is undeniable, no one questions their loyalty for you or your loyalty to them. So when a certain King of the Kooks takes interest in you, it's only right to turn him down. Right?

author’s note: taking some love triangle action into account this chapter! More Rafe as well! I want to thank everyone who has liked this story so far. When I started this fic I was in a rut with writing and seeing everyone enjoy it helped me out of that rut so I love all of you!!

also I'm so sorry if this is bad

Word Count: 5.5k

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x reader, John B x Sarah Cameron, platonic!Pogues x reader

And suddenly you were in the bathroom, wearing Rafe’s t-shirt (not that you had done anything other than claw at each other some more), and were stressing about making a public appearance at the Island Club together. Your parents weren’t very close with the Cameron’s. At least not anymore. Not after Rafe’s behavior got more noticeable. Drinking, drunk driving, the not so discreet drugs. When Ward tried to play it off, your family decided that until Rafe straightened out his behavior that they should hang around more respectable people. Which had kind of worked out for you, as that was around the time you and Kie had split from Sarah. Your family and Kie’s found that as a reason to spend more time together, as they were amongst the few Kooks who tried not to be pulled into dramatics. But the split from the two families had caused a bigger rift than intended. Sarah had felt ages away afterward when usually you were only as close as a short arm length from each other; just enough to pull someone quickly into a hug. During this time, Rafe had escaped your mind. You had wanted to believe that you too didn’t put up with him, when deep down you wanted to.

Ward doesn’t like to be the one scorned, so he would be plainly political about his feelings. Softly concealed disapproval. But you could see your parents head straight for the fact that you would be even interested in someone they found so insufferable, the “'bad boy' of the island”. Not that you could do anything to help those feelings at this point.

But those thoughts were both enough to cause some anxiety. 

The Island Club was never a place you wanted to go to yourself either. It was always just family dinners or hauling your ass over there to bother JJ during his long shifts when you knew he would be losing his mind. When you had the pogues, it just never ended up being a safe place for you as it did for most of the Kook community. The Chateau, that was your safe place. With John B drooling and drunk on the hammock and Pope reading out by the dock. 

Rafe knocked once on the door. “Y/N?” 

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your hair was tousled a little from being on the bed, but otherwise you still looked fine. Kiara’s borrowed chokers shone against your tan. Were you the type of girl people expected to see with Rafe Cameron? Did it matter? Being half pogue never felt right in those circles, as if someone was always staring at you. You took your fingers and started fiddling with your hair, putting back misplaced pieces. There was always an expectation in being a Kook, never one with being a pogue. 

You sighed, you wanted this to be easy. This was your first date with Rafe Cameron. But here there were ghosts of distances that used to not exist. It was odd that this rift was created in the first place, like a separation that didn’t need to be previously crossed. Not that long ago had you been a full fledged Kook. But it had been so easy to settle into the pogue lifestyle, surfing, working, the occasional bit of smoking that wafted from the Twinkie’s doors…it felt right. This was somehow so all unfamiliar and bits of hazy memories seemed to mix all into an unappetizing flavor. 

No.

It doesn’t matter. You’re doing this. Rafe, somehow in the middle of everything, felt right to you right now too. That’s what mattered. 

Rafe knocked again, and in a louder voice asked, “Y/N/N, are you okay in there?”

The fact of the matter was, just as it was getting a little too hot and heavy for a first time romantic reunion you had hit the brakes and told Rafe you had to go to the bathroom. Mood killer, yes. But it had given you enough time to decide that you actually did in fact want to go to the Island Club, but also enough to know that you were slightly ill prepared to do so, especially as you looked down at yourself in the reflective silver.

You opened the door back to Rafe’s room to see him waiting outside the door, still shirtless, a fist raised to knock again. He looked surprised at your reentrance, as if he had expected you to climb out of the window instead and climb the two stories down from his room. This was an image you could see versions of your previous self attempting in efforts to evade the boy; maybe in another universe.

You smiled slightly, a small smirk forming just so softly on your features at the sight of this boy that you had pined over at fourteen. 

“What?” Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed in that same familiar pattern at the sight of you. He was hiding a smile too behind his usual demeanor of harsh lines and toughness he had garnered because of his father. You wanted to smooth down his face, letting him just be free with you. His hand hanging in the air suddenly was against your cheek and Rafe was pulling you back into him again, as if he couldn’t hold on another second away from you. The tension in his shoulders lifted slightly when he was close enough to you, his mouth on yours. 

You kissed him back easily, as if so much had changed from the time that Kiara and John B had dropped you off. It was also easy to want to pull him back on top of you and continue where you left off, but it was also astute in your mind that you did not want to be a King Kook hookup and end up as just another ventured conquest in the little Kook black book of misadventures.

Pressing your hands against the boy’s bare chest you parted yourself from Rafe, just far enough to look him in the eyes. “Hey,” Was all you could get out. It was odd seeing him again like this, after a couple years of hating him along with the pogues. You thought back to those talks you had with Rafe. Even having to share a tent with him and Sarah on a camping trip. Or sneaking out to go on the balcony while Sarah was asleep to find some peace and ending up with Rafe outside and talking away the hours covered beneath the inky black sky. Snide remarks. Wandering eyes. Why hadn’t you seen this before? 

“Hey.” He replied.

You wanted to stay here, where it felt like you only had the two of you to deal with and not the judgment filled stares of kooks and pogues alike. But you also had more important matters, like your discarded clothes on the floor that were more appropriate to wear at the Island Club than just Rafe’s shirt, but still reeked of pogue affiliation. You leaned close to his face to tease him and whispered against his skin, “I need clothes.”

Rafe chuckled lightly and you felt his chest move with the small laugh, “I’d bet you look better with none at all but-”

You pulled away with a slight astonished smile and a playful gasp escaped your lips, “I meant for the Island Club.” You chided, squinting your eyes at him, already familiar with Rafe’s playboy tendencies.

Rafe rolled his eyes, “An offer to skip it and stay the day in here with the promise of not needing clothes is appearing-” At your look of disapproval he kept going with, “and now disappearing with the fact that we can most definitely get you clothes.”

_______________________

You got dressed back into your clothes from earlier, hesitant to give Rafe back his shirt but eventually caving as you watched him pull it over his head. The smallest little movement of his seemed to pull you into a heartbeat frenzy all of a sudden. And you liked seeing him wear the shirt that you had shared, like you knew it now belonged to you partially too. You had plans to steal it when you could at the next convenience.

His plan was to grab some clothes from Sarah’s room but you were quick to remind him of the fact that Sarah would hardly like an ex-friend to go through her things, let alone because said ex-friend was going on a date with her brother. He somehow disagreed, with a typical saying Sarah hated…that she “would never hurt a fly”. Sarah mostly hated it because it insinuated she also couldn’t fend for herself, though that must be because of deeper familial issues.

So it was decided that you’d head back to the Chateau. You had already checked with Kie that no one would be there, aimly the Pogues (but who else?), before getting yourself situated in Rafe’s car again.

When you got in, a wave of the past day had washed over you, refreshing somehow like a wave you dive under in the ocean when you just can't shake the heat. Ah, the location of the first kiss. Nothing about it had changed. It still smelled like Rafe’s cologne and the seats were still the same. But now you were not Pogue and Kook, you were Y/N and Rafe. This somehow was both safer and more dangerous. A road not yet taken. A road not yet known.

When you got to the Chateau, Rafe stayed in the car a few extra seconds, and somehow you knew he was nervous to get out. As if he too knew this was enemy territory as much as crashing a Tannyhill party had been for the Pogues and you. You turned to this new person in front of you and raised a white flag, “What? You scared?” You chided. 

Rafe grumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t make out, and then said “No.” and got out of the vehicle.

It was so easy for you to exist at the Chateau that Rafe was blazed in an uncomfortable glaring hue. You weren’t sure he’d ever seen John B’s house this close. Closer than the driveway that is. Had he been here before the night he dropped you off? You didn’t know and didn’t inquire to ask as you figured an inquisition would trigger more alarm bells in Rafe’s head while being in the pogues domain.

“Rafe,” you coaxed, offering up a hand, “It’s a house. Relax. No one is here.”

Rafe let out a breath and followed you up to the porch.

You found the key easily, it was hidden in its usual place. JJ had actually hidden it and sworn the other Pogues to secrecy, so there was a hint of guilt as you let Rafe look over your shoulder as you found the spare. In the pogue’s world, everything was sacred. You didn’t have much but each other, and that’s what counted. You didn’t know how close Rafe was with his friends or if it was the same, but you’d doubt he would go against them for you. But then again, you doubted the fleeting remains of feelings you had thought were nothing over the boy you were with at the very moment…so who knows. But there was still just that pinprick in your mind that he wouldn’t give up Kook secrets so easily as you would with the pogues. Call it trusting easily, but you might get in trouble with your friends later for rocking between enemy lines. Actually, you already were in trouble for the most part.

“Home sweet home,” You said, pulling Rafe inside. “Don’t touch anything.”

Rafe looked at you pointedly, “it’s not like I won’t be able to pay to replace anything I break.” 

This was an absolute and obvious fact so you responded, “Oh I’m sure you could.” You gave him a smug look, “What about sentimental value?”

Rafe thought for a moment and you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, “That I could not replace.” He pouted a bit and looked around the room, as if thinking of what could possibly be of sentimental value in the home. Your response, if he asked, would be everything. Every little thing. Especially with your stuff intermingled through the place, it just felt special all mangled together.

You let out a sigh, though you liked that Rafe was being honest for once. “That’s what I thought. Keep your Kook hands to yourself.” You took a step towards him, waving your finger accusingly.

“I thought we were past labels, darlin’.” Then there was that damn smile. Not one ounce of chivalry was inlaid in it, all of it was dark edges and misconceptions. It pulled you in more than you wanted to realize. With Rafe, there was an element of being bad. Of being with the bad guy. And somewhere in you, you liked that. Maybe deep down, you didn’t want to believe that, but it was there and it didn’t feel like hiding that much longer.

You rolled your eyes, suddenly realizing how close the two of you had found yourselves as you talked, and blushed. A habit that had been newly formed whenever Rafe got close to you like this. You pushed his chest away, walking back towards the guest room where all your belongings waited for you.

Rafe was already dressed. He smelled like sweet pine and musk, but also the ocean, and you wanted to sink into him. He wore a polo and some slacks, but it was nicer than any guy had tried in a long time. There was a part of you that hoped and figured it wasn’t going to be that fancy anyway. 

When you got to your room you thought you were going to panic, picking out outfits was never something you had quite delved into. Kie was always there to help. Only a FaceTime away if on Figure Eight, and usually right outside the door already if you were at the Chateau. Sarah was really the mastermind, she could pick things out in seconds that you would’ve never approved of yourself that looked amazing when on. And there was that ache when you thought of her, like a yearning you could never quite hold onto. It was nice seeing her with John B the other night, but also odd. You wondered if you���d ever get the chance to reconcile. Now with Rafe, well he complicates things.

But you put your mind together and thought about your best friends, ex or otherwise, and tried to put together a dress and some jewelry that complimented you. The real you. Not just as a pogue or a kook. 

So you took off Kiara’s chokers, a hard decision as they had been a part of your daily strength and it was hard to part with them, and you put on your pearl necklace you had gotten as a sweet sixteen present from your parents. It looked nice against your tan, and though you didn’t wear it often it was one of your favorite pieces you owned. Which was why you took it to the Chateau. Not one of your best decisions as most things get lost or misplaced in the pogue haven, but you wanted it close to you. It was like a part of your Kook heritage, like saying some part of you will always be a Kook. Not that you’d ever admit this out loud.

Then there was the dress. It wasn’t white, per say, but it matched the pearls. And it flowed around you perfectly. It was starting to feel like the day was already better than midsummers, which you and Kie usually dreaded (but sometimes enjoyed). This was intimate, private, and not some party. And also not an excuse for the Camerons to parade around. Though that was mostly left up to Ward and Rose.

When you walked out of the back guest room, Rafe’s back was turned and he was looking out the window, not having moved from his spot you had placed him in earlier. Creeping up from your toes, you felt a smile coming across your face as you grinned to yourself. Of course Rafe was trying his best. It’s not of use to think that you would find him snooping or setting up booby traps in the pogue home base. But at least to laugh at the thought wasn’t baseless.

“Hey,” you said, so normally like you had been saying it to him casually all your life. You had avoided Rafe like the plague on many occasions, but now you wanted to sound welcoming for once.

He turned, his eyes stopped at your face then trailed the length of your body quickly, finding your eyes again as if traveling back home. He smirked, which only brought you the thought that he would say something snarky but instead he said, “You clean up nice.”

You shrugged, joking a bit as you said, “You look okay.”

Instead of responding at first, Rafe pulled you close to him and kissed you. His lips tasted sweetly of lemonade and alcohol and you wondered when he had time to drink any, or if that was what he always tasted like. You either couldn’t remember or didn’t care. “Take a compliment, L/N.” Was what he said when you pulled away. His eyes were clear when you looked, this dark blue color you always loved. All at once you wanted nothing to break this night. Nothing but to handle it with care. You wanted Rafe and you to work.

_____________________

The Island Club always smelled of flowers when you walked in. Sweet, herbal, and somewhat pungent. It always reminded you of summer, even when the Island was experiencing the annual winter seasons. But in a familiar sense, you were glad that the doorway still had flowers to welcome you on either side, as if they wanted to renew your senses. So when you walked in this time, with Rafe, you took a big whiff of the air. Not only because you wanted to remember it, but because you wanted to have a fresh start. This was not you and Sarah’s brother. This was not you with a Kook. This was you with a boy you liked, going to eat dinner. 

When you sat down, at a table for two, it seemed too perfect.

Rafe started the conversation with a question you didn’t expect, “So what about being a pogue do you like?”

“Oh, um-” You took a sip of your water. “Is this a real question?” It didn’t feel forced, it just felt odd that he seemed to care. You couldn’t surmise that this had any devious connection to it, it just felt like Rafe wanted to know more about you. Which was new, and welcomed.

Rafe nodded, “Yes, Y/N. I may have not been friendly to the pogues-”

“More like devious, conniving, hateful.”

“But-” He took a deep breath, like what he was about to say was worth more than the words before. “I like you. That counts for something doesn’t it? Behind everything?”

A light fired in you, a spark of something, “You really want to know?”

Rafe nodded, let his shoulders relax, and let you continue. You told him all about how the pogues were a family. No man left behind, unless dire circumstances were involved. How you stood by each other. How JJ made you laugh, which made Rafe tense up as it seemed he was still not over the illusion of that relationship, when it was purely a friendship. How John B understood you. How Pope helped you. How Kiara was there for you. Through everything. They just made sense to you. Unlike the Kooks, it wasn’t some casual thing…this was family. 

When you were done, Rafe seemed to stir in his own feelings. You waited patiently for a response, one you were nervous for. “Kooks are like that too, you know.”

You pulled at the hem of your dress, a nervous tic you’d most like to get rid of, “It’s not the same.” You shook your head. There was nothing else like the pogues, you had looked.

“Wheezie is like that.” He paused to play with his napkin and then looked back up at you,  “She has a lot of loyalty in her blood.” 

“Oh, I believe that.” This was said with warmth. Wheezie, as you knew, was Rafe’s soft spot. You’d grown up beside her too and loved her for your quirks. When the other night you admitted to missing her, you weren’t lying. 

“You’re like that too.” It was like he was still holding something back, although unwilling to say so. It made you think, did he think Sarah was like that too? Was lumping Sarah and you together a line he didn’t want to cross with you? 

“Do you think you are?” You asked. You wanted to know the answer, truly. 

“I think I’ve had my doubts.”

“And what about those times you didn’t doubt?”

It was at this moment that Rafe cocked his head, looking slightly past you. His eyes trailed the dining area, and his brows furrowed together deeper than you had seen before, more in anger and annoyance than anything else. And those emotions had rarely been linked to you as a singular entity. “Maybank is here.” He said plainly, losing his focus on you. 

“He works- What? He’s here? Now?” You swiftly moved yourself in your seat, twisting your neck to view who Rafe was looking at. It was indeed JJ Maybank, looking very angry. He was also, indeed, in his work clothes, but you had deliberately picked a section of the club that JJ didn’t serve. It seemed like he had found you anyway. 

You stood up before JJ reached the table, the anger obvious and brewing on his face and put your hand up where his chest ended up, bumping into you slightly. “JJ, you were working today?” His eyes bore into you, lasers going through your skull and obliterating you in the process. 

“What is this?” He held his hat in his hands, all crumpled between his fingers. A sore sight to see as the hat was one of his prized possessions. His blond hair was full of flyaways and runaway strands, but even considering that it wasn’t normally perfect in its own right it was a mess right now. He looked so different than he had the other night, all outgoing and free flying.

“We’re on a date Maybank, if you’d excuse us-” You put a hand up to stop Rafe, only turning back to him for a second. Rafe’s voice had changed the demeanor of the blond boy, it was almost like you could feel the heat radiating off of him.

JJ looked back at Rafe once, but it only seemed to make him angrier, “A date! Wow okay. Nice going, Y/N. Real stand up guy.” His face was turning red, a shade you didn’t enjoy,  and he took a step closer to you as if to show you the anger buried in his face. The betrayal. Rafe stood up at this, with only you between the two boys. 

“Really, JJ, what is this about?” You said sternly, trying to angle your best friend away from Rafe. 

“What is this abo- Can we just talk in private, Y/N?” JJ seethed, letting out soft slow breaths you knew he needed when he got stressed out.

Rafe is suddenly at your side, but you push him away before he can talk and rush into any argument with JJ. You wanted to validate JJ’s feelings, you just didn’t know how to get there. “Rafe, it's fine.” You said to the boy behind you. Then to JJ, “Of course we can.”

Both were said through gritted teeth.

________________________

JJ knew the ins and the outs of the Island Club from working there since he was fourteen, and you knew it from being a Kook from such a young age so it was never hard for the two of you to find hiding spots around the grounds. On this particular day, it was in the downstairs lounge where you both knew no one would be during dining hours. At least not anyone important enough to spot you or kick you out. JJ, this time, was pulling you by the hand to get there and didn’t seem to notice enough to drop your hand when you had found what you were looking for. JJ’s love language had always been touch, and you knew he found comfort in you, so you let your hand stay in his. You found comfort in him too, as you two were usually two peas in a pod.

Now that you were alone, JJ seemed to calm down, to ease quicker into his usual self. One that was open with you, not angry.

“JJ just please tell me-”

“I’m in love with you.” JJ said the words fast, and you paused, your mind dusty with confusion just trying to scramble behind him. JJ loves you. JJ loves you. JJ loves you.

“What?” You said, you could hear a squeak in your voice and you were sure he could too. 

“I’m not supposed to say anything. No Pogue on Pogue macking, I know. Believe me, I know. But now you’re on a date with this utter asshole and I can’t let that happen. I can’t-”

“I thought this was about your hat.”

“What about my-? Oh, yeah, I’m not happy about hearing the story of you losing it with Rafe but that’s only part of why I’m here and literally so insignificant now. Are you hearing me? Y/N/N?”

You let go of his hand. "JJ I just- I don’t know what to say, okay? I’m sorry about the hat. But I’m not sorry about the date.”

“You can’t be serious, Y/N. It’s Rafe fucking Cameron. And we’re us. I know we’re us. We make sense.”

“What if I don’t want to make sense, JJ?” You took a breath after realizing you were also getting worked up. You hoped Rafe was upstairs minding his business, waiting for you to get back. Your head spun. Everything seemed so fast now. It just felt like your world was crumbling. And it was, at least pieces of it. JJ was a flirty boy, had you been stringing him along? What about all the times you were together, did you feel a spark too? All those jokes, all those looks.

“What if I want Rafe?” You finally asked, not really a question you wanted answered.

JJ took a step back, like that was the last thing he expected you to say. You didn’t know what he did expect, you to dive into his arms? Say that you were saved? “JJ,” You tried to close the gap between you, but JJ just stepped back again with confusion and anger bubbling on his face. You wanted this to be easy. There was no easy when breaking someone’s heart. Especially not with JJ, who hid his heart at every twist and turn. “We’re best friends. But we’re not…more.”

“So you just want to go back to your Kook roots? Everything with the pogues was what? Bullshit?” He spit. He ran his fingers through his hair, something he did when he was frustrated. 

“JJ-” 

“Just go.”

You couldn’t lose JJ, not this way. Not because he loves you. You grabbed at his arm and he shook you off, a little too hard. You fell back as Rafe came into the room. He knew the Island Club too. Had almost shown you and Sarah all the secret spots in the first place. Of course you had the two boys that knew this place like the back of their hands.  

Then they were on top of each other. You couldn’t tell who threw the first punch, but you couldn’t tell who you didn’t want it to be. JJ, for one, because you never wanted him hurt in your life. And Rafe, well, because you loved Rafe. You had to admit this now. Had Rafe not driven you home, was there some part of you that would’ve gone with JJ? Loved him back even?

You had to stop it. Frozen, you dazed into a different state. A state where none of this had happened. Where you were fine being strangers with Rafe. Fine not being with JJ either. A place where you weren’t a pogue. A Kook. Nothing. You were just you. 

And when you finally got out of that daze, you realized how stupid it was. You were a pogue. You were a Kook. And most importantly, those identities had caused this rift. This fight. It all mattered. 

“STOP!” You screamed, flailing toward the boys. Rafe was on top of JJ, punching him. JJ was still sitting up halfway and fighting back. Blood splattered on your dress. You didn’t care, not at all. Then suddenly you were on top of Rafe, trying to pull him away, tugging and pulling. But it wasn’t until the other waitstaff heard your screams that he finally got off the Maybank boy. 

Both boys were bloody, but JJ looked worse. A pit in your stomach formed, sitting in the back and swallowing you whole. It was your fault, you knew that. It was hard to see someone you loved like this, but it was also hard to come to terms with what had just happened. But he got up, not looking at you, and left to get cleaned up by his coworkers. 

He left his hat on the floor, where it lay crumpled as if his hand was still imprinted on it.

______________________

The good news was when you called, your parents said they would vouch for JJ as patrons of the Island Club so he wouldn’t be fired. You hadn’t told your parents that Rafe had been involved, or that the two of you had been on a date and you figured that fact could be a later lesson. And you also knew, as JJ wasn’t a fan of law enforcement, that he wouldn’t press charges against Rafe. Which his coworkers were most likely going to suggest. And Rafe was a Cameron. Untouchable. Ward would have to come home and clean it up, put a little more money into the club. But it was fixable. 

They still asked you to leave, which you understood. So you had Rafe take you to your empty house on Figure Eight. 

You got out the first aid kit and had Rafe sit on top of your kitchen’s island. Hoping to clean up the wounds, you dabbed antiseptic onto the cuts on his face and hands. “Does that hurt?” You asked quietly, pressing softly on Rafe’s features.

“Why are you taking care of me, Y/N?” Rafe’s voice was back to being rough edges and unsaid feelings. “Why aren’t you with JJ?” That was the first time that Rafe hadn’t called JJ by his last name, and it just slipped out. Rafe was only ever this soft with two people, and you were now one of them. You wanted to know why. You wanted to know everything. Admittedly though Rafe did have a point, one you had been trying to ignore. Your phone had blown up after the fight from the other pogues. Pope disagreed heavily on you not showing up to the Chateau. But out of all of them, Kie understood the most, and thought it was best you stayed away for a bit. At first hearing this, your heart sank into that little puddle in your gut, but you figured it was for the best. 

You ignored his question, “Why’d you get in the fight, Rafe?”

Rafe didn’t try to excuse his actions, or even imply that JJ threw the first punch, he just shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“What?” A freezing blow struck your heart at his answer, and you figured it was because maybe he didn’t care. But then-

“I want you to like me.” Rafe looked at you, breathing so evenly it was like no fight had occurred. He grabbed your hand and eased you to the gauze down on the counter next to him. “Not Maybank. Not the Heyward kid. Not John B. Me. Okay? You want no other kooks in your life? Fine, Y/N. Whatever. But have me. For fucks sake, you shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t. But I saw him push you down and I just- I wanted you perfect and safe and away from anyone who could take you away from me. I heard what he said. And I don’t care about love. I don’t. I want you to just like me. And tonight, I showed you the real me and you're still here. So I'm just confused."

“Little mushy there, Cameron. Almost forgot it was you talking.”

“Y/N, please.”

Then you kissed him, and it was worth a mess of a life. Just for that moment, maybe. But it was worth it. Some answers don’t need words.

There was no concern about the parents or the friends or having shown up at the Island Club for all to see. There were just the two of you. Rafe, bloody from another fight and yet sober and clean and happy to be with you. And you, you had a lot of feelings. But for now, liking Rafe was enough.

Taglist ☼ @totallynotkaibiased @parkershoco @sarahlizzie @craftyalmondghostflap @siriuslysmoking @igotmajordaddyissues @strngtsblog @fangirlfree @blazebreaker @slvtherinseeker

#creative writing #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #x reader #fanfic writer #writer #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #obx #obx2 #obx3 #jj maybank #obx fanfiction #kiara carrera #obx fic #john b #sarah cameron #reader insert #pogues x reader #obx pogues

[goldvenuslvrs]

sfw alphabet ; jj maybank

word count: 1.3k

warnings: mention of potential future childbearing, can be read as platonic (mostly) or romantic (reader’s choice)

note: ik it’s not a full fic but i wanted to get a couple of things out before/around christmas so merry christmas! (if you celebrate it), i’m planning on doing this for a few more characters as well as a nsfw alphabet (which i’m betting you heathens will enjoy more than this one lol)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?) As soon as he’s comfortable with you, he’s basically attached to your side as often as is humanly possible; the pogues have to literally pull him away from you and restrain him so you can leave to go to work. JJ’s open to all love languages but his favourite is physical touch, he loves holding your hand

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?) JJ is a little shit so a friendship with him could start one of two ways: either (1) you grew up together/you’re one of his friends siblings and he got a two-for-one deal when you met or (2) you work together/partnered up for a project in class and he basically said ‘this one’s mine’ and asserted himself as your best friend

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?) Is the sky blue? JJ loves to cuddle, he didn’t get a lot of love after his mom left (Luke definitely left something to be desired in regards to affection) and the pogues aren’t the most cuddly people in the world so as soon as he realised that you liked cuddles, he’s like your pet koala - wrapped around you as often and as close as physically possible

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?) As seen by the fact that he tried to eat moldy bread, cooking isn’t his strong suit but cleaning? he’s not a big fan but he turns into Mrs Hinch’ when need be

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?) JJ’s definitely a ghoster (sorry), he hates confrontation so he’ll either ghost them or break up with them over text so he doesn’t have to see their reaction/experience their anger

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?) He’s not really a marriage guy, he doesn’t see the point, he doesn’t need a certificate to promise to be committed

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?) JJ can be a bit brash and intense but he can be gentle and caring when the situation calls for it

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?) (I refer you back to ‘C’) He loves hugs, they become his way of greeting you - he’s the type to fully lift you off the ground and spin you around if it’s been a particularly good day

I = I Love You (How fast do they say the L-word?) Getting JJ to say those three special words would take extreme patience (the guy’s got trust issues), it would take a year+ for him to say it (in a romantic sense)

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?) He doesn’t get jealous often but when he does, it’s usually over close friends rather than strangers or kooks - he knows he doesn’t have anything to fear with tourons or Rafe Cameron but Kiara? John B? Sarah? Pope?

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?) He loves forehead kisses (giving and receiving), he thinks they’re so pure and while he enjoys the not so pure stuff, he loves them just as much

L = Little ones (How are they around children?) Babies are fine, JJ can handle them but as soon as they start speaking and forming actual opinions, he’s sure he can handle that (although he assures you that if you and he ever have kids one day, he’ll be a hell of a lot better than Luke)

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?) JJ is a late riser (with the amount he drinks and smokes?) and it usually takes someone coming in and shaking him awake to rouse him, especially if he went to a kegger the night before

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?) JJ is stubborn, he’ll refuse to admit that he’s tired until you quite literally drag him to bed, and after a certain time, he gets pouty and clingy and won’t let you go

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?) He definitely takes a while to open up, it’s not easy for him to trust someone but once he does, you know every single thought he has, there’s nothing he’ll keep from you

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?) It depends on the situation - if you break something of his or forget something, he genuinely doesn’t care but if you ignore him or purposely do something to hurt/annoy him, he’ll go from 0 to 100 instantly

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?) It varies - he’ll remember you saying you wanted/liked something in passing but he was no idea about your allergies or fears

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?) JJ will never forget the day you yelled at Rafe for him - Rafe had been badgering you about dumping JJ and how he wasn’t right for your ‘image’ and JJ had walked in on you screaming at Rafe about how much you loved JJ and it warmed his heart

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?) Insanely protective - he’s protective over his friends but with you, it’s an entirely different ballpark; when you’re out in public, he always has an arm around your shoulder/waist and his hand in yours; at keggers, he’s always ready to jump in if you give me a sign that you’re uncomfortable

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?) All or nothing - for significant dates, he’ll do the whole nine yards, nothing is too much but day-to-day, he’ll settle for a day out on the boat with you or a surfing date

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?) Whenever you argue, he’ll bail - he won’t show back up for a few days, obviously making you worry like crazy, but he doesn’t want to accidentally lash out at you

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?) Not at all, he knows he looks good so why would he worry?

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?) No - initially, he felt like you were his everything but overtime he’s learned that while you make him a better version of himself and he’d be devastated if you left, he’d be able to survive without you

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.) JJ has ADHD, it was Pope that suggested it and when he did, JJ was angry, he’d always been taught that having any ‘special needs’ made him weak but eventually you all sat him down and made him see that it wasn’t a bad thing

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?) Lying, he can’t stand people lying to him, especially people he loves/respects

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?) Snoring, he used to keep everyone up with his snoring until Kiara bought everyone noise-cancelling headphones and bought JJ some nose plugs 

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank headcanons #jj maybank drabble #jj maybank drabbles #outer banks imagine #outer banks imagines #outer banks headcanon #outer banks headcanons #obx imagine #obx imagines #obx headcanon #obx headcanons

[thewriterg]

♡︎sick and sound♡︎

Pairing(s): JJ Maybank x Fem!reader, Pope Heyward x Fem!reader, John B x Fem!reader, Kiara Carrera x Fem!reader —could be read as romantic or platonic—

Summary: It was officially Fall your favorite season of the year but there always seemed to be a negative with a positive with came the crisp air, burnt orange leaves, and pumpkin spice everything was flu season —flufftober; day 4–

Word count: 1.1k+

Warning(s): Sickness, mentions of throwing up, fluff and language

A/n: —GIF’s aren’t mine— So I’m kinda scared of pumpkin flavored things I haven’t had something pumpkin since I was like 11 and I hated it so I’m gonna try it again (you guys have +1 more fic coming tdy :)

First it started with your occasional sniffles and dry eyes but you just brushed it off as your seasonal allergies nothing big, nothing major, nothing to worry about.

Then came the coughing, runny nose, and feeling if you sneezed to hard you would puke and so you finally accepted the fact that you were sick so there you were laying in bed on October 4th watching Hocus Pocus for the 20th time and drinking green tea dozing in and out of sleep

The pogues couldn’t be anymore worried about you than they already were you were MIA in October your favorite month and to top it off you favorite season usually you would have already dragged them to Spirit, volunteered you all to help set up a pumpkin patch, and the only thing they would have smelled is cinnamon, vanilla, and pumpkin

The group had brushed it off the first two days of the month thinking maybe you were off planning or shopping for Halloween decorations you had enough of and didn’t need

But ever since yesterday night when you’d dropped of Things to make sandwiches, boxed pancake mix and two of the biggest pans of Lasagna any of them had ever seen just on the doorstep they couldn’t help but start to panic

JJ was pacing holes in the floor, Kie was contacting any and everyone who she knew knew you, John B was on his third can of beer at 11am, and Pope.. Pope was the only person thinking rationally at that moment

“You all need to calm down, How about we just stop at her house and if she’s not there we can drive around the island alright?” Pope was the one calming them all down but the more Kie called you and you didn’t answer the more anxiety rose in his chest

“Okay yea, yea.” JJ nodded his head in agreement the look on his face stating as if he were going over the plan in his head a million times

“You’re tipsy and drive like a grandma” JJ muttered as he was the first one out of the door rushing the pogues to hurry and pick up their feet before all four teens were loaded in the Twinkie driving off to your house

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

You had dragged you sock covered feet from your bathroom that had connected to your room back into bed the crackers you had tried to consume to put something light and airy in you but your stomach disagreed with you wholeheartedly by the time you were on the fifth cracker you felt the intense need to gag and soon went the crackers back up the hatchet

You were quite literally miserable.

You had tried to go back to sleep because your body was entirely worn and exhausted but your stuffy nose was making it difficult to breathe and you couldn’t keep your hands away from you face Especially with your eyes that itched dearly

You began to think that you were sicker than you though or if your brain were messing with you because you could swear you could hear someone in your house

There was nothing wrong with it your padlock key was the only security you really used for your house you never used the second lock just for anyone of your friends around the island needed a place to crash they had the code but you still weren’t expecting anyone

Sliding out of bed and throwing a robe over your tank top and shorts the cool air not being something you were a fan of at the moment before opening your bedroom door stepping into the hall before beginning to trail down your steps

By the time you made it to the landing of the staircase you came into view you came Into contact with 4 pairs of wide eyes before JJ tackled into you ill body with a hug you returned it softly before pushing him away which he furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head like a kicked puppy at

“I don’t want to get you sick” You muttered your voice raspy and throat sore it hurt to speak unless you were whispering like a church mouse before you burst into a fit of coughs and Pogues couldn’t help but wince it sounded as bad a nails against a chalkboard and by the look on your face they could tell it hurt.

“We don’t care if you get us sick, you always take care of us and we have to return the favor” John B piped up as the rest of the group nodded in agreement and you couldn’t help but tiredly smile muttering a grateful okay

John B came up the small amount of stairs that put a distance in between all of you lifting you of the ground his arm coming under your thighs while you rested you head on his shoulder before Kie followed behind you both while JJ and Pope made their way towards the kitchen

When you entered your room Kie began to pick up the pillows that had fell on the floor leaning them against your head board making up Your bed while John b had yet to put you back on your own two feet while he bounced you up and down like a baby

Somehow you weren’t complaining it made you feel sleepy and sending how you couldn’t stay asleep for more than ten minutes you were grateful for the motions

It was at least five minutes of John B’s consistent bouncing before he felt a heavier weight on his shoulder and your soft breaths tickling his neck to indicate your peaceful slumber Kie had just finish up making your bed more comfortable and switching out your practically empty tissue box for a new one

John b carefully approached your bed lowering you softly onto the mattress as you shuffled before settling back in JJ and Pope came through the door with 5 bowls of chicken noodle soup they found in your cabinet heating on the Stove than adding a few spices and precut vegetables to add a little something

Kie hurriedly shushed the boys pointing to your sleeping figure which they started at sheepishly before Passing out the bowls of soup to the point there were only one more left over that they sat on vanity closest to your TV

The pogues crowded around you whisper shouting at who should be closest to you squeezing one your queen sized mattress before dozing off or continuing to watch the movie you had on

That day you laid in between four squished body’s sick and sound.

#john b routledge #john b x reader #john b x y/n #john b x you #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #pope heyward #pope heyward x reader #pope heyward x y/n #pope heyward x you #kiara carerra #kiara carrera x reader #kiara carrera x y/n #kiara carrera x you #obx #obx x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #flufftober #kinktober #october #fall 2022 #romance #i love you #fluff #fem!reader #thewriterg

[inlovewithpandora]

"So, I Busted The Wrong Guy Out Of Jail, Sue Me." ᝰ JJ Maybank

ᥫ᭡ — Tracklist ᝰ Genre Keys.!

✿ - fem!reader・❖ - gn!reader・♛ - black!reader

🌊 - pogue!reader・💰- kook!reader・💞 - pregnant!reader・🌸 - mom!reader

✲ - smut・※ - suggestive・❀ - fluff・♨︎ - angst・✂︎ - hurt・☂︎ - comfort

♥︎ - romance・★ - platonic・📥 - request・🗓️ - most recent fic

ᥫ᭡ — CASSETTES ᝰ HEADCANONS.!

— new music pending.!

ᥫ᭡ — DIGITAL ᝰ DRABBLES.!

— new music pending.!

ᥫ᭡ — VINYL DISC 1 ᝰ ONESHOTS.!

— new music pending.!

ᥫ᭡ — VINYL DISC 2 ᝰ TWOSHOTS.!

— new music pending.!

ᥫ᭡ — ALBUM ᝰ SERIES.!

— new music pending.!

#❖ — 🖇️: 𝑰𝑵𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯𝑷𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑨 ~ 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻.! #jj x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj x y/n #obx smut #obx angst #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #outer banks fics #outer banks #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj x kiara #jj x kie #jj obx #obx fluff #obx fandom #jj outer banks #jj obx imagine #jj obx fic #obx jj maybank #obx jj x reader #outer banks jj #obx fic #obx series #obx spoilers

[oxpogues4lifexo]

Full Kook - JJ/Rafe Fic

Part 1/? - Bella Brooks

Summary: Part 1 is an introduction to the OC told by JJ Maybank. The lead up to my story. Overall this fic is about a troubled Pogue who finds comfort in people she least expects whilst dealing with many turns of events. A/N: This isn't planned out in any way shape or form. No reliability on the release of any parts I'm just writing this because I enjoy writing if it's not for you please move on. Warnings: Mentions of sex, alcohol, drugs, violence, abuse (mental and physical) Anything I missed lmk. Word count: 800

(Not proof read)

JJ's Pov:

Bella Elizabeth Brooks

My best friend since before I can remember. 

Most commonly known as the 'Princess of Kildare Island'; With the face of an angel and a heart of gold. The girl everyone wants to either be, or be with.

I'm pretty sure she'd give it up to anyone if she could... 

She's the perfect girl: a sweet persona, gorgeous appearance, kindest soul to exist. Who wouldn't want to be friends with her?

The answer.. everyone.

She has a close-knit group of friends, only through her dad. Me, because our dads used to be close friends, Sarah because him and Ward are disgustingly inseparable, and then Topper and Kelce because.. well.. Rafe. 

Swiftly moving on..

Bella's the type of person that people don't particularly see as a friend, but more of someone they can go to if they need something. She thinks it's a compliment; that people go to her when in desperate need of help. 

But no just.. no.

She's a toy.. pretty much sums it up; an easy target. 

It makes me sick thinking about it. 

People take advantage of her empathy, her soft attitude, the fact she can't say no. They see her as someone who can get away with anything and use that to their own benefit. 

She puts everyone first, doesn't want there to be any bad in the world, likes to make everyone happy anyway she can. Even if it means breaking herself in the process.

So my duty as her best friend is to keep her safe from the world. Keep her away from the bad. 

It physically hurts to know about the way people see her, and so I feel as if it's my job to protect her from ever dealing with it again. Dealing with the pain and the hurt she puts herself through for others who deserve nothing but a stick up their ass. 

She's my priority. And I will let nothing get in the way of me taking care of her and treating her how she deserves. 

Except for one tiny problem..

Thomas Brooks. - The man who created the Island's untouchable sweetheart.

Let's just say he's got a bad reputation.. but having Ward on his side gives him MAJOR  advantages. 

Don't get me wrong, the Brooks family is THE MOST respected family on the Island but just.. for the wrong reasons. 

And sadly it's not my place to say. Sorry, not sorry. I hate talking about it. 

Anyways, Bella is my everything and before you say ANYTHING, it's purely platonic. 

Well, to her. 

But, with everything she's been put through with all the fucking leeches in the OBX, I don't blame her and I wouldn't ask for it any other way. 

She's my rock, my girl. And no one will EVER take her from me. At least, they can try but it won't end well. Speaking from experience.

Enough about Bella.. but more about Bella..

She lives on the Cut, with me. Well no actually I live with her but, same thing. 

She has never once moaned about the little amounts of money her dad earns, and never once made a single comment about where she lives. 

It's this run down shack-like house. Imagine the Chateau but just.. worse. 

The walls are boarded up from the masses of storms that have destroyed what used to be there causing the remains to become rotten. The windows are cracked and the furniture is far from usable. 

The only healthy-ish part of the house? Bella's room.

It's a huge contrast from the rest of the building, almost like it was placed there separately. The wall's a bright white colour, her soft bedding and her drawers overflowing with colourful clothing puts the rest of the place to shame. A large window overlooks her room, filling it with more light than the whole house sees combined. 

The reason behind this is because her dad isn't the greatest dad. But in his defence he's aware. And so he spends the only bit of money he has on her - Always. Without any slight slither of guilt. He would give her the world if he could and she knows that, which is why she excuses his actions. 

She holds a pretty smile to cover the hurt she feels beneath. Her vibrant choice in her room reflects the young girl inside of her. 

She hasn't got an easy life and if it wasn't for me living with her, I wouldn't understand.

If the island really knew why she's the way she is.. they wouldn't want to be her. 

Please let me know what you think x

#jj maybank #jj outer banks #jj obx #rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #obx #rafe imagine #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #outerbanks #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks fic #outerbanks jj #rudy pankow #jj imagine

[writingjjfics]

Pogues to the rescue!

Pairing: JJ Maybank x kook!reader, Platonic!Pogues x kook!reader

Summary: JJ and the Pogues come to rescue Y/n from her Kook family party.

Warnings: Kooks

Requested?: Yes! See request here!

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: Guess who's back? back again? It's moi! I apologize for how extremely long this took, life got in the way 🙂 also I did change the request a bit, and got some inspiration from the midsummers episode, hope that's okay! Oh and Sarah is not part of the Pogues for the sake of the story (not my gif)

The last few hours of your life have been a bore. You were stuck at this table with egocentric old kook people who could only talk about their 'perfect' lives and their well-succeeded grandchildren. You tried your best to show interest, but your mind kept drifting off. You nodded politely at them, and every so often, you mustered up a fake smile to make them think that you were listening to their boring stories.

When you noticed that their attention was no longer on you, which was hardly surprising considering how egocentric they all are, you quietly got up from the table and left. After quickly scanning the backyard in search of your mother, you, fortunately, spotted her in a conversation with her best friends. Taking advantage of the opportunity, you made your way inside the house to use the bathroom.

As you sat down on the toilet, you felt relieved. Not only because you could finally pee, but also after hours of miserably pretending to be anything close to a Kook, you could let your guard down here, even if it was just for a few minutes.

Taking your phone from your clutch, you check for any notifications that you might have missed in the last few hours. While scrolling through Instagram, you noticed your boyfriend had posted a video on his story. In the video, JJ was smoking his Juul, surrounded by the rest of the Pogues who were dancing and singing to some song in the background.

JJ's happy smile, as he hung out with the Pogues, made you feel a sense of joy for him. The Pogues are his true family and he deserves to be this happy and comfortable all the time. Sometimes you were jealous of their relationship. Even though your family has money and shows their love and care for you in their own, unique way, you've always felt like you don't quite fit in with them. It's as if you're the odd one out. At least the Pogues always have each other and their bond is unbreakable.

You snapped a quick selfie and sent it to JJ, showing him how extremely bored you were. After putting your phone back in your clutch bag, you let out a deep sigh, realizing you had to get back to the party before your mom would put up 'missing child' posters. However, as you reached for the door handle, you heard your ringtone go off. A picture you had taken of JJ at the beach during sunset a few weeks ago, filled your phone screen. A warm feeling spread through your chest as you answered the phone, grateful that he had taken the time to call you back.

"Party that bad, huh?", JJ chuckled as he spoke.

"If I have to listen to these fake people for a minute longer, I'll pull a van Gogh myself"

You could hear JJ snickering. "That's one way to answer that question"

"Can't you just hack into a system and send some emergency alert or something?", you whined.

"Honey, I'm definitely not as smart as Pope, but what I can do is try to sneak you away?"

"Tempting as that sounds, my mom would kill me"

"C'mon baby, we both know your mom loves her reputation too much to kill her daughter", JJ joked.

You rolled your eyes. "Very funny JJ, besides I don't want to be a burden to the rest of the Pogues."

You heard JJ scoff. Since knowing JJ, you've met the Pogues a few times, yet each meeting seemed to grow more awkward than the previous one. JJ always reassures you that the rest of the Pogues just have a hard time getting comfortable around the idea that he is dating a kook, or well just kooks in general, and that it's never because of your personality. "Before you know it, they will love you as much as I do", was what he told you occasionally. But you just can't help taking it personal.

"Y/n, stop being so stubborn, and let us help you. I want you here as much as you want to leave that party. Be ready in ten. I won't take no for an answer."

You were about to protest, but before you could, the distant chatter of the other Pogues in the background went silent, indicating that JJ had already ended the call.

After giving yourself a final look in the mirror and letting out another heavy breath, you opened the door and made your way back to the party outside.

Everyone was still engrossed in conversation, and it appeared that no one noticed you had been gone. It gives you a glimmer of hope that you might be able to slip away from the party without your parents noticing. However, at the same time, you can't help but recall a few years ago when you did the same thing, only to receive a month-long grounding from them.

After nervously looking ahead for a while, and making up different scenarios in your head, you suddenly feel a tap on your shoulder. Irritated, thinking it's one of your parents wanting to remind you to be more social, you turn around.

"You look like you could use another drink. Can I maybe offer you this one?"

In front of you stood JJ, dressed up as a waiter, holding a champagne glass. He gave you that annoying but charming smirk of his.

You took the champagne from him and chugged the entire drink, making JJ chuckle.

"Thanks, you always know exactly what I need babe"

You and JJ both laughed and you turned around looking for your parents. Your mother was still talking to her friends, while your father discussed work matters as usual.

"C'mon, let's go before my parents see us leaving". You were still nervous about the consequences, but decided that, that would be a problem for later. There's nothing you want more than to be with JJ right now.

JJ took your hand and quickly led you to the front of the house. Before reaching the gate, he suddenly stopped and gave you a kiss.

"Hi baby", he spoke softly.

You smiled. "Hi, Jay".

JJ gestured with his head towards the gate. "The others are right outside waiting for us." He squeezed your hand to reassure you that it was going to be okay. You nodded and followed him.

As you turned the corner, you saw the rest of the Pogues waiting next to the Twinkie. They were talking, but stopped abruptly when they saw the two of you approaching. Pope waved shyly towards you, while John B approached you enthusiastically. "That was quick"

"Yeah, I thought those kooks would give you more trouble", Kie said, rolling her eyes and emphasizing the words 'those kooks'. You saw Pope nudge Kiara. “Sorry, no offense to you of course”, she quickly realized her mistake. You smiled weakly and shrugged your shoulder. 'Well, luckily I don't see myself as a Kook'.

There was an awkward silence until JJ cleared his throat and walked over to the Twinkie to open the door. "Let's go back to the Chateau shall we?"

You got into the back of the Twinkie first, expecting JJ to follow you, but instead, it was Kie and Pope as John B and JJ got into the front seats having their own conversation. Kie sat beside you and turned toward you.

"Hey, I want to apologize if we ever made you feel unwelcome. We just had to get used to a new person in the group, but we see how happy you make JJ and that is the most important thing for us."

"Yeah, and you're real nice and fun to hang out with Y/n", Pope added.

You smiled, "Thanks, that means a lot to me."

"And I'm actually happy there is finally a girl in this group, I love these boys but I also really need some girl time", Kiara said making everyone laugh.

You locked eyes with JJ who was already smiling and gave you a wink. A few seconds later you heard your phone go off and saw that you received a text from JJ that said "I told you they were going to love you." You rolled your eyes at him, but chuckled nonetheless. You finally felt like you belonged there.

The rest of the night was spent hanging out at the Chateau, laughing, dancing, and getting to know the Pogues better.

As for your parents, you later found out that they had tried to call you many times that night, so you ended up being grounded again, but you really couldn't care less because JJ and the Pogues were helping you through it. They would always be there for you.

aaaah the end!! so so happy I finally finished a fic again. I was busy with my graduation project and had massive writers block, but I'm back! So if you have any requests or you just want to talk to me? LMK ❤️ Okay, love you byee x

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj obx #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x fem!reader #obx #outer banks #outerbanks #obx fanfic #obx fluff #reader x platonic!pogues #poguestyle

[cxsmiclore]

THE RULES: please take a minute to read the terms and conditions for browsing my blog!

here's my DNI criteria warning, this blog may contain [N]SFW, and dark content. if you can't handle any of that, then don't follow. read through the remainder of my rules to avoid being blocked.

OVERVIEW

do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing anywhere.

do not send me a request you sent to another writer.

do not request a series.

please always send requests through my ask box

feel free to be as specific in your request, it really helps my writing when you're detailed in what you want to see in the fic but don't be too specific where you need to send another ask cause you ran past the word limit in asks.

please specify if you want fem!reader, or male!reader or black!reader or albino!reader.

if you don't see something listed here, you can send me an ask and ask me if i'm comfortable doing a trope/kink and i'll let you know.

WHO I'll WRITE FOR?

𝜗𝜚 bridgerton: anthony bridgerton, benedict bridgerton, colin bridgerton, daphne bridgerton, king george III, queen charlotte + simon basset.

𝜗𝜚 diary of a wimpy kid: rodrick heffley.

𝜗𝜚 gossip girl: blair wardorf, chuck bass, dan humphrey, nate archibald + serena van der woodsen.

𝜗𝜚 marvel: hobie brown, miguel o'hara + peter parker ( andrew & tom ).

𝜗𝜚 outer banks: jj maybank, john b routlege, kiara carrera, pope heyward, rafe cameron + sarah cameron.

𝜗𝜚 stardew valley: alex, abigail, elliot, haley, maru, sam, sebastian + shane.

WHAT I'LL WRITE.

𝜗𝜚 reader inserts: fem! reader ( for both female & male characters, male reader ( only for female characters ), gn! reader, kook! reader, pogue! reader, routlege! reader, cameron! reader, maybank! reader, carrera! reader, heyward! reader, ambiguous + poc friendly.

𝜗𝜚 genres: angst to fluff, fluff, hurt/comfort, modern au, smut, platonic/romantic requests, pregnancy, marriage/mates, modern aus, parent au, courting/future mates, anxiety, infidelity, cheating ; only where reader gets cheated on and the character comforts them, smaus, protective/possessive behavior + insecurities.

𝜗𝜚 kinks: age-gap (as long as both are of age), light bdsm, breeding kink, dom!character/sub!reader, sub!character/dom!reader, switch!character, praise kink, daddy kink, lactation kink, heats/ruts/knotting, ownership/claiming/marking, cockwarming, quirofilia, dub-con, gagging/choking, voyeurism, exhibitionism, stepcest, size kink, belly bulge, corruption, anal/anilingus, orgasm denial, biting, impact play (to an extent) + katoptronophilia.

𝜗𝜚 tropes: friends to lovers, soulmates/fated mates trope, jealousy, enemies to lovers, office romance/coworkers to lovers, forbidden love, enemies to friends to lovers, second chance, childhood friends to lovers, rivals to lovers, rivals to friends to lovers, exes to lovers, opposites attract, blind to love, rich vs poor, fake relationship, forced proximity/stuck together + etc ( just ask me if i'll write a trope if you don't see it in this list ).

WHAT I'LL NOT WRITE.

𝜗𝜚 reader inserts: trans! reader + white reader ( please do not ask me to write for specifically white readers, your req will be deleted ).

𝜗𝜚 genres: death, cheating ; the reader cheats on character, non con, cnc, incest, r*pe, su*c*de/su*c*d*al thoughts, abuse, self-harm, yandere, abortion/miscarriages, gore, eating disorders, heavy trauma, heavy violence, sexual assault, pedophilia, underage sex + race play.

𝜗𝜚 kinks: age regression, vomit kink, mommy kink, foot fetishes, piss/feces kink, pegging, DDLC, knife play, gun play + kidnapping (as in like reader falls in love w the person who kidnapped them).

#ꪶ guidelines ꫂ #bridgerton fandom #bridgerton fanfiction #rodrick heffley fanfiction #gossip girl fanfiction #marvel fandom #atsv fandom #atsv fanfiction #stardew valley fandom #stardew valley fanfic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #marvel fanfiction

[notbreathing-aer]

my favorite fics:

1.A Crack In The Glass by kaynothanks

Summary: Sarah asked you to meet John B at a kegger-party on the other side of the island, but your not-so-social self quickly flees the scene, only to catch the attention of a certain blonde Pogue.

Prompts: “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

Warnings: disgusting fluff and some smutty scenes hehe

Word-Count:+8k

no because its so cute and precious and fluffy- i relate to y/n so much in this fic and it makes it all the more wonderful to read

@kaynothanks

2. promise by jjs-bitch

SUMMARY: after confessing your feelings to your best friend in a swirl of emotions, resulting in probably the worst outcome you can imagine, you soon come to realize he was in just as much pain as you.

PAIRINGS: jj maybank x fem!pouge!reader , pop heyward x fem!pouge!reader (platonic)

WORD COUNT: 10.6k (she do be a long one, but it's worth it)

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, depictions of smut

literally crying so bad, its so good and AGAIN RELATABLE UNFORTUNATELY. only read if you can handle a great story while crying !! but read anyways cause its so good

@jjs-bitch

3. Supernatural by collecting-stories

OKAY LOOK- THIS ONE IS SO FUCKING CUTE AND A G A I N RELATABLE. I JUST- I WANT SOMEONE TO JUST WATCH SHOWS WITH MY FOREVER AND TAKE INTEREST IN MY INTERESTS :(

JUST LOOK AT THESE QUOTES DUDE

@collecting-stories

4. only bought this dress so you could take it off by lnnlove

summary: ANGST!!! fem!reader and jj are best friends that hook up one night after a party. afterwards, you are left with feelings for jj that are more than friendship, but he insists it can never happen again and that makes you certain that you don’t want him like a best friend. 

warnings: marijuana use, alcohol use, making out, mentions of sex, cussing

word count: 7.9k

FKDKKDKDKDKDK THIS SITUATION I CAN RELATE TO ALL TOO MUCH AND IT HAD ME CRYING SO BAD- but its just such a well written fic and i loved it so much even though it hurt. this is how i wish my situation ended up

@lnnlove

5. Goodmorning by lovelyjj

sleepy!reader x jj name a better duo<33

pouges x platonic reader :)

word count: 1,935

its so short but its so goddamn cute it makes my heart melt adkjfaf

@lovelyjj

#literally giving me life #these fics fuel my will to live #you authors are gods #i love you sm #my favorite golden boy #obx #obx fic #pouges #jj mayback imagine #obx imagine #outer banks #jj maybank #pope heyward #kiara carrera #john b routledge #sarah cameron

[chateaudepogues]

Wasteland, Baby — Chapter One: Trouble Is. . .

Summary: It’s the beginning of summer and Hurricane Agatha sweeps her way across Kildare Island. It’s the beginning of summer and an adventure like they’ve never seen before when the Pogues discover a sunken Grady-White out in the marsh. It’s the beginning of summer and everything leads back to a compass. . .

A/N: A repost of the first chapter of my Outer Banks fic titled Wasteland, Baby. Apologies and welcome back to those who have already read it.

Pairings: John B Routledge x OC, JJ Maybank x OC (platonic)

Warnings: underage drinking, drug use, violence, abuse, social & class division, murder/attempted murder, suggestive themes. General Outer Banks warnings apply. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 19.2k

[Wasteland, Baby Masterlist]

John B: We're the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time.

Summer on Kildare Island was John B's favourite season. It was a time when he and his friends got together and did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, without restriction. They cheered and laughed their way through restless days, to the late hours of sleepless nights when everything and everyone lay still. He liked to think that in another life, they had it all.

He often found himself desperate for more time; wishing on stars for things that only happened in fairytales. He couldn't accept that life would never be better than the cruel mundanity it was, certain that something more existed just beyond his reach. If only he could figure out how to get it.

His old Volkswagen chugged along the empty upscale residential neighbourhood until he reached his final destination. He parked down the street and turned to face the girl sitting beside him in the passenger seat; he needed to make the remainder of their week count. Would summer even feel like summer without her?

Their friends climbed out of the sliding passenger door and waited for the quiet pair to join them.

When JJ suggested grabbing a case of beer and hanging out at the mansion-to-be, no one disagreed. When John B said they needed to make a pit stop on the way and rescue Atlas from work, they wouldn't hear of going without her. Their ragtag band of misfits did everything together or not at all.

John B climbed through the incomplete skeleton of the lavish summer home to the back deck behind his friends. Approaching the unfinished edge, he peered out over the horizon; they made it just in time to watch the sunset. The first of many tasks on his quest to make Atlas' last week on the island an epic one.

“Hey, Attie? If we get caught, you think the sheriff will let us off with a warning?” John B asked. He focused his attention on climbing the scaffolding to the roof with a can of beer tucked under his chin.

“Doubt it. I'm still on thin ice for the last stunt we pulled. But what's another disappointment added to the list?” she said. Atlas cocked her head to the side, and a curtain of chestnut brown beach waves fell across her forehead; she had a smile that gave the sun a run for its money.

Kind slate blue eyes stared up at John B as he made his way to the opposite end of the roof. “Hey, Booker?”

“Yeah?”

“Ten bucks says you drop that beer.”

“I'm not gonna drop the beer, Attie.”

“Sure. But ten bucks if you do.”

“Okay, deal.”

“Quit flirting with my sister, John B.” JJ interrupted their playful banter with a pointed look at his best friend, but the teasing grin on his face betrayed his harsh tone. He gave Atlas an unsteady bow, motioning to the scaffolding John B climbed moments before, then offered her a boost up. “Ladies first.”

“Call me a lady one more time, Maybank, and I'll punch your teeth in,” she bit back with an evil smile.

“Your beer. . .milady,” JJ sang. His baby blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight and John B saw the moment peace washed over Atlas; he knew she missed JJ when they were apart. With a dramatic flourish, he proffered a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, then opened one for himself. It truly was the perfect way to watch an Outer Banks sunset.

“Hey, Pope”―below them, the boy in a maroon polo glanced up at Atlas from where he stood toying with a cordless drill―“how long would you say that drop is?”

Pope, the brains of the group, and inarguably the smartest among them, looked up from where he was on the deck to where John B balanced on the roof above. “Mmm, about 40 feet, give or take.”

John B tried not to focus on the small ribbon of grey that swirled at the center of Atlas' grey-blue eyes as she studied him; a calculated expression pinching her eyebrows together in the middle. “All right. Ten bucks you drop the beer. Twenty if you fall.”

The lanky brunet sighed and shookhis head, his shaggy hair dancing lightly against his neck. “Fine. Get ready to pay up, 'cause I'm not gonna do either.” He took another desperate gulp from his can and lazily held his arms out at his sides. I would give you everything I own if you asked me to. . .

“That's what, a three-story fall to the deck? I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival,” Pope informed pointedly.

“Hm. Should I do it?”

“Yeah, you should jump. I'll shoot you on the way down.”

“You gonna shoot me?”

“Yep.”

“Pew!”

A warm breeze swept over the four teens, ruffling John B's hair, and bringing with it the smell of saltwater and freedom. The sun bathed the horizon in an array of colours like the finest oil painting he'd ever seen. This was summer. This was freedom. This was everything John B had been dreaming of since the school year began. There was nothing in the world he would trade these moments for.

“Yo, Kiara, where'd you go?” Atlas called happily and the girl in question emerged from inside.

“They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers.”

JJ hummed thoughtfully from his spot beside Atlas, their legs swinging restlessly. “Of course, they are. Why wouldn't they?”

“This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess?”

“I can't have cold towels,” the blond argued playfully. He ducked away from Atlas' playful slap to the bill of his hat, unseating the careworn red cap. He loved irritating his friends, especially Kiara. He answered the gesture with a grin and fixed his hat.

John B smiled at the exchange between them; he adored his friends.

“Well, they're rich, Kie. What do you expect?” Atlas said.

Kiara choosing not to answer, instead redirected her attention to John B balancing on the end of the roof with no intention of climbing down. As the voice of reason among them, she scolded, “Can you please not kill yourself?”

Atlas tipped her head back, shielding her eyes from the sun. She wasn't about to lose out on easy money. 

They learned early in their friendship that both of them could be suckered in or out of anything simply by turning the situation into a bet, and they rather enjoyed making a fool out of each other. The problem was, that they both hated losing which often resulted in ridiculous stakes.

He met her challenging gaze with one of his own.

“Mm-mm. Do not ruin this for me, Kie. I'm about to be ten-to-twenty dollars richer.” She sipped her beer and waved the daredevil boy off with a two-finger salute. “As you were, John B.”

“Don't spill that beer. I'm not giving you another one,” warned JJ.

“Whoa! Oh, shit.” John B leaned back as his weight shifted, his grip on the beer can loosened and it sailed to the deck floor below. The wind whipped around him, tousling his shoulder-length brown hair. At least he hadn't fallen to his death. He groaned, and Atlas smiled triumphantly back at him. He knew better than to take such a risky bet.

“Of course you did. Like right when I told you not to.” JJ laid his head on Atlas' shoulder.

“A-plus, Booker. Bravo.” Atlas clapped mockingly.

“Smooth. When will you two grow up?” Kiara asked, annoyed.

John B grinned down at the pair tucked away in a world of their own, enjoying a laugh at his expense. “Not today, Kie. Not today.”

He had to admit, though it stung losing money to his best friend, spending their last week together being as reckless as possible was sure to make the highlight reel. What made their time together special wasn't what they did but who they did it with. Anything was worth it as long as he had the Pogues.

Atlas squinted into the sunlight as if it would help her hear better and looked down at Kiara. “Hey. Do you guys hear that? JJ, shut up.”

“Hey, uh, security's here.” Pope leaned over the railing and turned back to the others, worry written all over his face. “Let's wrap it up.”

The fun part of breaking the rules was the adrenaline rush that came with almost getting caught. Their risky behaviour hardly ever caught up with them because no one cared enough to pay close attention. JJ, John B and Atlas scrambled down from the scaffolding and followed Kiara and Pope back through the balcony door. Getting busted by security hadn't made the top of their to-do list.

They rushed through the house; cutting around corners, racing down the stairs, and bursting out of the garage before Gary the Security Guard could get his hands on any of them. It became a game of cat and mouse, and much like Jerry, they always outsmarted him. The quintet split up and raced in opposite directions, adrenaline pumping wildly through their veins.

“Atlas, is that you?” Gary called after the young girl, huffing along behind them toward the back fence.

“Uh, nope, sorry! You have me confused with someone else!”

No matter how many times they did it, somehow always leaving Atlas behind to be the decoy left John B's stomach in knots. Tried and true, they were the group's fastest runners, but he was the one with the license. . .and the getaway car. It just made sense. What were two minutes hiding behind a hedge for a lifetime of thrill?

The Twinkie's horn sounded loud and unyielding around the corner and relief flooded John B's system when Atlas bounded toward them at a lazy jog. They had their routine down, he couldn't be prouder of his crew.

“Your chariot awaits, Princess.”

Atlas marched up to the passenger side and climbed in, pulling JJ's cap from his head and placing it backwards on hers. She could barely hear her voice past the sound of her heartbeat roaring in her ears. “Shut up, Maybank. And you owe me ten bucks, Routledge.”

“I can't believe we pulled that off. I thought you were dead meat for sure.” Kiara pressed a hand to her chest, leaning against the back of the passenger seat as Atlas climbed over her. Pope hummed in agreement.

“No way, A is a pro! She's got that Maybank blood in her,” JJ praised confidently, taking his hat back. He gave his friend a proud grin, reaching between the front seats to bump their fists together. 

John B passed a $10 bill to his right and crossed the bridge out of the neighbourhood.

John B: The Outer Banks, paradise on Earth. It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island.

All right. So, this is Figure Eight, the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So, guess where we don't live.

As he drove away from the north side of the island, John B couldn't stop wondering about what their summer would be like. He wanted an adventure worthy enough to tell stories about. Knowing Atlas wouldn't be with them had the gang feeling more than a little melancholy, but that's how things went sometimes.

The best they could do was carry on.

And then, this is the south side or the Cut home of the working class who make a living busing tables, washing yachts, running charters. The natural habitat of. . .drumroll please. . .the Pogues. That's us.

Pogues, pogies, the throwaway fish. Lowest members of the food chain. Okay. So, the downside of Pogue life is we're ignored and neglected. But the upside of Pogue life? We're ignored and neglected, which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want.

With foster care looming over his head, John B chose, instead, to focus on what he could control of the moment at hand: cruising in what remained of the afternoon sun with the windows down and music blaring from the radio.

He arrived at the Country Club in record time and parked behind the large building, waiting for Atlas to emerge from its clutches. An SOS text after the storm warning for Hurricane Agatha was all it took to get his mind off of his troubles. Though he wondered how he was going to tell her about DCS. If they caught him at home without an adult, it'd be a one-way ticket off of the island.

“You're a lifesaver, John B!” Atlas all but shrieked on her way out of the employee entrance. Her chestnut waves blew wildly in the wind, grey-blue eyes reflecting the incoming stormy sky overhead. “Heyward's got the boys on last-minute lockdown deliveries, JJ can't pick me up today.”

John B smiled at the sight of his best friend and leaned over to open the passenger door. He momentarily forgot all of his woes in her presence. “Anytime.”

They rode in comfortable silence, neither feeling the need to fill it with small talk about their day. John B knew enough to tell when the days had been rougher than usual, being apart from JJ did that to her. And Atlas knew the uncertainty of his dad's whereabouts kept him up at night. They didn't talk about it.

“Attie, am I takin' you home tonight?” John B asked as he turned into the all-too-familiar neighbourhoods they grew up in.

She rested her head against the passenger window, watching vicious storm clouds roll in over their usually sunny island town. “You, me and JJ tonight. Like always. You don't fuck with tradition, John B.” 

What will summer be like without you? It was a passing thought, one John B knew they all had countless times.

Hurricane season wasn't unusual on Kildare Island. Tropical storms roaring up the coast occurred just about every year; what made them special was having people you love to wait it out with. And for John B, those people were Atlas and JJ. It began when they were little, one night when JJ needed an escape from his dad and Atlas simply wanted to do anything other than listen to Sheriff Peterkin drone on about storm safety and patrolling around the island. Big John let both kids stay over, and the four of them hunkered down together in the Château.

They soon discovered it was way less frightening when you had your two favourite people by your side. Ever since that first night, when a storm was slated to roll through Outer Banks, John B prepped the fish shack with Atlas and JJ's help, and the three friends continued their tradition. 

“You know what? I have an idea.” John B's eyes lit up. He parked the van outside the Château and clumsily climbed ― more like fell ― from the driver's seat without another word. His ideas usually meant some form of trouble.

Atlas hung her head out of the window and watched him disappear into the fish shack. “Wait! John B! Where are you going?”

“Just stay there! I'll be right back!”

When it seemed like the minutes would turn into hours before John B returned, he appeared around the side of the shack with their surfboards. After strapping the boards to the rack on the roof of his van, he slid behind the wheel and backed down the gravel lane. Atlas immediately recognized the look of mischief settled in his rich brown eyes. “16 and crazy” was how Sheriff Peterkin often described John Booker Routledge to the girl, a title he regularly lived up to.

It didn't take long for them to reach the middle of town, meet up with Pope, or convince him to go too. Smart as he was, Pope had the same dumbass idea as John B. And Atlas was along for the ride.

Ocean waves swelled with the anger of a storm seeking to raze Outer Banks to the ground, which did little to deter the three friends who changed into board shorts and raced toward the beach with boards in hand. Rain fell in thick, demanding sheets, lightning cracked restlessly across a darkened grey sky, and thunder bellowed in the distance. They ran.

“It's a double overhead out there, bro,” Pope said.

“Double overhead?” questioned John B.

“Those aren't surfable waves, bro.”

“Says who?”

If he tried hard enough, John B could picture Sheriff Peterkin's scowl and hear the stern tone in her voice as she chastised the three teenagers for getting into more trouble that she'd have to clean up. Only if they were caught.

“He knows this is crazy, right? There's no way we can surf out there,” Pope stated, turning to Atlas for help.

“Trust me, he knows. It's John B, crazy is his middle name,” Atlas laughed. She shrugged out of the t-shirt she wore over her bathing suit — she wouldn't need it where she was going.

“No, his middle name is Booker. Where are you going? Seriously, those waves will kill you.”

“Relax, Pope. Loosen up, have some fun.” John B secured the cuff to his ankle and picked up his board. Breathing in the smell of lightning and rain and ocean, he let it all wash over him and gave his friends a thumbs up.

“Twenty bucks says you totally bite it out there, Book.”

“You're on, Attie.”

“I can't believe you're letting him surf the surge alone, A.” Pope shook his head.

Atlas waved him off. “Eh, I've done worse. Who said I was letting him go alone?”

“You can't be serious?”

“I got twenty dollars riding on this. And, someone's got to identify the body when he dies.” She winked. Atlas finished securing her ankle cuff and picked up her board, and followed John B beyond the BEACH CLOSED DUE TO HURRICANE sign. Another easy bet for the record books.

Pope panicked. “You mean ‘if’. . . You do mean ‘if,’ right?” His shouts were lost in the storm.

There was something unique about John B and Atlas' friendship that couldn't be found anywhere else; she understood him in ways no one else did, and never tried to change who he was. She accepted the parts of him that others found unlikable and liked the parts of him that others found unacceptable. To John B, Atlas was the glue that held the Pogues together.

“See you on the other side,” he promised.

“As you were, John B,” she answered with a two-finger salute.

John Booker Routledge was 16 and crazy.

That evening saw Agatha's reign of terror over the island; the following morning saw what remained.

The rooster's crow roused John B from the comfort of dreamless sleep. Upon waking, he was aware of two things: they survived the storm, and they had no idea what waited for them outside.

He rolled over to check his phone, saw there was no service and sighed. With no way to contact the others, they were heading into a boring day. He guessed he should be grateful, DCS wouldn't be able to get ahold of him until the towers were back online. Getting out of bed, he flipped the light switch on and off, no power either. Everything to the south side of the island was down until further notice (Figure Eight had generators).

But John B was used to this, he was used to living in darkness, doing things by flash-or-candlelight and eating out of cans until the mainland or County got the power back on, but. . .he didn't have to like it. Being a Pogue was amazing, being poor was not.

He pulled on yesterday's now-dry board shorts and headed to the living room where JJ spent the night sprawled out on the hide-a-bed. The younger boy gave Atlas the spare room on the grounds of “protecting only the best of friends during the storm and shit,” and she didn't fight him on it.

“Yo, JJ, you been outside?” John B slapped his best friend on the back as he passed by.

“I have polio, bro,” JJ replied, turning his face into the cushion. “I can't walk.”

“Yeah, whatever. Atlas!” John B yelled for the girl over his shoulder, continuing through the screen door to the patio and down the stairs. He raked a hand through his messy hair and surveyed the damage left behind in Agatha's wake. “Yo, Attie!”

“Over here, B!”

“Oh, man. That's not good. . . That is no good,” he said, following the direction of her voice around the uprooted tree in the middle of the yard.

“Nope, sure isn't.” Atlas stepped around the large root ball and stood next to John B's hazy-eyed form. She checked him over before turning back to the tree. “That Aggie left us quite the mess. You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks.”

She grinned.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Couldn't sleep.” He didn't need her to explain why. “Oh, you're gonna love this. JJ up yet?”

“Nah. Why didn't you wake me?” He knew Atlas hated storms, he would sit up with her all night if that's what it took to make sure she was okay.

She didn't answer, John B let it go.

He followed her across the yard; the morning sun beamed down on them through the remaining storm clouds and John B considered how well the grey-blue of Atlas' eyes mirrored the sky during and after a storm. He shook his head, there were rules.

“Oh, man. . .” John B huffed. Before he could stop her, Atlas climbed up on the back of the HMS Pogue. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Dude, she's covered in branches.” Atlas swatted his hands away and hoisted herself into the boat. “You love this thing. That Agatha's a bitch.”

“Agatha did some work, huh?” JJ called from the back porch.

John B took the branches from his friend's hands and tossed them aside. “Yeah, she did. Atlas, will you get down?”

“Nope.”

“You're stupid if you think she's gettin' down from there.”

“Thank you, JJ.” Atlas grinned. “See? Someone's on my side.”

“What you thinkin'?” JJ asked, approaching the boat.

“I'm thinkin' that storm surge pushed all the crabs out on the marsh maze. All those drum are gonna chase the crab.”

“What about the DCS? Wasn't that today?”

John B looked up at the stunned expression on Atlas' face, he hadn't told her about his meeting with DCS or Cheryl wanting to do a check-in with his uncle. In all of the excitement of the previous afternoon, he forgot to mention it. He set his eyes over the horizon, “Nah, they're not gettin' on a ferry. Come on, think about it. It's God tellin' us to fish.”

Atlas places her hands on her hips and looked pensively between the two boys. “Well, if God's tellin' us to fish, then. . .”

“Then what are we waitin' for?” JJ finished for her.

The trio changed clothes and packed “only the essentials” as John B put it, clearing the rest of the debris in no time at all. And soon enough, they were on their way to the marina to pick up Pope for a day of drum fishing in the marsh.

“Sure hope Guffy's boat didn't sink. He doesn't have insurance,” JJ said as they entered the marina's No Wake Zone, taking stock of the ships docked there.

“Not like the Pogue does either, J,” Atlas reminded flatly.

“Yeah, but what's a couple of branches to water damage, Siren? Think about that.”

“He's got a point, Attie. Hi, Miss Amy!” John B sailed slowly by the docks, greeting their neighbours. “You guys get through it?”

“Still here,” she answered, smiling at the teens.

“She totally looked at me,” said JJ.

“I saw it,” answered John B.

Atlas rolled her eyes. “Ew, can you not perpetuate his weird thing for older women?”

“You”―JJ lightly punched her on the shoulder―“are a fucking buzzkill.”

They continued around the docks and met the full extent of the storm's disaster. It wasn't anything new to the trio of friends, but it didn't stop the shock of seeing it again up close.

For the girl who put everyone else before herself, the girl who only ever saw the good in him, the girl who dared to dream of something better ― John B needed the day to be perfect. Atlas deserved that much. He could see it in her eyes, the way her thoughts drifted to a time long ago, a time before the Pogues. Back then, life for Atlas was even more uncertain than it was now. Atlas spent too much time trying to pay him back for keeping her and JJ out of trouble ― if only she knew he did it all for her. . .

“Hey, punk. Don't bitch out on us now.” JJ's warning sounded in John B's ears, it was meant for Atlas but John B needed the reminder now and then. Neither boy asked if she was okay, they didn't talk about it.

She offered him a small pained smile and stole his cap, a familiar action she often did to provide herself small comfort. JJ let her. “I'm good. But this place isn't.”

“Hurricane surge. We're gonna be cleaning this all summer,” JJ lamented woefully.

“That is my nightmare,” Atlas and John B said as one.

“You owe me a beer,” she quickly tacked on and he groanee.

John B pulled the Pogue to the end of the Heywards' dock where Pope stood filling a bucket with water. Behind him sat a large pile of garbage from the wreckage left behind by the storm; they could easily guess his father enlisted his help in cleaning, but they'd arrived to disrupt the natural order of the day. Drum fishing waited for no one and required all of the Pogues.

“Well, look who we have here,” JJ said. He whooped loud enough for Pope to hear him as they approached.

John B cupped his right hand around his mouth and spoke into his left shoulder. “We have a safety meeting. Attendance mandatory.”

Pope sighed dejectedly, “I can't. My pop's got me on lockdown.”

“Come on, man,” JJ urged, mimicking radio static, “your dad's a pussy. Over.”

Heyward stopped behind his son on the dock. “Oh, I heard that, you little bastard.”

“We need your son,” John B tried.

“Yeah, and island rules. Day after a hurricane's a free day.”

“Who the hell made that up?”

“Uh. . . Pentagon, I think. We have security clearance. I have a card.”

Atlas laughed, watching Pope negotiate his release from chores with his father. She knew their friend's antics weren't helping, but they sure made for prime entertainment. “Come on, Pope,” she encouraged, “we're burning daylight. Get in the boat.”

“Get in the boat,” John B whispered behind her at the helm.

JJ agreed, “Make a run for it, bro.”

Pope ran; they cheered.

“How does that feel?”

“Go, go, go.”

“Pope, you never cease to amaze me.” Atlas swapped JJ's cap for her sunglasses and settled on the bow.

The sun warmed their skin, despite the slight shade provided by overcast clouds. There was nothing that came close to spending a day on the water.

John B continued further down the main channel of the marina until Kiara came into view carrying a cooler and her backpack. She knew, of course, that they couldn't pass up the chance to go fishing the day after a major storm and had come prepared.

“Good morning, boys,” Kiara greeted.

“Whatcha got?” Pope asked, gesturing to the cooler in her hands.

“You got some juice boxes?” John B added.

“You know, just some yogurts, some carrot sticks.”

“How about my kind of juice box?” JJ inquired, reaching up to help her into the boat.

Atlas shoved JJ over with her foot. “You boys are insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah. Hey, Attie. Boys giving you trouble today?”

“Oh, always.” Atlas helped Kiara pass around the beer and they were on their way. 

John B hoped Atlas would leave behind the reminder of her past the further they sailed from the shore, he hoped she would be able to spend the day her way. She didn't need to think of how she was going to explain where she'd been to the sheriff, she didn't need to think about how to protect JJ. She could spend the whole day in the comfort and safety of knowing that all she had to do was be herself with the people who loved her and knew her best. John B would give anything to make it happen.

Halfway to the marsh, John B switched places with Pope and took a seat next to Atlas. He didn't ask her why she was up so early or why she was out clearing up his backyard, he simply allowed her to exist in the present moment surrounded by their friends. Of all the things John B prided himself in when it came to Atlas, he always saw the parts of her she worked to keep hidden and he let her hold on to them as long as she needed.

Being out on the water was the Pogues' favourite place to be; nothing compared to the freedom of spending the long summer days fishing with his friends. The scent of saltwater flooded John B's senses; he watched the ease with which Atlas leaned back on the side of the boat and shut her eyes, relaxing into her happy place as they raced along the marsh. Beers in hand, they laughed with the gang and cheered the start of an amazing summer. There was no way they'd be split up now, he was sure of it. If DCS wasn't getting on a ferry to meet with John B, Atlas wasn't getting on a ferry to visit so-called family.

“Let me show you a party trick.”

John B pulled his eyes from the water to JJ standing on the bow of the Pogue, beer poised to raise to his lips. Whatever his partner-in-crime had in mind was a bad idea.

“Hey, Pope. Can you go a little faster, please?”

“Oh, God, here we go. I'm movin'.” John B wasted no time moving from Atlas' side, eyeing her with a silent question when she refused to follow. He shrugged. “Your funeral.”

“It doesn't work. We've tried this like 6,000 times,” Pope said, speeding up.

“I got this. It's gonna work,” JJ answered confidently. He raised the bottle in the air in front of his mouth, tipping the bottom up to pour the contents in. Beer splashed his face, and Kiara's hair and covered Atlas' side but none successfully went down his throat.

“You're getting beer in my hair,” complained Kiara.

“All right, you're done,” John B said.

“Okay, dumbass. Now that I'm covered in beer, thank you for the demonstration.” Sometimes he wondered how the suspicion of the relation between the two of them could be as strong as it was.

Atlas he'd known since they were in diapers, and JJ since the third grade.

It was JJ who had sworn for eight years and counting that they had to be related, they just had to be. Who knew? Maybe they were. They sure acted like it more than any siblings John B had ever known.

He guessed there were signs if you looked hard enough ― after being best friends for so long, it would be impossible to believe he saw little things here and there. How their eyes crinkled the same when they smiled, the way they were always ready to fight their way out at the first sign of trouble, their insane devotion to each other, and they even had the same laugh. John B smiled at the thought.

But JJ's sun-kissed yellow hair and soft baby blue eyes gave him an air of sweet innocence that completely contradicted everything about his sometimes irrational personality (that he got from his dad). John B was sure future tax cheat and mild kleptomaniac were only two things on a long list of reasons people found Luke Maybank's kid unpalatable. But JJ was fiercely loyal and wildly protective, and that made up for it. (And the best surfer John B knew on this side of Kildare Island, but that he kept to himself.)

Unlike their oftentimes misguided companion, Atlas didn't have the luxury of people knowing who she really was. The sheriff had shown up one night with a screaming four-month-old who needed a home and she was gonna give it to her, but she needed to work that night and had nowhere else to take her. So the Routledges stepped in to help. It was her eyes that did them in. “Those are the eyes of mischief,” Big John once said about Atlas' slate blue eyes. “The eyes of an oncoming storm,” he'd warned. And that's exactly what she was; a hurricane waiting to happen.

Without Atlas, JJ wouldn't survive his father, and without JJ, Atlas just wouldn't survive. All they had was each other and the Pogues, and John B intended to keep it that way.

The boat crashed. John B was thrown to the floor, hitting his head against the stern with Kiara toppling over beside him. He should've known letting Pope navigate was a mistake. JJ flew over the bow into the water, and Atlas fell over the port side right behind him.

John B blinked in the beaming sunlight, stars swam across his vision. He watched for Atlas to resurface, spitting out a mouthful of saltwater. JJ came up seconds later with his beer bottle in hand.

“You okay, JJ?” John B called from the floor of the Pogue.

“I think my heels touched the back of my head,” JJ responded.

“Kie, you okay?”

“I'm all right. Atlas?”

She gave a thumbs up, and John B sighed with relief. His friends were okay, he was okay. Wet curls stuck to her forehead, dripping with water. Her voice filled the air next, “All good here.”

“Pope, what did you do?”

“Sandbar. The channel changed.”

JJ pulled himself back into the boat and reached down to help Atlas in. “No shit. You almost killed Siren.”

Sometimes John B remembered exactly why JJ insisted they were related. “At least let me take all you fine boys with me.” Pope didn't respond. “Pope? Dude, what the hell are you lookin' at?”

“Guys. . . I think there's a boat down there.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no, guys. I'm serious. There's like a boat down there. For real.”

“Holy shit, he's right. Let's go.”

Before Kiara could say anything against it, Atlas was back in the water and John B was following behind her with JJ after him. If Pope was right, they had to investigate, didn't they? It was the adventure he'd been waiting for. Who knew what they'd find at the bottom of that wreck, the possibilities were endless. Briefly, he considered what the discovery might feel like and glanced over as Atlas' storm-blue eyes found his brown ones. The two shared a silent conversation; Atlas asked if he was okay, and John B replied that he was.

“Guys, wait up!” Pope shouted to the four bodies in the water, all eager to swim down to the sunken boat. He quickly removed his shirt.

“Pope, get your ass in here!” JJ demanded.

“Come on,” John B spurred.

Once they were all in, they proceeded to swim to the bottom. On its nose at the bottom of the marsh floor, was the last boat any of the Pogues expected to see. When Atlas gave the signal to return to the surface, the five of them rushed back up, breaking through the water with baffled smiles.

“You guys saw that, right?” JJ asked first.

“Yeah, I did,” Kiara confirmed.

“Is that what I think it is? There's no way. . .” Atlas shook her head in disbelief. Why would that be out in the marsh? Let alone sunken in the marsh?

“That's a Grady-White,” JJ continued. “A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy. That's a primo rig.”

John B hauled himself onto the side of the HMS Pogue, his gaze met Atlas' big and bright, leaning down to help her out of the water. His right hand trembled with excitement, settling against her lower back. “Yeah, yeah. That's the boat I saw when I surfed the surge. Maybe it hit the jetty or something.”

Kiara glared at her friends. “You surfed the surge?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn't stop him?”

Atlas hummed, shrugging her shoulders. “Eh, I've done worse. I think you're missing the point here, Kie.”

“Stop him? She went with him,” Pope interjected, throwing a sidelong glance and a weak smile at the now glaring girl.

JJ gave the sneering girl and their best friend high fives ― his pride in them shining in the bright blue of his eyes. “That's my boy. Way to be, sis. Pogue style, man.”

“Speaking of Pogue style,” Atlas grinned, “pay up, Booker. You totally wiped out.”

Kiara's glare grew into a full-on scowl. “What the heck? Are you two stupid?”

“Wait, wait. Do we know whose boat that is?” Pope asked, pulling the attention from Atlas and John B's failure to operate with a stroke of common sense between them.

“No, but we're about to find out. Atlas, you coming?” John B opened the small storage door at the corner and pulled the anchor from its holding compartment.

“Dude, it's too deep,” JJ declared, bending over the front of the boat to get a better look at where the Grady-White lay in the water. He shoved the brunet's shoulder. “And quit flirting with my freakin' sister.”

“Oh, for the weak and feeble, JJ. Last chance, Attie?”

Atlas' eyes shone brightly in the summer sun, and stormy blue irises full of excitement danced above the apples of her cheeks as she smiled. “Hell yeah, bro. Where you go, I go.”

JJ shook his head. “Well, I'm not resuscitating you and I'm just making that clear upfront. Or you.”

“That's fine,” John B laughed, picking up the anchor.

“John B?” Kiara's voice was soft, it lost the reprimanding edge it had when she learned he surfed the surge and Atlas went too. JJ and Atlas suspected she had a crush on their fearless leader, though neither of them confronted her about it.

“What?”

She didn't say; John B stared at her curiously, and Kiara looked away.

“Diver down, fool,” Pope proclaimed.

John B saluted his crew and grabbed Atlas' hand, locking their fingers together; she nodded, grinning. “Diver down,” he said.

“Diver down,” she confirmed.

“Yeah, they are.” A mischievous smirk crossed JJ's features as he moved forward pushing John B from the boat. With her hand tucked in his, John B dragged Atlas down behind him, and he swore he saw the mental note she made reminding herself to kill the young blond as they hit the water. JJ's cackle was lost to the roaring of the marshland below.

It was something they had done a thousand times before, diving together that way. By now it came as naturally as breathing; the way Atlas curled herself around him and the anchor, letting the weight of it pull them down into the icy depths until they had to let go. They swam toward the sunken Grady-White, and John B entered first, beckoning for Atlas to follow.

How could they not be in awe of the rig before them, and the fact that it somehow made its way to the marsh? There was nothing in the open that indicated who it belonged to and he was about to call it a lost cause when something just past Atlas' shoulder caught his eye.

They broke through the water and greedily pulled air into their starving lungs. Was it stupid to dive without the proper gear? Yes. Would they do it again in a heartbeat? Also, yes.

“Any dead bodies?” Pope asked excitedly. John B recalled the time he told a random Touron about his dream to be a coroner.

“Looting potential?” JJ wondered.

“No, no,” John B coughed. “I found this motel key.”

“A key. . .”

“Yes, a key, Pope.”

“Great! We salvaged a motel key,” JJ bit back, pulling the anchor up as John B and Atlas returned to the boat. “I don't like the look on your face, A.”

Atlas stared out at the site where the Grady-White went down. “This is just my face, J.”

“Yeah, the face of an exceptionally bad plan.”

“Who said anything about a plan?”

“I know you. You always have a plan, it's kinda freaky.”

“Guys, we should report the wreck to the coast guard,” Kiara said. “Maybe we'll get a finder's fee.”

“Yeah, and not work all summer,” JJ said mockingly. “Thanks, Agatha, ya batch.”

“JJ's right, Kie. Which brings us to our next order of business ― John B, let's find out who that motel key belongs to.”

“And how do we do that?”

“Some good ol' fashioned trespassing!”

“Atlas! No, we're going to report it to the coast guard. John B?”

Back in town, John B led the way to make their report to the coast guard per Kiara's request. Turning the key into the authorities was the right thing to do, though he'd rather investigate what happened himself ― he had no idea where to even begin. John B and JJ stepped around frantic islanders seeking help with their lost belongings and missing pets, pushing their way to the desk to speak to the man in charge.

“Excuse me! Excuse me,” John B called over the noise.

“Hey, man, we― we found a boat,” JJ tried.

“You're gonna wanna hear this.”

“Hey!” The man at the counter raised his hand, silencing John B. “Calm down.”

The group headed back outside, and Atlas lifted her hand to John B's shoulder. He knew the look on her face well, too well ― he wished she wouldn't.

“So, is now too soon to say I told you so? Because I told you so.”

“Well, that went well,” Pope sighed. 

“So, what's the plan?” JJ asked, knowing Atlas and John B had something in mind.

John B held the key up between them. They tried it Kiara's way, now they would try it his and Atlas' way. Getting into trouble was their specialty. “I think I know how we're gonna find the guy who owns that boat.”

Pope objected, “No, no. We don't know whose room that is. It could be anyone.”

JJ swiped the key from John B's hand and tossed it over Pope's head to Kiara. “I'm in. And it was Attie's idea in the first place, so. . .”

“Come on,” Kiara said, on board with the idea. “We'll be lookout.”

“Finder's fee. Just sayin'.” John B left after his friends, turning to try and convince Pope to follow. “And, hey, at least you'll only be an accomplice. Come on, Bubba.”

They reconvened on the HMS Pogue and John B headed for the motel. He didn't bring up the fact that Atlas hadn't checked in with the sheriff all day, knowing even the slightest possibility that she could still be sent away was a sore spot for her and JJ. While Hurricane Agatha did enough damage to keep the ferry down for a few days at least, there was still a chance the original plan for the summer could be put into motion anyway. Who's to say what would happen once the mainland had full power back up to the whole of Kildare Island?

JJ whistled as the motel came into view, “I thought the Château looked bad.”

“This place is a shitshow,” John B agreed.

“Motel or meth lab?” asked Kiara.

“You be the judge,” said Pope.

John B pulled the HMS Pogue around the bank and stared up at the motel. “Doesn't look like the type of place somebody with a Grady-White would stay.”

“No, it looks like the type of place someone with a Grady-White would get killed,” Pope corrected.

“Pope, you, my friend, need to chill out.” Atlas patted him on the shoulder, he swatted her hand away.

“All right, here we go. This is your captain speaking. HMS Pogue comin' in for landing.”

“JJ, who made you captain again?”

JJ tied the boat to the mooring and looked up with a cheeky grin, blond hair sitting wildly on his head. “Uh, Pentagon?”

“You're an idiot.”

“Yup.”

“We good?” John B asked stepping off of the boat.

“Yeah, we good.”

“All right. Here goes nothin'.”

From the helm, Pope flagged down the older boy and pointed over his shoulder at JJ. “Don't let him do anything stupid.”

“Oh, we will,” JJ assured.

John B laughed. “I'm not makin' promises.”

Kiara handed John B the room key. “Um, be careful. I mean it.”

He chuckled. “Yeah.” To Atlas, he said, “Ten bucks we get caught?”

“Make it twenty,” she smiled.

“Yep.” He headed for the motel, patting JJ on the shoulder as he passed. “Let's go. Why are all these mattresses out here?”

JJ got up to follow after his best friend, nodding to Atlas on his way. “After a hurricane, they have to ditch 'em 'cause they're all mouldy.” He grabbed John B's shoulders as they searched for the room number that matched the one on the key, he pulled the boy to him and mocked the conversation that passed between him and Kiara before they left. He squished John B's cheeks between his fingers. “Just be so careful, John B.”

He shoved the boy off, “God, you're so weird.”

“Dude, what the heck was that about?”

“I don't know. Maybe she wants us to be careful?”

“Since she heard you're being threatened with exile, she's just been, like, ‘Oh! Be so careful, John B,’” he said, rubbing his shoulders.

“Get off.”

“‘Just give me that John D already.’ Like, when are you gonna swoop on that, man?”

John B scowled. “Bro, you know the rule.” So do I. Suddenly all the times he'd gotten a little too close with Atlas flashed in his mind. “No, Pogue-on-Pogue macking. Besides, you're the one who's always hitting on her.”

“Dude, of course, I'm hitting on her. She's a super-hot, rich, hippie chick slumming with us. Why? I can't figure it out either, but who cares, bro? I know that door's locked because I've tried it. Have you?”

“You need help. Not like a little bit of help, like a lot of help. 'Cause it's like every girl who just has a heartbeat you're like, ‘Uhh!’” John B said. 

“What? It's not a big deal. And, tell you what though, bet she'd get you over your crush on Atlas,” JJ countered.

John B stopped in front of the room door. He didn't deny JJ's claims, he couldn't, but he also didn't think he knew about it. And, as he said, there were rules. He blinked a few times, stunned by JJ's audacity to suggest that John B would cross that line with either of the girls. They were his best friends and regardless of his feelings ― if he could even call them that ― he'd never risk jeopardizing the Pogues in that way.

He playfully shoved JJ back from the door. “Dude, I don't have a crush on Atlas.”

JJ laughed dryly. “Bro, you've had a crush on my sister since we were nine.”

“This is it,” John B said, ignoring the turn their conversation had taken. He didn't want to talk about it, certainly not with JJ.

JJ knocked rhythmically on the door, “Housekeeping?” No answer. He knocked on the window for good measure, but still, no one answered.

“Should we try it?”

“Yeah. No persona aquí. No power. No security cameras. No one's gonna know.”

The key fit the lock perfectly and the door opened without a hitch, revealing a small bedroom. The room consisted of two single beds, one with a black bag sitting on the end. It wasn't exactly what John B expected to see, but it would do.

“Check the bag,” he instructed, “see if there's a name on there somewhere.”

The boys spent their time rifling through the owner's belongings, nothing immediately stuck out as an indication of who owned the Grady-White. But John B knew coming there was a good idea; why else would he and Atlas have thought of the same thing without even speaking to each other first? There had to be something in the room that would tell them who owned the boat. The bag was a bust, there was nothing there.

JJ walked to the bedside table and checked the papers left there. “Yo, dude, come here. Maybe this is where they were fishing.”

“Let me see.” John B leaned over the papers.

“Right there.” JJ pointed to a note left behind on a map.

“No, that's off of the continental shelf. That's Big Swell. Nobody fishes there.”

“Okay.”

He picked up the piece of paper tucked under the phone and turned around scanning the room. Something about the numbers written on it told him it was important but he couldn't figure out why.

“Ooh,” JJ sang from the bathroom.

“Find anything?”

“Yeah. A really awesome Dopp kit you won't let me steal.”

“Yeah, 'cause we're not stealing shit. Attie would kill me if I let you do that. . .again.”

“Eh, what Attie don't know won't hurt her.”

“You've got a serious problem, dude.” John B fiddled with the cabinet underneath the coffee pot and pulled the doors open. Inside he found a safe and held up the paper he took from beside the telephone. The safe beeped as he punched the numbers in and the lights turned green, he turned the knob next to the keypad and the door opened.

“Holy shit.” Stacks of money lined the interior, a gun sat on top of them with an orange envelope on top of that. He retrieved one of the stacks and his breath caught at the weight of the thick bundle in the palm of his hand. “Uh, JJ. . . You're gonna wanna see this.”

Atlas knew it wouldn't end well.

JJ and John B were in the room where the cops were heading, and she, Kiara, and Pope needed to find some way to signal them. . .there was only one way it ended in her mind, and it was with the two people she loved most in the world getting arrested. At least I'll be twenty bucks richer. . . She listened out for the cops making their way up the stairs to the second floor and knew it was only a matter of time until they reached the room. She took a moment to calm down and tried to think.

What would JJ and John B do? Atlas thought back to when they were kids; when she and JJ would sneak out of their respective homes and into the Château without Big John knowing (not that he cared when he did). What was it they used to do to signal their arrival to each other?

“Okay, okay. Do something, do something,” Kiara cried frantically. 

Pope picked up a rock from the ground and moved back to the edge of the property. “Okay, stand back.” He threw it toward the building, but it missed the window entirely, hitting the wall instead.

“Didn't you ever play baseball?”

“I was on the math team!”

Everything came rushing back to Atlas in a haze of feelings she didn't have time to process. Her eyes lit up and she pushed Pope and Kiara out of the way, taking the rock from her friend's hand. “I got this,” she said confidently. 

“I sure fucking hope so. Pope was on the math team,” Kiara chided.

“Shh, quiet. Give me some room.” God, I hope you remember this. . . Atlas drew her arm back and hurled the rock, it hit the window as she intended and she felt a small surge of pride. She repeated the action a couple more times until she was sure the boys had noticed, and when John B appeared at the window, her smile widened.

Pope waved his arms toward the front of the motel where the cops had made their way to the room door and whisper-shouted, “Cops! Cops!” but the boy couldn't hear him through the closed window.

“Shut. Up. Pope. Will you―” she paused, gesturing for him to calm down. When he stepped back, she returned her attention to the building, JJ having taken John B's place in the room window. All right, J, don't leave me hanging now. Atlas took a breath, then closed her eyes. In the next moment, she pictured her 10-year-old self sneaking onto the property behind his father's house. She pressed her lips together and whistled, the sound that emerged was a near-perfect replica of the Grey Plover. She waited 10 seconds and then repeated the action, a warning to the boys that they needed to get out of there.

Kiara and Pope watched in awe as Atlas repeated her signal at the now-open window and JJ backed away with a nod. The two looked at their friend in confusion, both having questions they wanted to ask but knew had to wait until later. They raced back to the HMS Pogue with Atlas in tow, leaving the boys behind to make their escape.

“Should we peel?” Kiara asked, sitting behind the wheel.

“You never leave a Pogue behind,” said Pope and Atlas.

“No, seriously, should we peel?”

“Maybe.”

“Guys, hold on. Just trust me.” Atlas scanned the side of the motel for signs of her friends and just when she was about to lose hope, they climbed from the window and hugged close to the wall. It wasn't that bad, right? They'd make it out of there without getting caught, they always did. “Uh, guys. . .”

JJ waved them off as he and John B held tight on either side of the window, neither one made a sound. It wasn't the worst idea they'd ever had and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Atlas' heart was in her throat watching them hang from the building to avoid being seen by the two cops inside the room, and she kicked herself for not going up there with them.

She watched JJ shift awkwardly against the wall and then something black fell from his hand, clattering noisily to the ground below. She winced. Of course, he'd taken something from inside. Why wouldn't he? “What the hell, JJ?” she whispered. “Shit.”

A beat, a breath. A tense moment passed before the officers made their way down the stairs and out to their vehicle, leaving the two boys to crawl safely back through the window.

When they returned, Atlas didn't know whether to hug her friend or kill him. She waited for him to gather whatever he dropped from the roof and join them at the boat to make her decision. She chose both, knowing that she wouldn't change or trade JJ for anything.

“You idiot,” she said, shoving him back. “What the hell?”

“Well, that was fun. Could have warned us a little sooner,” he countered.

“We would've, except Pope was on the math team,” Kiara chided as Pope drove away from the motel.

John B laughed, “You were on the math team?”

“Never mind that. The better question is, how the hell did Attie know to do that?”

She ducked her head, feeling John B's eyes on her, a light blush dusting her cheeks. The last time they used that signal was just before his dad went missing, the last time things at home were too much.

JJ slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. “That, my friend, is a Maybank sibling secret.”

Pope accepted the answer for now. “The cops took everything like it was a crime scene. Did you guys find anything?”

“Did we did anything? No, I don't think so.” JJ let Atlas go and sat forward, he pulled a stack of money and a handgun from his pockets and held them up. “Oh, yeah, we did.”

“What the hell?”

“Dude, what?”

While Kiara and Pope set in grilling JJ on how he came to possess the cash and gun, Atlas marched across the boat to stand in front of John B. The grey-blue of her eyes darkened, and she stared down at him angrily, fire stirring in her gut. “Are you kidding me? What happened to not letting him steal anything?”

“What? Why are you mad at me?” he defended. She scoffed.

“John B.”

“Atlas.”

“J, you're not fucking keeping that.”

“Sure thing, Mom,” he sneered.

As soon as John B moored the HMS Pogue at the end of his dock, Atlas was off like a shot toward the Château without a word spoken to the others. She was speechless, he let her go.

He knew her anger with JJ would only grow as time passed and the knowledge of what they found only incriminated them further. Even he wasn't surprised that JJ involved them in such a damning way, but Atlas was and he knew she hated herself for believing otherwise. They understood who he was since they were 10 years old and he first stole something from Heyward's Seafood, which she went back to pay for. Like it or not, John B and Atlas would always bail JJ out come hell or high water. Never leave a Pogue behind, it wasn't just a rule, it was a way of life.

He wondered what the sheriff would do if she knew, the thought made him want to pull his hair out. But it was the thought that followed. . .the thought of JJ's father finding out that tied John B's stomach in knots. Atlas couldn't get in more trouble, not after the last time, the sheriff wouldn't allow it. Neither could JJ.

Kiara and John B entered the screened-off porch behind her, neither said a word, simply letting the girl stew in her feelings of doom. They knew it wouldn't do any good to try and calm her down anyway, it was something the two friends needed to work through on their own. So, when JJ joined a second later and they found themselves wrestling on the floor, John B let that happen too.

Then Atlas had JJ in a headlock on the floor, his arms pinned at his sides between her legs. He puts up a fight, but she was strong enough to hold him in place for the time being. John B smiled, he taught her that move.

“Why are you so stupid, JJ? What the fuck do you need a gun for?” Sure she was strong, but JJ was bigger and knew how to throw his weight around. He easily broke loose of her hold and the tables turned.

John B stared slightly amused as JJ pinned Atlas under his hips, sitting on her waist and holding her arms firm against her belly. Their scuffle left his hair unkempt on top of his head, his blue eyes were wild with the pain of needing her to understand him.

“Would you just listen to me for one second?” he pleaded, voice small and desperate. John B's heart hurt then.

Atlas stilled beneath him. It had been a long time since he looked at her like that, John B guessed she forgot that he was just a kid ― they were all just kids. The fight in her vanished, she relented and nodded.

“I just. . .” he sighed, whispering, “I just want to protect you. Protect us.”

“Okay,” she said.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, J.”

It was over. No one spoke on it again. John B and Kiara helped their friends up from the floor and the moment was forgotten.

Pope rushed through the screen door in a whirlwind of panic and brought everyone back to the main problem at hand: the location of Scooter Grubbs' Grady-White and what to do with the information they now held in the palm of their hands.

“Okay. So, um. . .we didn't see anything. We don't know anything. We need to have total and complete amnesia,” Pope said in a hurry, taking a seat between Atlas and Kiara on the bench.

“Actually, Pope's right for once,” JJ agreed. “See, I agree with you sometimes. Deny, deny, deny.”

Kiara shook her head, “Guys, we can't keep that money.”

“Okay. Not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara.”

“We have to pass that off to Lana Grubbs. Otherwise, it's bad karma.”

“Bad karma to be implicated in a felony, too,” Pope said, eyeing JJ. “We gotta go dark.”

“If that means we get to keep the money, then I agree.”

John B pushed himself off of the door frame and moves across the porch. “I don't agree.”

JJ looked to Atlas, then back at their best friend. “What? Why?”

“Just think about it. This is Scooter Grubbs we're talking about, right? Same dude that's buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas. We're talking about a dirtbag marina rat who's never had more than 40 bucks in his pocket and all of a sudden, he's got a Grady-White? Just sayin'.”

Atlas snorted. “Hey, Book? Take a breath. Come on, we'll talk about it some more while we fish.”

Thank God for Atlas. She never tried to change him. He wasn't entirely sure if she knew what he was getting at, but at least she always heard him out. And that way, their summer wouldn't be boring.

John B led the group to the dock, mulling over what they knew so far. He had a point, when had any of them ever seen Scooter Grubbs work a day in his life? Hell, he even mooched a few dollars off of Atlas once or twice without shame and begged her and John B not to tell the sheriff. So the question really was how had he come to own that Grady-White?

John B sat the tackle box down on the dock and perched himself on the railing. “All right, so think about it, Pope. How does a marina rat get a Grady-White?”

Pope inhaled deep. “Prostitution.”

“Square groupers, bro,” John B corrected. “Okay, flying under the radar, no aerial surveillance. They don't do that stuff during a hurricane. What does that mean? Atlas? JJ?”

“They were straight smugglin',” the pair finished.

“Smugglin'. And I guarantee there's a serious amount of contraband in that wreck.”

“Hell, yeah.”

“Don't get excited, J.”

Pope thought for a moment and John B wasn't sure if he was in or out. “For the record, if that is a smuggling ship with the illegal contraband on the inside of it. . .it probably belongs to someone else.”

“Minor details,” Kiara said.

“They could come looking for it. Taking it would be catastrophically stupid.”

“Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time.” JJ reached for the stack of money in Pope's hand and fanned it out in front of his face. “All we need to do right now is just figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck. Until then, we just lay low. Just act normal.”

Atlas laughed, John B loved the sound. “JJ, you are the worst at laying low.”

“Shut up, Attie.”

“Right. And how exactly do we do that?” Pope asked.

“Kegger?” Kiara suggested and everyone agreed.

Later that evening, John B could feel that Atlas was in much better spirits. There was still some time before they needed to be at the boneyard, so they lounged around her place before getting ready.

A few days came and went since she'd last seen the lavender and peach-coloured walls of her bedroom, having spent that time getting into mischief with her friends. Mischief John B wondered if her foster mom had heard of yet. He decided that snooping around the sheriff's case could wait till later in favour of watching Atlas choose her outfit for the party. She always said the first kegger of the summer deserved a kick-ass appearance. Act normal, JJ said.

“We're throwing a kegger, Attie. No one is going to care what you're wearing.”

“I take offence to that, Booker.”

“No, I-I just meant― I wasn't saying―”

“Relax, John B. I'm kidding.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” John B asked, noticing Atlas staring at the fading bruise across her ribs.

He hadn't been there when that fight with Luke broke out or when the cops showed up. But when JJ called and told him to be on standby in case Atlas needed a place to go that night, he knew it had been a bad one. He first saw the red patch like a blossoming flower on her tawny skin as he helped her change into one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts for the night. It looked considerably better now than it had then.

Atlas shook her head, pulling her wet waves from beneath the straps of her bikini top then layering it with a light blue daisy halter top and an old button-down she stole from John B. “Nah, it's fine.”

He smiled weakly, tugging a strand of hair and from behind his back produced a pink bandana that matched the blue one secured around his neck. He was silent, stepping behind her, and careful not to catch her hair in the ties as he fixed the pink fabric around her neck. “Best friends thing?” he said softly.

“Best friends thing,” she replied, lightly punching his shoulder. “Come on, we should go or JJ's gonna throw a fit.”

They discovered the sheriff in the kitchen on her way back out to town, and John B knew Atlas had to tell her something that would satisfy her motherly inquiry into their plans for the evening. After all, Atlas was the reason he and JJ weren't rotting in a jail cell.

Atlas headed to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water; she tossed one to John B, leaned against the counter and took a drink of her own. “Hey, Sheriff.”

“Attie, didn't think I'd see you today,” Sheriff Peterkin said, looking up at the young girl. “John B, you stayin' outta trouble?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he answered politely.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I figured you were already asleep when we got to John B's last night,” she hummed. “How's clean-up from the storm going?”

“You know how it is. Whole town in an uproar over missin' things.” The sheriff took in the girl's outfit and stepped around the table to head out the door. The two friends knew what was coming before she even opened her mouth to speak the words. “I expect you in by curfew tonight. Some things goin' on I can't talk about, but you take care of yourself. And stay outta trouble, ya hear?”

Atlas nodded, smiling. “Yes, ma'am. I hear.”

“Goes double for you, John B.”

If anything went wrong at the party and the sheriff's department heard about it, John B knew Atlas would be in deep shit. He only hoped the rest of the Pogues were on the same page about the meaning of laying low. When they were sure Sheriff Peterkin was long gone, Atlas grabbed her bag and they left out the back door.

A clear sky and warm summer sun greeted them on their way to the boneyard, it was the perfect day for a kegger. And a kegger was the perfect cover for the Pogues until they could iron out the final details of their plan to loot the sunken Grady-White. John B wasn't sure what he was most excited about: the kegger or treasure hunting or the chance to do both with his best friends. He and Atlas met up with JJ, Pope, and Kiara with the keg, all smiles and ready to get the evening started.

“What took you so long?” JJ asked impatiently, accusing.

“Sheriff stopped to give us one of her ‘be careful after dark, don't miss curfew’ mom speeches,” Atlas said, taking the bag of red Solo cups from Pope. “She said there's freaky shit going on that she can't talk about yet.”

“Think she suspects we know anything?” JJ pressed. He and John B sat the keg down and Kiara tossed them the tap. 

Atlas shook her head, “Nah, she would've pinned us down right there if she did. We're good. Let's get the party started boys!”

The boys filled cups with beer from the keg, occasionally stopping to spray Pope or Kiara when they weren't looking. Soon, the boneyard was teeming with teenagers from all across the island looking to have a good time. They crowded around the keg as cups were filled and handed out, no one really knowing or caring what was in them, and the party was in full swing. Another cup was filled and passed along to Atlas who accepted it without hesitation, mingling her way through the masses.

John B: All right, you can't understand the Outer Banks without understanding the boneyard. It's kinda like a three-layer burrito. There's us and our friends, the working-class derelicts from the Cut. Then, there are the Kooks, the rich second-homers. They're mostly from poncey-ass boarding schools, just rich trustafarian posers. Our natural enemies. And then, there are the Tourons. Totally clueless, here for a week on vacation with their families. Chum for the sharks.

The boys continued to dole out drinks as amps were set up across the beach out of truck beds, and the flow of the evening picked up with the energy of a proper keg party. John B knew they pulled it off without a hitch, it didn't get more normal than a party run by the Pogues on the Cut.

“Hey, come dance with me,” JJ said, rushing by him toward Atlas with a fresh cup of booze in his hand. Carefree, warm like the sun ― that was how JJ Maybank should always be. His blond hair blew freely in the breeze coming off of the ocean, his eyes captured the hue of the sky and shone brightly in the evening light.

“You're nuts, JJ,” she laughed, John B swore he could get drunk off the sound. She took JJ's outstretched hand and let him lead her toward the middle of the crowd. John B wished that were him. It'd been too long since they were able to let loose like that and he knew they need it.

“Sheriff can't send you away now,” JJ said, twirling Atlas around him. He didn't say it was because they had to loot the Grady-White and he refused to do it without her, she knew. They all did.

Atlas hummed. She sipped at the cup in her hand, thinking. “I don't think she will. Not now, anyway. I think Scooter Grubbs' body washing up on shore has her too occupied to notice me, right now.” John B hoped she was right about that.

JJ grinned. He brought Atlas in close and kissed the top of her head. To see the two of them interact, sometimes he forgot Atlas was the older one. Maybe JJ's theory was correct. They danced together until the song changed to something slower and JJ handed Atlas off to John B, who sat on a downed tree branch a few feet from them, chuckling at her muttered: “gee, thanks.”

He met her eyes. “What?”

“I can't stand the sight of someone I consider my little brother chatting up a random Touron he's gonna attempt sleeping with later,” she said, scrunching up her nose. “I think I'm gonna go find Kie.”

But neither had to move a muscle to find their friend. At the outer edge of the crowd nearest the water stood Kiara unhappy, having abandoned the boy she was talking to in favour of scowling disapproval at the couple by the red buoy further down the beach. The last person either girl expected to see, Kiara least of all, climbed to the top of the beached tower and sat on the edge of it. Below it, her boyfriend tried desperately to talk her down, but his methods were unsuccessful.

“What is she doing here?” Kiara demanded.

John B felt Atlas tense beside him.

“Kie. . .” she tried, but she didn't have the answer her friend wanted.

John B: That's Sarah Cameron. Kook princess. Kiara's best friend in the ninth grade, worst enemy in the tenth grade. I work on her dad's boat, so, you know, I've seen her around. Then that's Topper, her not-so-pleasant boyfriend. Topper actually thinks Pogues were bred to mow lawns.

Atlas' hand reaches up and wrapped around John B's wrist, he let her pull him down next to her. Throwing her arms over the downed tree in front of them, she looked at him wistfully. He didn't mind that she used every chance she got to tease him endlessly. “Hey, lover boy,” she purred in his ear. She held a joint she stole from JJ between her fingers, taking a slow drag from it and holding her breath.

John B stared at her, eyebrows raised. He knew what was coming, she said it all the time.

“You're drooling. And desperation looks ugly on you.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He knew she was right.

“Wishful thinking, bro. Our two worlds do not mix. And,” she said, pointing a finger in his chest, “Kie would hate you.”

He hummed. “I know, I know.”

“What's your fascination with that, anyway?”

“I don't know. There's just something about her.”

“Well, can you maybe try to find your ‘something’ with someone who doesn't think we're garbage?”

John B rolled his eyes, shoving Atlas' shoulder. They changed the subject.

“Pretty successful kegger, if I do say so myself,” he said.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Booker,” she mused.

He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and handed her a $20 bill, the ratty bifold was emptier than it had been two days ago. He had to stop betting his hard-earned money on the stupid things they did around the island. “For surfing the surge,” he said.

“Nah, keep it. You didn't get caught today, remember?”

“Thanks to you.”

“Eh, I've done worse,”

The sun had set and the moon took its place, illuminating the boneyard in a silver glow. John B decided it was probably the best kegger they'd thrown yet; Atlas agreed ― minus the addition of Sarah Cameron. It had been the perfect way to keep their heads down and the sheriff off of their backs. Thanks to Atlas, there was no reason the rest of their plan shouldn't go on without any trouble.

They crossed the beach in search of their friends, a few hours passed since they last saw Kiara or Pope, or even JJ for that matter. The mood simmered down to that of the tapering of a successful party, with the attendees all doing their own thing as the evening wound down. It was late, and a couple of people began shuffling their way home but not before thanking the two Pogues in some way for throwing the rager.

JJ found them in the dispersing crowd. He ran up with two more cups full of booze, Atlas was sure there was something other than just beer mixed in as he passed one to John B. “John B, Atlas. There they are,” he said excitedly. “My two favourite people!”

“Yo, what's up? What are you doing?” John B reached a hand out to steady his inebriated best friend, a smile on his face.

“I got this one for you. You want this one?” JJ continued, looking down into the second cup.

“For me? Yeah, I'll take a sip.” The blunt Atlas smoked during her talk with John B had worked its way through her system and he could tell she was loose, relaxed. JJ could ask her to follow him full speed into the ocean and she'd do it without a second thought. But as she wrapped her fingers around the drink in his hands, he pulled it back to him and she frowned.

Sarah's voice sounded just behind his right shoulder, “Hi.”

JJ smirked wickedly; the brunet frowned. “Oh, wait. Hey, hey. Hey, Sarah!” he called out and waited for Sarah and Topper to stop beside them. John B wished he wouldn't. “Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?”

“No, thanks,” she turned him down. John B's frown matched Atlas', they knew where the interaction was going before JJ opened his mouth to speak again. And Atlas really hated Sarah.

“Come on. Is it not fancy enough for you?” he prodded.

“No, we were just leaving.”

“Hey, you know what? I'll take it. I'll― Thank you, man. I appreciate it,” Topper said. He reached by Sarah for the cup, and JJ pulled it away.

JJ sneered. “All right, you know what? That's a nice suggestion there, Topper, but I didn't ask you. Now, if you said pretty please, maybe―but you didn't.”

“Oh, pretty please. Pretty please?”

“Yeah, so. Sarah. I promise, you can have it.”

“She doesn't want it, you―” Topper slapped the bottom of the cup, spilling the contents down the front of JJ's shirt. They knew where things were going before they even began.

In the blink of an eye, JJ rushed forward to grab Topper's shirt, only to be pushed back by John B. “No, no, no, no, no.”

“You're so funny, man,” JJ yelled.

Atlas and Pope flanked their leader. The stench of alcohol burned his nose and he wondered what his mischievous best friend had mixed in that cup. They couldn't afford a fight tonight, more than that, they couldn't afford a fight with the Kooks. John B knew JJ better than anyone, except maybe Atlas. He knew when provoked he became unhinged in the blink of an eye. Calming him down before things got out of hand was their main priority.

“Hey,” John B tried.

“Let it go, J. Just let it go.” Atlas used the sleeve of her button-down to wipe the liquid from his face, his blue eyes were startlingly feral as he looked between her and John B. They recognized that look, knowing it was too late.

Topper made it worse. “Dirty Pogues!” he yelled across the gap separating them. He eyed Atlas and John B's skin itched with anger. “And you? Just can't stay away, can you? The sheriff can try all she wants but you will always be nothing but your daddy's damaged goods!”

John B's heart broke when Atlas didn't react. She stood stunned in the middle of the small group that gathered around them, all eyes glued to her. Everyone knew, everyone heard the story of the little girl saved by Sheriff Peterkin. But they didn't know it all, not even John B knew. No matter how many times he asked about it, if she knew, she refused to tell him.

Without thinking, John B laid a gentle hand in the crook of her arm, pushed her behind him toward JJ, and shoved Topper in the chest. Call him and JJ and the rest of the Pogues whatever he wanted, but Atlas? He barely registered the sound of Sarah's shrill voice as she pleaded for him to leave it alone. He couldn't, he wouldn't. Not ever.

But then Topper reared back and hit him square in the face.

“Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, all right?” Topper shouted loud enough for everyone to hear. He kicked the boy in the water, and the crowd chanted for a fight. John B stood and tackled Topper to the ground.

“John B, let it go, man,” Pope called to him.

“Stop, you guys!” Kiara screamed too.

John B would do anything for Atlas and JJ.

Time slowed to a crawl. In the next moment, Topper lifted John B over his shoulder and threw him in the tide; when he didn't stand, the taller boy grabbed at his shoulders and held his face down in the water.

“JJ, do something. He's gonna fuckin' drown him!” A voice over the roaring waves called out. Atlas. But what could they do? Her voice sounded bitter, cold. He wanted to tell them not to get involved, to let it go. But he couldn't.

JJ moved like a shadow. “Yeah, you know what that is. Your move, broski,” his voice dripped with malice and spite, the same fire running through his veins that John B swore he saw in Atlas' eyes.

“JJ! Put the gun down,” Sarah said, stepping toward him.

“Did you say somethin', Princess?”

“We're good. We're good. All right, come on, man.” John B cherished the sound of a Kook begging for his life. Especially when that Kook did nothing but make their lives a living hell.

“Put the gun down! Kie, can you check your psycho friend, please?” Sarah turned to Kiara and Pope. They did nothing.

Atlas marched up to the girl and sized her up easily. Sarah stepped back. “What the hell did you just say?”

“You should keep your psycho brother on a leash!”

“Unless you want things to get real bad, real fast, I suggest you check your tone.”

“Okay, everyone, listen up!” JJ let go of Topper and turned to address the mass of teens watching the commotion from the beach.

People often said the craziest part of JJ and Atlas being as close as they were was how much they mirrored each other. The term “twins” had never suited two people more than the way it did them. And when people discovered they weren't even siblings, that was when the real fear set in. Looking at the two teenagers now, anyone could see why.

Back to back, they stood, JJ's left hand clasped Atlas' right one. They positioned themselves between Topper and John B and the rest of the group. The friends moved as a whole unit, thinking as one mind. JJ continued addressing the crowd.

“Get the hell off our side of the island.” He raised his right hand in the air and fired the gun twice, and everyone scattered. The party ended. He released Atlas' hand and she ran to the water's edge; they'd figure the rest out later.

Behind them, John B heard JJ speak his final sentence to Topper Thornton, “Don't ever speak to my sister again. Got that?”

He raised glassy, unseeing eyes to Atlas' pained expression and let the sway of the waves carry him back.

John B: There's something about my father I haven't mentioned. The week before he went missing, he says to me, “Bird, I think I found something. Your Uncle T's gonna come stay for a while. I might have to vanish for a bit.” So, he talks about vanishing, and he vanishes. Everyone says he was lost at sea, but. . .he's still out there. I know it.

John B woke startled with no memory of how he got home.

Footsteps down the hallway alerted him to another presence in the Château, but he had no idea who. His breathing quickened, and he remained unmoving. Sheriff Peterkin rounded the corner into his room, she stood above him and for a split second, he wondered if he was hallucinating.

“Get decent, sweetie,” she said. “We need to talk.”

She left him to change, he pulled on clean board shorts and made his way to the front room. Atlas sat on the couch looking like she'd been caught with her hands in the cookie jar; then John B remembered how he got home. He sent her a crooked smile that she returned with a bashful one of her own. I don't deserve you, Attie.

“Sorry to break in like this, but DCS called. They wanted me to check on you. See how you're doin'. So, how are you, besides the―” the sheriff said. Her unfinished question hung in the air, she gestures to her face. John B's eye bruised up in the night while he slept despite Atlas' attempts to take care of it.

He shrugged. “Oh, no, I'm― I'm great. Yeah, fantastic. Uh, thanks for comin' by.” He glanced at Atlas on the couch. “Attie, don't you have work today? Don't want to be late, I'll give you a ride.”

“Uh-uh, hold it. You know, I'm so glad to hear you say that, John B, but I heard a few things that worried me. Some things that include my daughter. Let me see if I can remember. . .”

Atlas shook her head as if to say I didn't tell her and John B relaxed. Whatever the sheriff was getting at, she has no idea. She hadn't gone home the night before, choosing to sleep on the couch to avoid her for that exact reason.

Sheriff Peterkin walked slowly to the wall with the family photos hanging on it. She eyed the picture of John B's uncle. “Oh yeah,” she said. “One of the things I heard was that your Uncle Teddy, your guardian, hasn't been in the state for three months.”

“Yeah, that's false,” he lied easily. His eye hurt.

“You don't have to say anything, I know it's true. I called the school. They said you used to be a good student, but now you're failin' all your classes.”

“No. No, I'm only failing one, and it's history. The dude's a dick, he's out for me. But At―”

“And I heard there was a fight on the beach yesterday, and a gun was involved.”

“Okay. Gun? No.” John B patted the sheriff's shoulder. “Did I get in a dust-up? Yes, but was there a gun? No. No way. Ask Atlas, she brought me home, took care of my eye, we watched the stars, and then fell asleep.”

The sheriff hummed. She wasn't buying a word of the boy's story. She looked across the room at Atlas. “That's okay. I know who it was. I'll get to him. All I'm worried about right now is makin' sure you're in a safe home. And you're not gettin' Atlas mixed up in anything she shouldn't be.”

“Yeah, super safe. Super sound, sturdy,” John B assured.

Atlas groans. “I'm fine, Sheriff. The fight wasn't even that bad.”

“And, Uncle T's comin' back, so. . .”

“That what he told you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, if he really is comin' home, I think you should be allowed to stay. But if I stick my neck out for you, you have to help me. Tit for tat.”

“What does tat mean?”

Atlas laughed. “Jesus, Booker.”

Sheriff Peterkin met John B and Atlas across the room. She had a plan, they could see it in her eyes. If she wasn't sure about them being involved in the Grady-White business before, she certainly suspected it now. She looked first at her foster daughter and then at John B. “Let me see, how can you help me? Oh, I know. So, a body was found in the marsh yesterday. Were you two in the marsh yesterday?”

John B nodded. “Yeah, we were fishin' for some drum.”

“You catch anything?” the sheriff asked.

“Nah, we were skunked.”

“Strange. Fishin's usually good after a storm. All sorts of things get stirred up.” She turned to Atlas. “You come across a wreck yesterday?”

“No,” the girl answered. She pushed her eyebrows together. “What are you saying?”

“You skimmin' just above the surface, John B. Now, down here is foster care, juvie. Atlas can tell you―foster care ain't all that nice, is it? Pretty big drop for a smart kid like you.” She held her hand at eye level. “Up here is you and your little friends, Atlas included, doing whatever you want. Outer Banks. . .or foster care on the mainland.”

John B reeled back.

He knew the sheriff meant what she said, knew he could be moments away from leaving the island if he made one wrong move. And what about Atlas? What would happen to her and JJ without him? It was never just about him, he always had them to think about too. He couldn't risk it. But a small part of him still wanted to.

The sheriff put her hand up silencing Atlas before she said anything further. “You one inch above the surface, John B. If I was you, I'd start flappin' my wings. Now, you sure you ain't come across a wreck yesterday?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure.” John B's heart pounded against his ribcage. He understood why Atlas spent so much time away from home.

“It's better if you didn't, you understand? I'm gonna look the other way, as long as you stay out of the marsh. And, I won't send Atlas to the mainland for the summer, so long as you stay out of the marsh.”

John B and Atlas sat in complete silence as they watched Sheriff Peterkin's squad car leave the property. Neither one spoke about what they'd been told, too shocked to say anything, but they were both thinking the same thing ― somehow they had to convince JJ to give up his silly dream of looting Scooter Grubbs' Grady-White. It was a pipe dream. If it meant John B didn't have to worry about DCS breathing down his neck and Atlas got to stay on the island for the summer, it was worth giving up. But how would they convince JJ of that?

John B paced the length of the front room, his nerves were in overdrive. Sheriff Peterkin's threat held up as well as anyone, she'd made herself the authority over John B in such a way that seemed impossible to break away from. The only thing left to do was forget the Grady-White existed.

“You and I both know JJ's not gonna give up, Booker,” Atlas said.

“Well, we have to make him. I can't go into foster care, Attie,” John B panicked.

The sound of JJ's dirt bike coming up the gravel driveway alerted the duo that their time was up. Atlas breathed a deep sigh, it was now or never. “Let's go talk some sense into him, then.”

John B stared over the water as everyone lounged in his backyard. He needed to tell them, he had to put a stop to their heist before it was too late. He wouldn't be responsible for ruining the summer for Atlas. He knew what JJ was going to say, and he felt bad for letting his best friend down. But Atlas was his best friend too, and she was counting on him to help her stay local.

“Look, I'm callin' it off. All right? Peterkin said, if I stay out of the marsh, she'll help me with DCS.”

“And you believed her?” JJ asked, incredulous.

“Yes, I believe her, JJ. Not just for me. She said she'll let Attie stay on the Outer Banks for the whole summer. But we have to stay out of the marsh.”

“An actual cop, John B. You believed a cop.”

“Yeah, and that cop is kinda like my mom or whatever, so. . .” Atlas said, shrugging. She hated when JJ got like that, they all did.

“Your foster mom. Okay? So, I don't wanna hear it from you.”

“All I gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple days, and she'll help me out. It doesn't help that your ass was the one who was shootin' a gun.”

JJ threw a rock somewhere in the distance. “You know what I should have done, man? I should've just let Topper drown your ass.”

“Yeah, because Topper was gonna drown me?”

“It sure looked like it.”

“That's really funny,” John B said.

“I mean, have you looked in a mirror recently?” the blond continued.

“Keep going, come on. Tell me some more. Come on.”

“They always win, don't they, man?” John B understood JJ wasn't just talking about the rich snobs from Figure Eight. His resentment ran deeper, much deeper. “Kooks versus Pogues. They always, always win! Goddamn!”

“Look, it's okay!” Kiara said when it became clear neither of the boys were backing down.

JJ disagreed. “No, it's not okay! It is not! They don't want us to go down into the marsh. That means there's something valuable down there, and you know it. I know you do.” He looked at Pope who had been silent through the whole exchange. “And I understand why you don't wanna go. You're the golden boy. You got way too much to risk. And you”―he turned to Kiara―“I mean, you're already rich as fuck anyway. Why would you bother?”

Atlas nodded; harsh but true.

To John B, he said, “But you and me, man, and Atlas. . .we got nothin' to lose! We really don't, all right? And I know, it didn't use to be that way for you.”

“I don't want to talk about this. I don't want to talk about it.” John B had enough. He stepped off of the porch intending to leave the conversation behind. Why did he ever think he could get JJ on his side for once?

“So that's it?”

“Just get out of my way, bro.”

“J, let him go, all right?” Atlas pulled on his arm, hoping to redirect his attention but he was too wrapped up in what he wanted from John B to listen to her. 

He followed after the older boy. One way or another, he was going to get his idea across. “John B, listen to me. I have a plan. You got the key to Cameron's big boat, right?”

“No,” he said.

“There's scuba gear,” he continued in a rush. “We borrow that, and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon, and that is what's gonna save you, man. You and Attie. You don't see rich kids going into foster care, do you? So, you take Attie with you as a lookout, borrow the gear, we'll meet up back here and go loot that wreck. It's the perfect plan!”

“A perfectly stupid plan that will get all of us thrown in juvie if we get caught,” Atlas said coming up behind them.

“Which is why my favourite big sister won't let that happen, will she?”

“You wish I was your sister, JJ. And, you dont have to kiss up to me. I'm in.”

John B: You know, I should have learned a long time ago to never listen to JJ. He's full of bad ideas, like stealing from my rich boss. And bringing Atlas along as an accomplice. But this time, he was right. I had nothing to lose.

My dad said the island was like America on steroids. The haves and have-nots like anyplace, but magnified and multiplied. The way I see it, the game's rigged. Maybe it always has been. And with no parents, no money, and no one looking out for me, I got no chance. . .unless I make it on my own.

John B drove the HMS Pogue up behind the familiar boat owned by the Camerons. It was too late to turn back. He tied the Pogue to the anchor on the dock behind the My Druthers, a remark from Atlas about the boat's stupid name had him smiling to himself as he quietly left her in the Pogue. He held his finger up to his lips, a signal to stay quiet, though he knew he didn't have to worry about her giving them away. That was one area where she and JJ differed.

John B sneaked onto the yacht quiet as church mice, cautious of the fact Sarah sat in her backyard with her friends. John B knew Atlas hated her, he wanted to know why but didn't want to risk upsetting her in the middle of their mission. He waited for her signal, then dropped his bag onto the deck of the Druthers, when he was sure no one had noticed, he followed. He made his way down below, leaving Atlas out in the HMS Pogue to watch for the first sign of trouble.

He was certain he'd make it off of the boat without a hitch after placing the tanks and gear in his bag. He locked the door and headed above deck, a weight lifting off his shoulders until. . .

“Oh! Hey! Are you stalking us? Plotting your revenge?” Sarah Cameron.

Where the hell is Atlas' signal? John B scoffed, “Yeah. You know what, why don't you just tell your daddy I blew the bilge on the Druthers? Everything's good to go. Just toppin' off these tanks.”

Sarah went after him down to the lower deck where he climbed back into the HMS Pogue. “Hey, are you okay? 'Cause, that eye of yours looks really gnarly.”

“Yeah, you can tell Topper he won the first round. I'll get him next time.”

“So there's just gonna be a reign of terror on this island now?”

“You know, wars have been started for less, Sarah Cameron.” He still didn't see Atlas.

“Okay. Can we drop the whole Pogues versus Kooks thing? It is really stupid,” Sarah sighed.

John B glanced up at her where she leaned over the edge of the My Druthers. “You know, that's easy to say when you're a Kook.” She flipped him off.

He started the engine on the Pogue and waited a few minutes to be sure Sarah was on the other side of the yacht, then whistled a high note and waited ten seconds before whistling again. Atlas pulled herself over the starboard side of the Pogue.

“Dude, what the hell? What happened to being my lookout?”

Atlas wrung the water from her hair and peeled her t-shirt and shorts from her body. She balled the wet garments up and threw them at John B's head, and he ducked. “She came running down the dock and I didn't have time to worry about you getting caught when at least you get paid to be here. I don't. Besides, sounds like you had it handled.”

“That a hint of jealousy I hear, Attie?”

“In your dreams, Routledge.”

John B was antsy. His hair stuck to his neck in the sweltering heat of the afternoon. The closer the Pogues got to the marsh, the more agitated he noticed Atlas had become. In recent years, she'd developed more of a knack for disobeying the sheriff's direct orders, usually based on helping JJ. This time, he reasoned, was no different. If JJ was going to go down for this, so would Atlas.

He couldn't stop thinking about his conversation with Sarah before they left the Druthers. Why did she care so much about what he thought of her and the Kooks? It's not like they'd ever be accepted into Kook society anyway. And what did it matter if he fought Topper again? After all, wasn't that what Dirty Pogues did? The more he thought about Topper, the angrier he felt.

John B sat down next to Atlas as they came to a halt in the marsh where they discovered the wreck the day before. He lightly bumped her shoulder with his. “You good, Attie?”

She nodded, smiling. “Mmhm. Always.”

He moved a strand of hair caught in her lashes and tucked it behind her ear. “Thanks for being here,” he said quietly. “I know it kinda puts you in a lot of trouble with your mom.”

“I can handle the sheriff,” she said.

John B frowned. Atlas never called Sheriff Peterkin “Mom,” and he didn't think she ever would. Suddenly he felt guilty for bringing her into his mess. Atlas knew him like the back of her hand.

“Wouldn't miss this crazy shit for the world, Booker,” she assured him.

“Hey. Quit flirting with my sister,” JJ cut in, throwing Atlas' still-wet t-shirt between them. She sent him a dissatisfied glare; she wouldn't trade him for anything.

Kiara inspected the oxygen tanks John B and Atlas made off with. She scowled. “John B, this is empty. You took empty tanks. This one's a quarter full. It's enough for one of us.”

“Love it when a plan comes together,” Pope joked dryly. They couldn't blame him for his attitude, he had too much at stake but he was with them all the same.

“Does anybody know how to dive?” Kiara asked, posing the important question to the group.

“It's kind of a Kook sport,” said JJ.

“Surfing is more our speed,” Atlas agreed.

Pope raised his hand. “I. . .read about it.”

“Great, Pope read about it, so someone's gonna die.”

“You're too much of a pessimist, Kie,” Atlas sighed.

“Look, y-you put the thing in your mouth and breathe. How hard could it be?” JJ handed his cap to Atlas.

“Well, if you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood, and you get the bends,” Pope told him.

The blond bent over, pushing his butt out into the air. “Bends like, bend over and. . .”

“The bends kill you.”

“Right.”

John B read the pained expression on Atlas' face and knew she was thinking about what could happen to any one of them if they were to dive and something went wrong. He thought of how his world would end if anything were to happen to JJ or Atlas. He took a deep breath. “I can― I can dive.”

“Yeah, you can dive. I'm cool with that,” JJ decided.

“I'm not,” Atlas disagreed.

“Since when can you dive?” Kiara asked for both of them.

“I'll do it. It's fine,” he said.

Pope grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil and began drawing and writing out some kind of formula related to diving. No one knew how it was going to work, but it was worth whatever knowledge Pope could lend to the situation. “Let me do some calculations real quick. So, that boat's about 30 feet down, right? So it'll take 25 minutes at most at that depth. Which means you need to make your safety stop at about. . .ten feet. All right? For two minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah. 10 feet, two minutes. Got it,” John B repeated back.

Kiara stood from her spot on the boat and shrugged out of her t-shirt, wordlessly she jumped into the water and disappeared beneath the surface. John B looked over at Atlas who shook her head.

“What was that all about?” asked Pope.

“I don't know, but I liked it. A lot,” JJ answered, staring after Kiara. Atlas leaned over and punched his thigh.

“You're despicable.”

“Uh, so. . .”

“All righty.” Pope didn't ask what happened between them.

JJ cleared his throat and took his hat back. He whacked Atlas in the shoulder with it and turned to John B. “Yeah, uh. . . When you're down there, you look for the cargo hold. You stick this thing inside and twist and pull, okay?”

“Stick it in the hole, twist and pull.” John B put the oxygen tank on his back.

“Yeah, my dad moved some weight back in the day.”

Kiara resurfaced. “Hey! I tied my t-shirt to the anchor chain about ten feet down. It's where you need to do your safety stop.”

“Cool.”

“Keep an eye on this. You need to make sure you have enough air to decompress,” Pope said, handing John B the regulator.

“Okay, how much do I need?”

“Unclear. Breathe as little as possible.”

“Zen. Think zen, you know?” JJ offered.

“Hey, if we get caught out here in the marsh, we're basically screwed, so. . . Better get a move on.”

Just then John B felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. You're named after a Titan and I'm the one that feels like everything is too heavy. He sighed, pulling Atlas off to the edge of the boat. “Hey. Don't get caught out here for me,” he said.

“Eh, I've done worse,” she answered. She gave him her signature two-finger salute. “As you were, John B.”

“Diver down?”

“Diver down.”

John B disappeared beneath the water's surface.

There was a certain poetry to going out like that. Things always came around full circle, maybe this was theirs? A mournful feeling washed away the excitement as he grappled with every single thing that led up to that point; gone in the blink of an eye, and all he could think to do was keep going.

He didn't know how long he'd been down there, wasn't sure how much time had passed when he made it to the bottom of the marsh floor. He tried to keep his mind on finding the cargo hold and securing whatever was inside of it. He followed the instructions JJ gave him, grabbed the bag that was inside and headed for the surface.

He searched for Kiara's t-shirt tied to the anchor's chain for his safety stop. Two minutes was all he had. And then a boat pulled up beside the Pogue. They were screwed. John B's nerves shot up when he saw Atlas take a deep breath and sink below the water.

Their gazes met and John B didn't need to be above water to know it was the sheriff's department, the look on her face told him so. He was about to hit the two-minute mark on his safety stop and there was nothing they could do, they were stranded until the cops left. Atlas reached for the bag in his hand and he let her take it. She grabbed his other hand with her free one and laced their fingers together.

He wasn't sure what to make of the strange moment passing between them there. And when she squeezed his hand three times, at ten-second intervals between each one, his heart plummeted. He understood, he had to. No one knew her better, except maybe JJ. Promise me you'll take care of him. She was making a loaded request of him, right there and then. And how could he say no? How could she ask? But she had, and he accepted because he was John B. He'd do anything for his crew. He'd do anything for her.

John B knew that in a perfect world, this was how Atlas wanted to die. In the water, her favourite place to be, with her best friend to watch over her soul until it quietly left the Earth. . .

They checked the timer on the oxygen tank, he had less than ten seconds to get out of the water.

Atlas released his hand and he wished she'd come back. He could barely feel his heart beating anymore, all he could think about was her leaving their friends behind. He knew as soon as the cops were gone she'd push John B to the surface and make sure he lived to tell the tale of their adventures. Atlas, the girl who carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. . .

The two-minute mark ended. John B was not going to let her die down there.

When the deputy's boat was out of sight and Atlas shoved the bag back in his arms and motioned for him to swim up, he shook his head. He refused to go without her. He didn't care that he was out of air and wasting time; John B was not leaving Atlas behind.

His head broke through the surface and the Pogues sighed in relief, he pulled the mask from his face and selfishly gulped air into his lungs before disappearing again. He grabbed Atlas by the arm and pulled her up behind him. Never leave a Pogue behind. It wasn't just a rule, it was a way of life.

John B didn't say what he was thinking as he dragged Atlas from the water. He sat next to her in understanding silence, letting the moment that passed between them in the water drift away somewhere in its icy depths. He wouldn't mention it unless she did. He understood Atlas well enough to know that what happened between them in the marsh, stayed between them in the marsh. And how would he look his best friend in the eye and tell him that the girl he saw as his sister was willing to die for them anyway? He couldn't, not today.

“Hey, guys? Guys, bogey, two o'clock,” Kiara cut through his swirling thoughts and he wasn't thinking about losing Atlas to the darkness of the marsh anymore.

All eyes were on the boat speeding toward them with no intention of stopping.

“Do you recognize that boat?” Pope asked, pulling John B and Atlas from the haze of their near-death experience.

“I've never seen it,” Kiara denied. “What are they doing back there? The marsh is closed?”

“I don't know, but let's not stick around to find out,” JJ said. And then, “Attie, you don't think it's the sheriff, do you?”

Atlas shook her head. “No. She wouldn't come out here for us, she has Deputy Dumbass for that. She'd wait for us on land at John B's.”

“JJ get the bowline,” John B instructd. He patted Atlas on the shoulder and moved to the wheel.

“Should we wait on 'em?” Pope asked.

“No, we're not gonna wait on 'em. Go get the stern.”

“Guys, don't wait for me. Don't wait for me,” JJ said, struggling with the anchor and Atlas rushed to help him. Together they pulled the anchor up as John B headed out of the marsh, eyes cast on the boat in front of them.

“I don't like the look of this,” said John B. “Are they coming for us?”

“Maybe they were fishing for drum too. . .” It was an innocent thought, the benefit of the doubt, but something told John B it didn't apply to the men ahead of them. “Go into the marsh.”

“I'm going. Act natural.”

“B, I hate to say this, but we don't have time for natural. Those aren't the sheriff's men.” The other boat came into view and Atlas was certain she had never seen the men on it before. They picked up speed, turning into the marsh behind the Pogue. “Hey, guys. They're following us!”

JJ frantically patted John B's arm. “You gotta go faster!”

“I'm going! I'm going!”

“Gun it!”

A gunshot went off and bullets flew by the side of the Pogue. John B sped through the marsh.

“Yep. Definitely not the cops!” Atlas shrieked.

“John B, get down!” JJ threw himself across Atlas' body as another spray of bullets arced through the air. Another shot went off and they flinched, clinging to each other on the bottom of the Pogue. As Atlas twisted around under JJ, his arm slipped. “Quit movin',” he scolded.

“Kie, the net!” she shouted over the din. She crawled out from under JJ and maneuvered over Pope. “Come help me!”

“Atlas, Kie, get down!” John B called as he worked to put distance between them and their pursuers. Another bullet whizzed by his head. . .all of this for whatever he found in the Grady-White, he was sure of it.

The girls tied a rope to the fishing net and made their way to the rear of the boat. Together they lobbed it into the water behind them, it caught the propeller of the boat. They cleared its vicinity and fled a spray of gunshots.

“Holy shit!” Pope yelled.

“Booyeah! Pogue god, man! That's my sister!” JJ celebrated with him.

In everyone's excitement, they missed the wound on Atlas' shoulder.

It was well after sunset when the Pogues reached home.

John B pulled the HMS Pogue in to moor at the end of his dock, and they all sat under the gazebo. Adrenaline coursed through their veins; two near-death experiences for two of the crew and the Pogues were jazzed up. The bag John B pulled from the wreck hung at his side, he was eager to open it up and find out what was inside, but his mind wandered. He thought back to the moment underwater with Atlas when she said goodbye and he could do nothing but take it.

When it came down to dying for her best friend or spending the summer apart, Atlas chose John B without hesitation. Whatever was in the bag, he promised none of his friends would ever have to make that sacrifice again.

“What do you guys think it is?” Kiara asked, waiting excitedly for John B to open it up.

“Well, it's gotta be money or something, right?” he said, looking it over.

JJ nodded. “That or a couple of keys with street value to the low- to mid-mils.”

Atlas pushed him over. “In your dreams, Maybank. Pogies don't get the good stuff.”

“Yeah, shut up.” He smiled.

Pope paced the length of the dock between the boat and his friends. The anticipation rolling off of him was heavy. He stopped and climbed the railing on John B's right. “Can we please just open the bag?”

“Wow, Pope.” John B looked up at his friend with a mocking shocked expression in his eyes. “That's a rare outburst of emotion coming from you.”

Atlas giggled. “Damn, Pope. It's like we almost died to get this, huh?”

“Shut up, Siren.” Pope rolled his eyes. “Okay. You guys are literally killing me with anticipation. Just open the bag. We almost died over this.”

Atlas nearly fell over laughing.

John B undid the ties on the bag and pulled it open, he pulled out a thermos and twisted the lid off. No one spoke. He turned it over, dumping the contents into his hand. In his palm rested an antique he immediately recognized; he flipped it open. A lump formed in his throat.

“Oh, wow. Yup. That's about right. Good job, everybody. We found a compass,” Pope complained.

“Hey, Pope? Shut up,” Atlas chided. She knew the look on John B's face well, too well.

“Dude, what? It's not worth anything,” said JJ, disappointment lingering in his voice. He swatted Atlas' hand away when she pinched his side.

“John B?” Atlas called softly. She knelt beside him and rested her right hand on his left, the compass held carefully between their palms, her thumb gently stroking over his.

They hadn't talked about what happened in the water, but they needed to. It could wait; at that moment, John B needed more from her than what she gave him at the wreck.

She squeezed his fingers, a promise to stick by him no matter what. She searched his face for answers.

“What is it, Book?”

“This was my father's,” his words hung in the air. A beat passed, and no one spoke. John B looked up at Atlas. There was hope in those warm brown eyes, and she already knew what was coming next.

🏷: @chilling-seavey

#🌊 wasteland baby #john b fanfiction #jj maybank fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #obx fanfiction #john b routledge #jj maybank

[oddlykilledghosts]

I Want You To Like Me - Rafe Cameron x reader (Part Three)

Summary: You're a pogue by choice, kook from birth. The friendship that you have with the other pogues is undeniable, no one questions their loyalty for you or your loyalty to them. So when a certain King of the Kooks takes interest in you, it's only right to turn him down. Right?

Apologies for the long wait! Had a lot of ways this chapter could’ve gone…but hopefully you guys like what I ended up on…I also ended with a little less Rafe than I had intended but that equals more parts for later on

Also do you guys want me to share my outer banks playlist I listen to while writing these fics? I also have one specifically for this series! Lemme know

p.s. I had Paramore’s “All I Wanted” on repeat while writing this particular part so do with that what you will

Word Count: 7k

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x reader, John B x Sarah Cameron, platonic!Pogues x reader

The phone call aftermath moved very quickly. You had taken a couple minutes too long, soaking up the air that had reached you in the wind from the ocean in a sore attempt to calm your flushed cheeks, and when you returned to the Chateau Pope was awake and Kie and John B had fallen into an argument that left your stomach heavy with added dread. At least, you thought to yourself, that this dread was familiar. Talking on the phone with Rafe Cameron while he was oh so casually “hitting balls” with Topper and Kelce at the country club most definitely did not fall into that category. Pope, who was using the same cereal bowl as you had been and had hopefully cleaned it before his own use, was sitting in the kitchen in a hungover daze looking like he wanted to step into the fight and use a few calming words but couldn’t quite make the leap there. The Chateau’s exterior door to the screened-in porch creaked on its hinges but the indoor entryway opened without noise when you walked in. This calmed your heart rate after hearing the voices inside get louder when you approached the house, not wanting to involve yourself too much in a fight when you had JJ’s hat to be dealt with. Neither of those things mattered though, because when you stood in the doorway debating how to get to your room without getting in the sight of either of the two bickering pogues, Kie spotted you, just as you deciphered what they were arguing about. Sarah. 

In these types of fights between the pogues, there were always sides, but there was also the essential knowledge that the fighting would eventually be resolved. In being the two girls in the group, you ended up sticking by Kie in a lot of times of need whether you agreed with her or not. JJ tended to pick John B. Pope was always the mediator. It was how things worked. And they worked well. This instance, however, was odd. 1) because JJ was out surfing, 2) You owed John B, and 3) because you needed John B’s help with Rafe that day too…which meant Kie was right AND was going to be left in the dust. Plus, a little bit of you also hated that Kie happened to be right that particular day about that particular (*cough* the Cameron’s) topic. Mostly because that very day you were going to go against almost every word she was saying.

Kie reached a hand out to you, urging you to show your alliance by standing physically next to her. If you went, you would be parallel to John B and crossing a line across the threshold. Her eyes poked holes in your heart, as if her gaze caused the blood to fall slowly out of it and pool around your feet in a painting of guilt. It was one argument. She would forgive you. Except that this small, meaningless fight meant more and you knew it. It meant sides. Sides that weren’t in this room. Sides that you and John B were taking. Were you willing to risk fighting for one kiss? That one kiss swam in your bones and it felt so warm, so similar to the sun hitting your skin. But this was wrong. “Y/N, you know I’m right, right?” Your hesitation caused Kie to falter. Normally, she would be full of confidence and show no mercy to her opponents, but as a friend you held her heart in your hands. Unfortunately, you were about to squeeze a little.

You eyed John B carefully but even he looked a little lost and frustrated as you met his gaze. His eyes wavered a bit just as you stepped a foot closer to his side of the room-

“Y/N kissed Rafe.” The room suddenly felt stiff with hot Outer Banks air as the words fell from John B’s mouth.

“WHAT?” Your head snapped immediately back to John B, while at the same time Kiara echoed your shock and your word and looked towards you. Pope munched on his cereal, still a little sleepy and a little bit scared to intervene until he has his wits about him. Luckily he had already gulped down Kiara’s concoction, as it was sitting empty next to his bowl, so he was sure to sober up faster than usual. 

“And he has JJ’s hat.” John B helpfully added to his last statement.

This time only Kiara spoke, “What the fuck, Y/N.” She placed a hand on her forehead and looked down at her feet which you noticed were a pair of vans that had originally belonged to you.

Heartbeat slowing a bit, you paused, looking between John B and Kiara. When your eyes glanced over John B his own eyes urged you to talk. To say something. You didn’t know what his game was. John B obviously had kept his relationship secret for some time now, only making a slip up the night before. Why couldn’t you? Why couldn’t you figure this out without judgment you knew was going to come from your friends? You thought John B understood this. He had forgiven you easily, but only because of his own indiscretions with the middle Cameron sibling. You knew how much this feud hurt Kie, you had been there when it happened. You couldn’t hurt her like this. 

But you already had. 

Kie stood still for a minute, staring at your silence, and finally after playing with the multiple friendship bracelets on her wrist she spoke again with an exasperated sigh, “Let’s go get the hat, Y/N.”

Then she walked out of the Chateau.

“You should probably follow her.” Pope said between munches, he had already poured himself another bowl. The solo cup that had been taped to his hand from the night before had been attacked and was hanging limply but was still unfortunately attached.

When you started towards the door, Pope added with a heavy amount of side eye towards the leader of the pogues, “Both of you.” John B, not wanting to cross Pope when he was probably right, pushed past you and followed Kie out towards the Twinkie. 

“You’ll talk to-” You said, stopping at the door.

“JJ. Yup.” Pope responded. You gave your friend a smile and he gave you one back, laughing a little cautiously as he added, “You know Rafe’s a dick, right?”

You shook your head, a little happy Pope didn’t seem as mad and a little disappointed in yourself that you were here in this situation at all. “Yeah. Just-”

“Talk to JJ. I know. I’ll distract him until you guys get back.”

When you went to leave you again stopped and turned back to Pope, “You don’t hate me, do you?”

Pope turned towards you with a light and soft smile on his face, “No, I don’t, Y/N. Now let me eat my third bowl of cereal. It’s brain-”

“-food. Blah blah. I’m leaving.”

_______________________

When you reached the cars (there were usually only two there, yours and the Twinkie, as well as JJ’s dirt bike) your car was missing and you assumed JJ had taken it down to his favorite surf spot, so Kie had already made herself comfortable in the front seat of the VW van. When you were close enough to see your friends through the windows, you could tell there had been a little spat before you got there because John B was sulking in the back. 

There were always signs that John B was actually upset, only this time you couldn’t even decipher his side profile. He looked more on edge than anything. You wished you could lend him JJ’s hat, as if transferring the magic again…but you’d have to get the hat first and that seemed like it would happen after Kie killed you both. If Kie was really about to blow up she might think to do it in the Twinkie driving 80 down the highway so no one could hear the lecture she was about to induce upon the two of you. The hat magic might cheer up you and John B after being totally eviscerated though.

You knocked on the driver’s side window, and Kiara, looking a little pissed but not fuming, rolled it down. “Yes?” 

The thing was it was weird you could never view Kiara as angry. Yes, she had a lot of anger towards kooks and the environmental damages people and corporations were doing to the planet, but to you she was easy going and carefree and liked to have fun. Her eyebrows being furrowed always submitted confusion first in your mind, not anger. Especially when it was targeted at you.

“I assume I am also in a backseat timeout?”

“Get in the passenger seat, Y/N/N.”

Nicknames were a good sign, so you followed suit and climbed into the passenger side of the Twinkie and hoped Kiara wasn’t planning on crashing the van in a crime of passion and narrowly escaping as the sole survivor.

At first the drive was very quiet. Neither you or John B spoke, but you did send back and forth worrying glances. It was easy to read John B when you knew him like you did, easier now that he was letting you in on his feelings. His eyes gave everything away, and once you got used to looking in them, more often or not it was hardly a feat to discover what his true purposes were. However, you also wanted to send daggers through John B. But as much as you were angry with him you trusted him. He rarely saved his own ass instead of his friends. If this was an attempt to leech all the anger Kiara had about kooks away from him and onto you, you would’ve been able to tell. And so far, there was no sign of that in his deep brown irises. 

Then finally, halfway across the Cut, Kiara started talking. Well, she was more likely demanding answers than plainly having a chat. It started with a question, “Is what John B said true?”

Both you and John B started speaking at the same time but John B was louder and cut you off, “I wouldn’t lie about-”

Kie snapped back quickly, still keeping her eyes on the road, “I was asking Y/N. So shut up.” John B opened his mouth once more to protest, but no words came out and he closed it just as fast.

You sighed as the Twinkie came to a red light, “Yes. I kissed Rafe last night. To be fair, I think I was drunk. But either way, I’m sorry.”

Kie let out a breath, “Is this an ongoing thing?”

You tried to hide the fact that it might be becoming one, but your hesitation with your answer cued Kie off. “...No.”

“But you like him.”

“Jury’s out on that one.”

John B piped up, “I have a feeling the Jury has its verdict.”

At the same time you reached back to hit him, Kiara again told John B to be quiet. Then she continued and peeked a soft glance at you while she was driving while occasionally looking back to the idle road, “You weren’t going to tell me?”

“Maybe not yet? I was very worried I was making the wrong move.”

She sighed and then pulled over onto the side of the street. “Y/N, yeah, I’m mad at you.” Then she took a deep breath in, and with a little more tension in her shoulders she continued, “But you deserve to figure things out. I’ve mostly figured my side of things out…but you came from that side of the island too. However, you are also a pogue, and you are also my best friend. I don’t want you to get hurt. And Rafe well…” Kiara’s voice was full of hard edges and warnings of being careful (and mostly not to cross her again) but you knew she was trying to be understanding. It wasn’t a full switch from how she had been fighting with John B at the Chateau but it was a kinder (in retrospect) approach.

“He’s quite an interesting choice.” John B piped up.

“Shut up John B.” You and Kie said at the same time, and you turned back to each other a smile tainting both of your lips. Connection. You felt this overwhelming urge to hug your friend. Like it was new and fresh, seeing her with clean eyes. It was refreshing to see that your assumptions about Kiara’s reaction had been wrong. That you were worried about this big explosion and the volcano had passed by nonthreateningly. She was still very much her assertive self, but it was recognizable and not seized with so much anger that you couldn’t move past it. That you had been right to trust your gut that Kie was not harboring anger for you, and she never had been. It would just take her time to understand if this was something you really wanted. It would take time for you to understand.

Although there was still anger there that you could clearly see underneath her civility and in her tone that you would be able to work through it at a later date. Maybe when this whole Rafe thing turned out to be a flitting desire and not something that would cause a bigger debacle. You were sure though, that if Kie had suspected it was just hooking up, she would’ve been less angry. It was one thing to have sex with a Kook and it was another to be thinking about having real feelings for one. Especially Rafe. 

“It’s not like I couldn’t see this coming, you have been in love with him since we were friends with Sarah.” Kie added, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes as she showed off some of the facial expressions she had been holding back. 

“I have not been in love with him-” You protested, pouting a little that you had seemed that transparent.

Kie laughed a little and interrupted you, “Okay sure, recently you’ve said you hated him. Which was apparently a lie.”

“Lie my ass!” You protested again, pushing your friend playfully as she sat still at the wheel of the unmoving Twinkie.

“Well either you’re lying to us or yourself.” John B chided annoyingly as he purposefully messed up your hair and leaned up to where you and Kie were sitting. “I think it’s better I said something, look at you two as close as ever.” 

Which was exactly why John B spilled your stupid dirty laundry, you saw it plain and clear in his eyes and a little bit in that stupid smirk. You had figured it shortly into the drive, but John B didn’t want you to be in his position. Kiara was smart and fierce, but she was also stubborn. If you had wandered over to John B’s side and held your secret close to your chest, your friendship with your best friend might have never been the same. He was saving you from later fights. Because he was right, Rafe could end badly. You might need your best friend for that. Big John never said honesty was the best policy, but you liked to think that he would be proud of the pogues sticking together.

You stole a look at Kie and she nodded in confirmation, then you both used your hands to push John B back into the back of the Twinkie with force. He landed on the floor of the vehicle with a soft thud and a playful chuckle. “John B, you are a quarter forgiven. Don’t push your luck. You’re still dating my mortal enemy.” Kie said with a sharp tongue, throwing a dagger of a look towards your mutual friend. Somehow the incident with you had lightened her mood about Sarah, and you hoped she could also learn to forgive John B for keeping that a secret. You were ready just that morning to lay your life down for the same if not worse conditions.

“Does this mean I’m fully forgiven?” You asked, looking at Kiara and your similar chokers and shared shoes. There was a kinship there, in the things you shared as pogues. As if you were all connected. It showed in JJ’s shirts you found and ended up sleeping in. Or one of Pope’s button downs. But you and Kie shared the most, your styles intermingled and showed the bond. Kook turned pogue, mirror images. 

Kiara sighed and rolled her eyes, “I’m still deliberating. We still have to get the hat back.”

You checked your phone, it was eleven twenty a.m. you still had time to make it to Tannyhill. “Rafe said to meet him at Tannyhill at noon.”

In an attempt to not make things worse, you assumed Kiara elected to ignore that you had made plans to meet up with Rafe, whether it be for JJ’s hat or not. And you were glad she did. You needed your best friend.

“Gun it.” John B said with a smirk, still on the floor of the Twinkie. 

“This thing only goes so fast, Routledge.” Kiara retorted, but pulled back onto the road and hit the gas hard. 

___________________

You got to Tannyhill with ten minutes to spare, which was exceedingly lucky with how fast the Twinkie goes. When you arrived, you noticed that there were a few straggling cars from the night before that were still parked around the house and on the street. This time, rather than what you had thought the night before, you knew Ward would not approve this. He’s more of the kind of man that pretends to be friendly with neighbors and isn’t actually forgiving. But now with less people at the property, it was open enough to pull into the house’s driveway. You really hoped that Rafe was right and Sarah would not be home since everything was still fairly fresh with Kie. Seeing the two girls go head to head would be too much for one morning. 

When finally you made it close enough to the front door, Kiara put the Twinkie into park and looked around, as if a group of Kooks was about to ambush us. When she seemed to think it was all clear, she got out of the car. It was your turn to ask a question, “Where are you going?” you asked, a little afraid of what her answer would be because as soon as you asked it John B was already out of the car too (although a bit more comfortable with the house than Kie seemed to be).

Kie shrugged and motioned for you to come out, “We’re getting the hat, you coming Y/N/N?”

See, to you this could mean many things, and several of them went through your mind. The most common instance is that Kie would pummel Rafe. It was safer than sorry to follow your friends so you didn’t end up locked up after assaulting someone and Rafe claiming a B&E case.

You caught up quickly with your fellow pogues but started to protest that you should go in alone. That it was fine. You could get it and everything would be great. Both of your friends swatted your protests away as soon as you reached the front door. “You need backup,” Kie would say. “We get the hat, get out, it’ll be an adventure,” John B added, though you weren’t quite sure what adventure he was referring to that would land you at Tannyhill. Then Rafe opened the door, with you tugging on John B’s arm to turn back to the Twinkie, John B pulling you towards the door and Kiara’s arms crossed in a defensive pose. You froze with your hands locked around John B’s arm.

“Sarah’s not here.” Rafe said in a bored voice to John B, the door only open enough for his silhouette as if he were afraid all three of you would barge in if he opened it wider. His eyes subtly passed over you in a quick motion as he scanned the three of you and immediately you dropped John B’s arm. A sizable bit of embarrassment washed over you, but you let it go easily as you looked at Rafe in the doorway. Mostly because if anyone at all knew that you weren’t with John B, it would be the Cameron boy. 

Kiara spoke up in a stern voice, “We’re here for the hat, actually.”

Rafe’s eyebrows twitched, as if remembering Kie’s brashness for the first time, “Well, actually, I’m curious why you think I have a hat you would want.”

Kiara pointed towards you without breaking eye contact with Rafe, “This one,” she paused and smiled smugly. “Seems to think you do.”

Rafe looked back to you swiftly but his expression stayed bored and made of stone, and his eyes went quickly back to Kiara, “Then only they can come in.”

Kie crossed her arms and looked at John B as if asking him a question but he shrugged subtly and she went to look at you, “Okay. We’ll be waiting.”

You stepped forward and Rafe opened the door to just fit you through, although you had to duck underneath his arm to get through the threshold. He smelled nice, you’re sure like some expensive cologne he owned, and it wafted close to you as you passed him almost enveloping your senses.

When he shut the door you heard John B yell something through the door that sounded a lot like, “No funny business you two!” And then something like Kie smacking him on his head.

———————————

Rafe led you to the living room, to the same couch on which you had talked to him the night before. But he stayed standing, leaning himself against the wall watching you. You couldn’t tell if he wanted you to sit down so you stayed standing opposite him and crossed your arms in an act to do something with your limbs. It seemed like he was telling the truth about not drinking much, he had been up early to golf and seeing him now he had the same glow around him that came with Cameron sobriety.

“So…” You started, looking at him expectantly. 

“Why are your friends here?” He asked, looking stern and unmoving. The house was more quiet than you remembered in your past kook years and it unnerved you a bit. When you had been friends with Sarah there was always laughing, always the three of you, and the house didn’t seem so big. But occupying the new space there again was the feeling you had, pulling you towards Rafe Cameron, as if it filled the emptiness. It buzzed inside your bones and all of a sudden all you could think about was kissing him again as if this feeling was controlling your every thought. Because you wanted to. You wanted to forget about your friends outside and “kooks vs pogues” and just kiss Rafe Cameron because you could. Because you had, and you weren’t ready to give that up. 

You were staring at his lips when Rafe spoke again, causing you to jolt back up to his blue eyes. “I didn’t think one kiss would have you running off to your friends so fast, Y/N.”

There was a hint of familiarity in his words that awakened your senses back to normal, something that reminded you of the old Rafe when he would tease you and Sarah. You shrugged, “They just want the hat and then they’ll leave.”

“Will you leave?” Rafe prompted harshly, stepping a foot closer to you and away from the wall. His eyes were cloudy and you couldn’t see beyond his intentions. You wanted to believe that he wanted you there. That you could stay. Spend a real day with Rafe away from everyone. 

It took a second for you to decide on your words, but when you did they came out easily, “You invited me, I planned to stick around.” You crossed your arms again after you spoke, a little uneasy in standing your ground. “Now where’s JJ’s hat?”

“Always sticking up for Maybank, Y/N. It’s really hard for me to believe you don’t have a thing for him.” As he spoke he walked towards one of the linen closets and waved you towards it. His words, you knew, were an insult coming from his mouth, but it barely bothered you. JJ and you were very close, as you were with all the pogues. Even John B had once mentioned the two of you becoming a couple. But it was odd it was something Rafe noticed. Then he spoke again, nodding you towards the closet, “Kept it nice and pretty for you.” His tone was a little condescending, but otherwise not laced with malice like you had expected.

You made a face at Rafe and walked over to the closet and when you opened the door there it was. You didn’t want to admit that his comment of ‘Kept it nice and pretty’ was actually accurate as it rested nicely on some fresh white towels. No gasoline stains or smells and no tears in it (as your imagination had led you to believe). It was sitting plainly in the closet. “Why is it-” You started.

Rafe was by your side the minute you spoke, sparing little distance between the two of you. “Didn’t want anyone to see it.” There were doubts to this comment, but you didn’t poke at them. His friends were casually showing up at Tannyhill most days, and even Sarah would’ve asked questions about Rafe having JJ’s hat in his possession.

“And I assume you didn’t want JJ’s hat ‘tainting’ your perfect room. Pogue paraphernalia would never dare to disrupt the King of the Kook’s room.” These words dripped with sarcasm, a usual tone in the Chateau, and it alarmed you that you were making playful remarks at the kook in front of you instead of plainly insulting him. 

Rafe ignored your joke, and slight jeer at him, and glanced at your lips a little too quickly. “Is this a confession that you’ve been thinking of my room, Y/N?”

You stepped back, trying to keep your composure, “No,” You grabbed the hat and pushed through Rafe to make your way back to the front door. You spoke this time now facing away from the kook, and slightly waving him off with the hat in your hand, “According to you, I should be fantasizing about JJ’s room.” Then you added quickly, “If anything.”

Before Rafe could catch up with you, you had already opened the door. Kie and John B fell hard onto the entryway’s hardwood floors as you swung the door open. It was obvious they had been leaning against the door when it had been closed. Either listening or resting against the doorway. Probably listening. You let it go, since you figured they had a right to be a little nosey. When you had opened the door quickly, the two pogues had fallen with a thud and now opened their eyes to you looming over them. “Got the hat.” You said cheerfully to your friends laying on the floor, waving the hat from your fingertips into their view. 

It seemed too easy. Too nice of Rafe to not burn up JJ’s hat in anger at the pogues. They’ve had enough squabbles for that to be possible. But there it was in your hands, and here you were ready to get it back to its owner as if nothing had ever happened. 

A part of you hoped that maybe that hat hinted at something softer in Rafe. The Rafe who might have liked you. Seen you care, and then cared in tandem. It didn’t seem like something he would do, and yet you wanted to hope. 

Kiara grabbed it from your hands and sat up, leaving John B to nurse his head while still laying pathetically on the floor. “Mission accomplished,” Kiara praised, a little in spite of herself and then looked annoyingly down at John B. “Get up, JJ’s probably already at the Chateau.”

At first John B didn’t move but only offered up both of his hands, and after a round of Kiara calling him pathetic you both helped him up. He was a lot heavier than he looked and Kiara kept calling him names but eventually you both got the boy standing upright. Rafe stood watch as you and Kiara struggled, not offering any help because either he knew it wouldn’t be received or he didn’t want to. Both you and Kiara made sure to send an unpleasant face his way but he just shrugged and looked smug. It was quick going after that as you all knew JJ could stay out on the ocean all day, but he wouldn’t as he had a shift at the country club. So there was a small window of him noticing it was gone and your friends being able to retrieve it back to him. 

As John B and Kiara were making their exit they turned back to you, as you had stayed in the entrance to Tannyhill. Kiara called back encouragingly and a bit hopefully, “You coming, Y/N/N?” John B looked more like he knew your answer already and gave you a little nod back towards yourself, and additionally towards Rafe who he could see standing beyond you. You could feel it again, that buzzing, that pull…whatever it was. It was here. And you wanted it. You wanted to feel it. You wanted to fall into it. And as always, it was radiating off of Rafe who was standing a few feet behind you. And now that you were here you were more than aware of his presence.

“No I’m okay, tell JJ I had to go home for the day.” You looked back behind you, catching a glimpse of Rafe again leaning up against the wall and watching you. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.” You waved to your friends, although Kiara looked a little unconvinced of your safety at the Kook residence, but she got into the Twinkie all the same and drove away (mostly after John B gave her a little nudge and not after she gave Rafe the finger). 

You turned around and closed the door.

__________________________

The minute you closed the door, no longer supervised, you felt the pull become stronger. It felt odd to be alone with him. You hadn’t spent this much time with the Kook since your days of being friends with his sister. Him just standing a few feet from you  felt intimidating. A beat of silence passed between the two of you as Rafe took you in.

You prayed he couldn’t hear your quickened heart beat.

“About last night-” You started, playing with the choker Kie had let you borrow. 

Rafe was suddenly moving towards you until he was a couple inches away. Subconsciously he took a small step back, but not quite big enough to give you any actual space to have your own thoughts. His eyes were suddenly harsh but when he spoke it was rushed and quiet, “If you’re going to say it was a mistake-”

You opened up your mouth to speak but he interrupted you before you could. “I don’t think it’s a mistake.”

Part of you wanted to be truthful, that you agreed. That you wanted more of him. But when you opened your mouth again, something else came out. “What?” Nerves got the better of you. This Rafe wasn’t one you were familiar with yet. The one clear with his feelings. Clear with feelings towards you.

That step that he took to separate the two of you was a distance you wanted to sever. And now, subconsciously hating that distance, you took a step forward towards the boy so close to you, and yet it still felt too far. You could practically feel the heat from his body and the breath coming evenly from his mouth and nose on your cheeks. Rafe’s eyes didn’t leave yours. Didn’t even look down to check you out, though he easily could. “Do you want me to say it?” Rafe questioned, leaning towards you a little more, wanting clear in his eyes so locked with your own.

Heat flooded into your cheeks, and you knew he was pretending not to be pleased at the sight. You wanted desperately to kiss him. To stop this pathetic excuse of talking. But you also did want him to say it. To soothe your mind about his intentions. “A little,” you said, trying to keep your voice as even as his. 

“You don’t think I want you?” Rafe chided, turning his head slightly to the side with a smirk. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I think you do and you don’t want to admit it.”

And then, with Rafe’s face twisted slightly in confusion, you closed the gap between the two of your bodies and pulled him close to you. You didn’t want to hesitate anymore, you wanted to dive in. His body reacted, even in his small state of shock at your words, and he melted slightly into you as you kissed, his arms immediately wrapping around you and pulling you as close to him as humanly possible. It was wanting. Wanting each other. Wanting more. Wanting this. His body was warm, so much warmer than you were, and he felt sturdy. Safe somehow. More stern than other people you’d kissed. Your hands found their way up to his hair and it was unsurprisingly soft, you used it to pull him closer to you. He happily obliged to your touch.

You could tell he urged to touch you anywhere he could, but his hands stayed protectively on your back and waist as if holding you was enough for now. They felt nice there, as if you belonged in his embrace. There was something in him holding back and you wanted to let it loose. To scream that he could do what he wanted. You tried to urge that in the kiss, but you let it stay safe.

And then a breath of air, the two of you wanting to breathe but not wanting it to end. When you both detached your hands were on either of his face, cupping him there in a soft touch. And then there were his words, so easily misinterpreted, “Do you want to go up to my room?”

____________________

You had passed Rafe Cameron’s room many times. Laughing with Sarah as you gossiped in the hallway on your way to her room. Knocking on it to remind him to come down for dinner with his family when you were invited over. You remember exactly where it was, but you let Rafe guide you up the stairs with his hand in yours which felt so warm you wished you could bottle his warmth to keep with you when you were cold. His palm burned in your hand as it pulled you along.

The door was closed, just as you remembered, but he opened it easily as he pulled you back onto him and into the unfamiliar space. There was no time to observe what he put on his bedside table or what books he liked to read because Rafe was on you, springing you onto the bed and met you with another kiss there. This time, however, his hands moved along your body and slid along your curves. You were there with him, matching his energy as you urged to tug off the t-shirt he was wearing. 

Kie had been right. You had wanted this. For longer than you even let yourself believe. 

And suddenly you felt a little guilty that you hadn’t seen it before. That you doubted Kiara would support you. That you had waited this long. Because for a second, this felt overwhelmingly right. Right enough that all that time that had passed where this had not happened felt like a waste.

A short breath of air as Rafe pulled off his shirt and leaned down to kiss you again. The quick second he was away from you, the pull you had begun feeling reappeared but this time it was intoxicating and welcoming and pleasurable all at once, and it begged you to bring him back down for another long kiss.

“Wait-” You said, short of breath and flushed in your cheeks. 

Rafe stopped, even though you hadn’t expected him too, and loomed over you expectantly as his body heat encapsulated you in warmth, “What?” He replied, sounding a little annoyed.

“I just-” You paused, pushing a small lock of hair from his face and brushing your hand against his face. He seemed to suddenly freeze at your touch, as if it was too intimate for him. The world honestly could’ve stopped right there for you, just looking up at him. But then another thought came into your mind. “Is this what you had in mind for a date?” You questioned, confusion and annoyance mixing into one now that you remembered what he had said on your short phone call earlier in the day. 

Rafe rolled off of you and onto the bed that was unoccupied on your right and let out a small huff, “No.” Was all he said. He didn’t move to fetch his shirt that was now discarded on the floor. 

All you had to do was turn your head to look at him, so you did, and he was staring at his ceiling fan with his eyebrows knit together. His own face was also a little flushed and you wanted to touch his cheek again to see if his own warmth was magnified there. “I don’t want to be a hookup Rafe.” Was what you replied. 

Rafe turned his head, his face still stern and unreadable, while little strands of his hair falling into his eyes as he did so, and calmed a single piece inside of you that thought you were being played by the eldest Cameron, “We have a reservation at the Island Club this evening.”

“What?” A little shock went through you as you sat up at his confession. You were going to be seen in public while having dinner with Rafe Cameron. As your first date. An actual date. Did he bring every girl to the Island Club on their first date? You didn’t think he did, you’d never heard that before anyways. He was casual, you’d seen him date girls his dad wanted him to. But even when you were at the Island Club with your family, you’d never seen a girl on Rafe’s arm or at the Cameron’s table other than his sisters. This was something bigger, and here he was saying it.

“Do you not want to go?” Rafe asked, rubbing his eyes, still laying on his back.

You looked down at the boy, “I’m just surprised. I was about to have sex with you.”

“You were surprised you were going to have sex with me?” 

“No. Rafe. It’s just- This is all very confusing.”

That made Rafe sit up to meet your eyes at a clear level. “Y/N.”

“I was just about to go against everything and become a hookup and here you are saying we have this reservation-” You ached to touch him again, but the inches between the two of you on the bed felt like it was growing with each second. 

Rafe interrupted you, “Do you think it was Sarah’s idea to invite John B to the party last night?” 

This threw you off for a second. 

“Yes?” You phrased this as a question, but it seemed obvious to you that it was Sarah’s decision.

“When she asked, I told her she could invite him hoping his friends would come. Hoping you would come.” Rafe’s face stayed stoic and his chest moved evenly, but what he said didn’t sound confident like he usually did. It sounded like it was the truth, behind a wall he didn’t want to let down.

“But you hate pogues.” Rafe looked at you like you were stupid until you realized what he was saying, “You sat next to me on purpose.”

This time Rafe raised his eyebrows in annoyance, “It took awhile for Maybank to leave you the fuck alone, that’s for sure.”

A beat of silence as you went through the night before. 

“What if I didn’t come? What if I didn’t like you?” You wanted reassurance because you did like him. More than you wanted to admit. You wanted to ignore your differences and all of Rafe’s past shit and just be.  You wanted him to say it. 

Rafe dodged your questions with a response of his own, holding eye contact with you. “You aren’t a hookup, Y/N. Okay? Does that answer your question?”

For a split second you had to process. As if this was information you hadn’t quite gotten a hold of just yet. But there it was. Rafe Cameron actually liked you. He was closed off, sure, but this was his way of saying it. Of saying he would’ve tried harder. How many times had you seen him pick up food at The Wreck when you were there? Especially when you know he knows that it’s part pogue institution. Or out of the corner of your eye when you visited JJ at the Island Club? Or trying to talk to you at last year’s Midsummer's but Kiara kept butting in and pulling you away?

“Yes,” You said, moving a little closer to the boy. “It does.” Your heart was pounding. You did want to have sex with Rafe. Maybe not now. Maybe not even on your third date. But you wanted to. You wanted there to be a third date. You wanted to like him. 

You touched his face and moved on top of his lap, “Kiss me again.” You whispered close enough so only he could hear.

And he did.

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[craftyalmondghostflap]

i need more platonic!pogues x reader fics in my life

Don't get me wrong,the romantic/fluffy/smutty/angsty ones are incredible, but

The pogues friendship is pure gold.

Imagine being a pogue and getting to interact with the them

#outer banks #platonic!pogues #outer banks x reader