#pogues preferences

[featherandferns]

surfs up (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | part of the F.W.B universe, but can be read as a standalone too!

content warning: drug use; mentions/discussions of sex

word count: 4k.

Blurb: you meet JJ's friends. whilst Kiara and Sarah grill you about your boyfriend, John B and Pope are still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that you've managed to tie JJ down.

The mirror could do with a clean. You look past the smudges and marks on the glass to focus on parting your hair with a comb. It’s freshly washed and wet, dripping down your bare back.

“Do you have to do that naked? It’s like torture,” JJ complains from the bed.

You don’t look away from your handy work as you reply. “You know, if we go to war, and you get captured, you’re in for a big shock.”

JJ hurls a pillow towards you and it hits you in the side before you have time to dodge, making you laugh.

“I don’t understand why you’re styling your hair anyway. We’re going surfing,” he says.

“I always style my hair.”

“I don’t get why. I mean, I never style mine."

Turning around to take him in, you reply, sarcastically, “you don’t say.”

JJ’s laid on his back on the bed, naked save from his boxers, eyes closed, his hair pointing in any which way. You know that for him, getting ready will consist of switching into some swim shorts, pulling on one of the many tee-shirts on the floor (that won’t stay tidy, no matter how hard you try), and shoving a cap over his unruly hair. You watch as his hand lazily searches for another pillow to toss, coming up short. A vape gets thrown instead, hitting your thigh.

“Ow.”

“Sorry.”

Looking back to the mirror, you thread the comb through some strands, encouraging them to fall the right side of your head.

“Your hair's just gonna get wet anyway. I don’t know why you’re bother-Oh.”

“What?” you grumble, not liking how his voice has suddenly dropped off. He doesn’t reply. Starts giggling to himself like a schoolgirl. You roll your eyes, looking to him again. “What?”

“You tryn’a look pretty for my friends?”

“Shut up.”

“You are! You wanna look pretty for when you meet them!”

“Shut up!” you repeat, louder. Your face is flushing hot with embarrassment. “I just wanna make a good first impression.”

“Babe, they're so chill, you could walk in half naked and it’d make a good impression. I mean, you basically already did with John B.”

“Please don’t remind me of that,” you whine.

The comb gets dumped on the dresser. JJ’s grinning at you from the bed – you can see his pearly whites reflecting in the mirror – and you somehow refrain from rolling your eyes again. Okay, sure, maybe you are spending a bit more time than usual on how you look and are overthinking how you’re going to dress for this chill-out-surf-day on the beach…But you want JJ’s friends to like you. Think good of you.

JJ hasn’t let up on teasing you. In silent retaliation, when you reach down to collect a tee shirt from the ground, you make a show to bend over forwards, the back of your legs facing him. JJ groans.

“That’s just mean.”

“What is?” you ask innocently, standing upright again, tee shirt in hand.

“You’re not playing fair,” JJ tells you.

Smirking, you open a dresser draw and shove in the tee. There’s no point wasting time folding it, as it’s only going to end up on the bedroom floor again by tomorrow. Opening the second drawer, you dig through your clothes that have gradually accumulated in JJ’s room at the chateau. Digging out a two-piece and a pair of shorts, you move to get dressed.

“Do you think we got time for a quickie?” JJ asks.

You bark out a laugh. “We really don’t.”

“Sure we do. Please.”

“Are you seriously begging me to have a quickie with you-” you glance to the bedside table’s clock, reading the time “-ten minutes after we said we’d meet your friends outside?”

JJ shrugs, sitting up. “I’m very fast.”

“That’s usually not the kind of thing guys brag about,” you remind him.

Your shorts are on now, and you reach around to tie the back of your bikini top.

“I’m serious. In and out, I swear. Two minutes tops.”

“And they say romance is dead.”

“Baby…”

“JJ,” you mimic. “No means no.”

He grunts and flops back on the bed, dramatic. You grab at another tee shirt on the floor (I mean, are these things multiplying?) and toss it at him. It lands on his face and he groans.

“Get dressed. I’m gonna brush my teeth.”

“Boo.”

You laugh to yourself as you walk out his bedroom, into the bathroom. As you brush, you inspect your face for any blemishes, and your hair for any stray strands which have fallen away. There’s a nervous thrum in your chest, over-layed with excitement; similar to the kind you get before a match.

You know JJ’s friends are far from snobbish. They’re perhaps the most easy-going people on earth. But earning their approval weirdly means a lot to you. Maybe it’s because JJ doesn’t seem very close with his family – at least, he never talks about them with you – so this feels akin to meeting the parents. You also have a sense that his friends inform a lot of his thoughts and decisions, and so if you were to slip up, maybe they’d somehow convince him to leave you. Whilst the pair of you have only been official for a couple of weeks, nearing to a month, you already feel how attached you’re becoming to him. How you save your dirtiest jokes for him and make a mental note of any anecdote at work that you know will have him in stiches. And the sex is better than it ever was before.

By the time you’re done in the bathroom, JJ’s pulling on his boots. He’s dressed in an old work muscle-tee and some swim shorts (just as you suspected) and there’s a cap waiting on his bed. The red one. You smile, sit down and pick it up.

“Think this is my favourite one,” you tell him. You inspect the front and read the branding.

JJ takes it from you and places it on your head, pushing down on the lip of the cap so it blocks your vision. Makes you laugh.

“Looks good on you too,” he says. “Not as good as I look on you…”

“We’re not having a quickie, JJ.”

“Damn it. Ah well, worth a shot.”

You take off the cap and hand it back to him, getting up. JJ’s kicking your trainers towards you and you slide them on rather easy, without having to untie the laces. Then the two of you are heading out the house and out the front door. The butterflies that had momentarily let up in the bedroom are back, beating their wings in full force at the sight of his friends gathered around the back of the house. Kiara is sat in the hammock, scrolling on her phone, and Sarah is half-laying at her feet. Pope is lent against the tree. He’s talking to John B, who’s sat on one of the low deckchairs, eyes closed and nodding along. JJ whistles as the two of you approach, catching their attention. When their heads turn to look at you, it makes you think of hawks fixating on prey.

“Yo. Good to go?”

“Only been waiting for ten minutes,” Pope says.

“Wasn’t it Newton who said time is relative?”

“No. That was Einstein, genius,” Pope corrects.

JJ rolls his eyes. “Whatever. We’re here now.”

Sarah’s on her feet, walking over to you, smiling with a hand outstretched. “Hi! I’m Sarah!”

“Hi,” you smile, shaking her hand, introducing yourself. Kiara follows second. Pope nods at you from the tree, introducing himself, and John B gives a small wave.

“We’ve technically already met,” he says, making you laugh through your embarrassment.

“Technically.”

“Come on!” Kiara’s calling, half-way to the twinkie. “We’re missing all the good waves!”

“Who’s got the cooler?”

“Already packed."

"Yeah, we had some time to kill...”

“Boards?”

“Attached to the roof.”

“I mean, can you seriously not see them? You do have eyes, right?”

“Shut it, Pope.”

You tag behind the gang, barely following their constant banter, chuckling at the antics. It seems they have a routine. John B and Sarah climb in the front, the former sitting behind the steering wheel. Kiara slides open the back door and her and Pope climb in first, taking the back seat. JJ offers you a hand as you step in. You take the spot nearest the steering wheel – a strange box-like podium that you imagine is hollow for storage – whilst JJ slides the door shut. He sits near your feet, leant against the wall of the front seats. The engine has spluttered to life and the radio begins to play Marley. The gang gives a few whoops of excitement as you set off towards the beach, away from the marsh.

By the time you pull up to the beach, Pope has explained the theory of the universe; JJ and John B have gotten into a brief, fleeting argument about whether Atlantis could be real; Sarah reminisced about the last time she went surfing; and Kiara has gone on a semi-heated tangent about litter on the beaches. Your cheeks ache from smiling and laughing. Whilst you haven’t fully stuck your neck out yet to join in, you’re content just listening to the gang bicker and beam.

As the engine shuts off, JJ reaches down to squeeze a hand on your shoulder. “Ready to ruin your hair?”

Mirthfully, you roll your eyes. “Can’t look any worse than yours.”

Pope ooo’s at the burn whilst Kiara whistles lowly, grinning.

Then everyone’s getting to their feet, hopping out the car, retrieving gear and supplies to lug down onto the sand. JJ carries his board and the cooler, and you lug the paddle board and a tote bag of snacks. John B and Sarah settle on a good spot, just shy of the dunes, far enough from the water that there’d be plenty of time before the tide comes in to pack up and leave. As everyone starts to dump the stuff, Kiara pulls out a blanket to lay out. A speaker beeps to life and Pope connects. Classics ranging from the sixties through to the noughts begin to play, encapsulating the feeling of summer. It’s hot under the sun but not uncomfortable. There’s a slight breeze that could catch someone out with thinking they’d avoid a sunburn.

“Who’s up for some waves?” JJ asks, pulling off his tee.

“Hell yeah,” John B grins.

“I’m in,” Pope agrees.

Sarah’s situated herself on the rag-tag blanket, pulling out a nail file. “I’m gonna wait a bit longer.”

Kiara is pulling out a joint and lounging back on the sand. It’s answer enough that she’s skipping out for now.

You decide to stay with the girls; wait for the waves to build some more. The guys begin to race towards the water, JJ cracking a joke to John B that earns him a shove. You shake your head as you watch the trio go. Searching around in one of the tote bags, you retrieve a packet of pretzels chips and pull it open.

“Thanks for letting me tag along today,” you say to the two girls.

“What’d you mean tag along?” Kiara frowns.

“We’ve been begging to meet you ever since JJ started hooking up with you,” Sarah tells you.

You chuckle, sceptical. “Wait? Really?”

“Yeah!” the girls chorus, making the three of you laugh.  

“God, that boy is so whipped, it’s gross,” Kiara snorts.

“It’s adorable!” Sarah corrects.

Offering around the bag to the two of them, you frown. “I don’t know about whipped…”

“Girl, you didn’t hear him,” Sarah says, amused. “After you two had been hooking up for like two weeks, he started talking about you all the time. It was hilarious.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, but he’d do it in a way that he didn’t realise he was. Like he’d just randomly have to add little bits and pieces about you into conversations,” Kiara continues.

“Thanks to him we know your favourite sandwich.”

“And your favourite colour.”

“Favourite TV show…”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” you laugh. Your face feels burning hot. Glancing out to the waves, spotting the three guys wading out on their boards, you smile to yourself. You never knew that. “That’s kinda sweet, actually.”

“So…he treating you well?” Kiara asks.

You look back to them and smile, nodding.

“It’s so weird for me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about someone before. I mean, I’ve cared a lot for people, but only like my parents and stuff. And, for most people, you’re born with that sort of affection for them, you know? But with JJ…I just felt it sort of grow until I couldn’t imagine going a day without seeing him.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you cringe. Laughing in spite of yourself, you add, “sorry. That was gross.”

“It was adorable!” Sarah is practically giddy. Kiara and you laugh. “We’ve been waiting for the right girl to get to him.”

“I knew he was a romantic at heart,” Kiara nods in agreement.

“Wait. Is he romantic?” Sarah asks, looking to you once more.

You grab another pretzel and eat it as you think.

“I guess. We’re not really the mushy-shit type couple. But he’s kind of thoughtful. Does these little things for me sometimes. Like, I told him that I used to have chocolate-covered strawberries with my nana on picnics when I was younger, and that they remind me of her. I don’t even know how it came up, really. But the next day he’d made me some as a surprise. It was kinda sweet.”

“No doy – his love language is acts of service,” Kiara shrugs. She flicks on her lighter.

“What’d you mean?”

“Like, he expresses his love and affection for people through actions,” she tells you. “I’m telling you, that’s what it is.”

“What are the other types of love language again?” Sarah wonders.

“Lemme think. There’s gift giving, words of affirmation…”

As Kiara continues to list them off, you look out to the water and mull it over. You catch sight of JJ surfing, dipping in and out of the waves, weightless like a feather, as if he were born and bred on the water. You’d played down the chocolate covered strawberries story. There was more to it then him just doing it out of the blue.

That night, the two of you had decided to watch a movie. An old classic came on – one of the Monroe films – and you went into this random spiel about how your nana used to be the biggest Monroe fan. That went into JJ asking about your family, and you nana, and you telling the chocolate strawberries story. You got a little tearful at the memory, knowing that you wouldn’t have a moment like that with her again, and JJ made a point to tell an embarrassing story from middle school gym to cheer you up. The night had gone on and you didn’t think much more of it. The next day, JJ texted you to meet him in the marsh. When you arrived, there was a blanket laid out and some snacks and drinks (mostly beer) laid out. He seemed somewhat embarrassed, as if worried it was too much. The two of you hadn’t really done an official date: mostly movie-nights and sometimes grabbing lunch purely out of hunger. But you’d never had someone do something like that for you. Then, bashful, he'd opened up a Tupperware and held it out to you, offering you a chocolate covered strawberry. Come to think, it might have been the most romantic thing anybody had ever done for you.

But telling the girls all of that felt like you might take something away from the memory. You knew JJ liked his reputation. You understood, having one of your own somewhat. The fact that he had done it without being prompted, out of the kindness of his heart and his feelings for you…It made you feel special and wanted. And what other feeling do humans crave from another, other than that? No. You’ll keep those details to yourself. They can just know about the strawberries.

“No, no, John B’s definitely a words of affirmation sort,” Sarah is saying pointedly.

Kiara’s shaking her head in disagreement. “Quality time, all the way.”

“Quality time’s Pope’s thing,” the blonde argues.

“He’s surprisingly really into words of affirmation, in his awkward Pope-ish way,” Kiara informs, taking a drag.

“Wait, I’m confused. Are you and Pope a thing?” you can’t help but ask Kiara.

She looks away from both you and Sarah as she takes another hit. The smell of weed is gradually building. “Not exactly.”

“That’s not a no,” Sarah grins, teasingly.

“And it’s not a yes,” she affirms, shooting a glare. It softens, as she struggles to find her words. “It’s a…”

“Complicated?” you offer.

She smiles at you, grateful. “Yeah. 'Complicated’.”

“I know complicated,” you chuckle. “Used to be the queen of complicated.”

“You mean like before you and JJ were official?” Sarah wonders.

You nod. Resting back on your bent arms, you sigh.

“It was so hard to tell where we stood sometimes. And whenever I’d try and start up a conversation about it, he’d get all weird and defensive and stuff.”

“Yep. That sounds like JJ,” Kiara chuckles, a little sadly.

“For the record,” Sarah chimes in. “I knew he liked you from the first time he got with you.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yeah. He just seemed lighter. Happier.”

“Sex does that to people,” you chuckle, brushing it off.

“No, I’m telling you. He was a goner from the start.”

“Did you forget the sandwich-colour-TV-show story?”

You laugh, waving them away. “I’m just pretty decent in bed, is all.”

“No kidding. You know what JJ says right?”

“Huh?”

“You don’t know!?”

“What? What don’t I know?” you worry, sitting up again.

Kiara and Sarah are making faces at each other, laughing. You confusion twists into anxiety that eases the moment Sarah looks at you again.

“Okay, okay, so we’re hanging out at the chateau one night, right?” she begins.

“And JJ’s drunk as a skunk, okay? Like really wasted.”

“And high.”

“Yeah, and high,” Kiara nods, chuckling at the memory. “So John B asks about who the girl he accidentally bumped into the hallway was, the other night.”

You throw your face into your hands with a groan. Are you ever going to live that down?

“Well, at first JJ tries to act all casual. Says you’re this side-chick he’s seeing,” Sarah continues.

“But for some reason, John B thinks that’s not the whole truth. So he starts pushing at him.”

“Eventually it all just kicks off until JJ lets slip that you’re the best sex he’s ever had,” Sarah finishes, smirking at you, almost like she’s proud.

You’re human. The indirect compliment goes straight to your head and makes it grow about ten times in size. Fighting and failing to hold off a grin, you check you heard them right.

“Really?”

The two girls nod enthusiastically.

“And, of course, we’ve never let him live it down,” Kiara smiles, sweet like a pageant queen.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you chuckle to yourself. This whole time, with his stupid little game of ‘best you’ve ever had?’ that he kicks up nearly every time the two of you hook-up, came from a part of him wondering if it was as good for you as it was for him. If he’s alone in feeling that way.

“I came up with the theory – which, proved to correct, might I add? – that the reason why the sex was so good is cause he had feelings for you,” Sarah proudly proclaims.

Kiara rolls her eyes as she says, “But you know JJ--”

The three of you chorus through a laugh: “deny, deny, deny.”

With that, all three of you are in hysterics. Your ribs begin to hurt from laughter. As you revel in the wonderful pain, you wonder if you’ve ever felt so at ease in your life before. It wasn’t that you didn’t have friends, but you didn’t have a group of them like this. Just people here and there who you could vent to and grab coffee with and such. But these girls liked you, and they found you funny, and they cared about what you had to say. Tied in with the added benefit of having JJ, everything felt like it was aligning just as it should.

Flopping back onto the towel, you smile at the afternoon sky. No clouds and no birds. Just endless, stretching blue.

“He’s the best sex I’ve ever had too,” you quietly confess.

The girls’ lingering giggles pause before kicking up, tenfold.

“Wait? Really?”

“Yeah,” you grin, nodding. He was. Easily. “But you tell him that, and I’ll deny it. I like that he doesn’t really know. Only has a hunch.”

“Oh yeah,” Kiara affirms. “We can’t ever give guys the satisfaction of thinking they’re actually good in bed.”

“It’s like the one thing we have,” Sarah winks.

The three of you collapse into giggles again.

~*~*~*~*~*

“What’d you think they’re talking about?” Pope asks, looking out to the shore at the girls.

The three guys are taking a moment to rest, sitting on their boards, legs dangling in the water. JJ can see you, lying on your back, basking in the sun. Sometimes your combined laughter is loud enough to travel out to the water. He feels like he can make out your distinct giggle easily.

“School maybe?” Pope continues to wonder.

“Dude, they’re one hundred percent talking about us,” JJ declares. “I bet my board on it.”

“You think so?”

“JJ’s right,” John B sighs, nodding. “I feel like Sarah and Kie have been dying to grill your girl for ages.”

JJ’s heart feels like it skips at beat at the phrase 'your girl. He never thought he’d hear someone say that to him. Never thought it would make him so happy to hear it. Huh.

“It’s weird seeing you in a relationship,” Pope says, as if reading his mind.

JJ frowns. “What? Like it’s hard to picture someone wanting to date me?”

“No, you moron. Hard to picture you settling for one girl. Honestly, I was worried you had nymphomania or something."

“Nympha-who-now?”

“It’s an addiction to sex,” Pope clarifies impatiently.

JJ grins, smug. “I mean, can’t say that I don’t have that.”

“JJ. Gross.”

“What? Like it’s a secret or something? You’re just jealous, Pope. Gotta get your dick wet,” JJ shrugs.

Now John B’s cringing. “Gross, JJ.”

“So conservative,” he jests, lying back on his board. Clasping his hands over his bare stomach that’s beginning to dry under the rays, he gazes up at the clear sky. “My girl treats me good. Not gonna apologise for bragging about it.”

“But you do you gotta do it in such a crude way?” Pope almost whines. JJ flips him off half-arsed.

“Never thought I’d see the day when JJ was pussy-whipped, but here I sit,” John B says. JJ flips him off too for good measure, then lets both arms flop back onto his stomach.

There’s your laugh again. Makes him smile.

“You guys like her though, right?” he can’t help but ask, after a moment of quiet. Nothing but the waves licking at the boards.  

“Yeah, man,” John B says.

“Course,” Pope seconds. “I think she’s a good match for you. And your out-of-control libido.”

“Pope, I swear to God, you say one more million-dollar-word and I’ll drown you.”

~*~*~*~*~*

As the afternoon turns to dusk, the beach day continues. The guys return to land and the girls take the boards out on the waves. You revive your chats from the beach out on the water, drifting into new topics outside of boys: like boxing and school and work and activism. By the time you’re walking back onto the shore, the boys have started up a fire. JJ offers you a sip of his beer as you ditch your board. You smile and accept, moving to sit between his legs. He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you against him, and takes the bottle back to have another swig. Sarah settles with John B, and Kiara lounges back, her feet placed on Pope’s lap.

The music lulls out well-known hits (Come on Eileen, Build Me Up Buttercup, and the never-ending American Pie) and you bask in the warmth of the embers from the fire, drying off any speck of salt water. The bottle keeps getting handed back and forth between you and JJ, and eventually a joint joins the mix. The conversation turns easy, light-hearted jokes enhanced by the booze and weed, making everyone chuckle. Sighing, you lean your head back against JJ’s collarbones, looking up at him. He glances down at you, smiles, places a quick kiss on your lips. When his friends gently heckle the two of you, neither of you respond. As he pulls away, JJ rolls his eyes at their antics. Closing your eyes, quietly chuckling at something Pope says, you enjoy the wonderfulness of summer and your boyfriend, never wanting either thing to end.

#jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj fic #jj maybank fic #pogues #pogues fic #pogues preferences #outer banks #the outer banks #outer banks fic #outerbanks #outerbanks fic #obx #obx fic #obx preference #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj x fem!reader #jj fluff #jj maybank fluff #platonic!pogues x reader #platonic pogues fic

[pappydaddy]

i'm yours (j.m.)

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader *cis!female anatomical parts mentioned

requested by another lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

synopsis: not having labels muddles things up. luckily, they don't need labels to know they are mad about each other. though, labels might not hurt - might even save some noses.

taglist: @luvhann | @thelakespoets  | @lonely-simp | @smarie7543| @tenaciousperfectionunknown | @k-k0129 | @maybankslover*line through you user means i could not tag you lovelies!

warnings: spicy, spicy, spicy. dry humping. dirty. reader is horny. blood. broken nose. punching. fluff (if you squint) 18+ please and thank you. characters are aged up as per usual!

navigation | masterlist | taglist sign-up

- not my gif -

 It was as if the stars aligned just the right way, because there she stood, the girl that had been consuming JJ’s mind twenty-four-seven lately. The moonlight rained down on her like a glowing spotlight, pointing her out to him as if he needed any help finding her in a crowd. And then, the stars must have shifted because as the dancing crowd moved just right, it revealed someone unpleasant standing beside her - talking her ear off, Topper. With his stupid shorts and polo top matched with his stupid boat shoes. 

  Bitterness swirled in JJ’s stomach as his face twisted into a scowl, his heart lurched, almost as if it wanted to jump out of his chest and strangle Topper. He knew what her opinion on Topper and other Kooks were - she hated him, but she doesn’t like making scenes so she suffers through conversations. She was too nice (or shy, he wasn’t too sure which yet) to tell him to piss off, but JJ wasn’t. However, something did hold him back. They weren’t official yet. And that was completely on him. He was the one dragging his feet on this one, but now he realized his mistake. 

  He’s taken it slow with her. She was too perfect and too innocent for him, so he was scared of either ruining her and her life or scaring her off with all of his baggage. Her friend’s opinions of him didn’t help his self-doubt. He knew they hated him. He knew they were telling her to move on, to forget him. But she didn’t listen. Even if there wasn’t a label, it was clear to both of them that this thing was more than just fooling around. They had feelings for each other. It was obvious when he kissed her and her first reaction is always to blush or do that cute little panicked hand flap as if she was surprised he would kiss her before her body melted into him.

  “Screw it.” JJ’s eyes zeroed in on Topper as he inched closer to Y/N, obviously flirting despite Y/N clearly wanting out of the situation. He was a large guy, standing at six feet and having a decent amount of muscle, so it didn’t surprise him when he reached the pair quickly, but it did surprise him that he reached them in what felt like five seconds - he stumbled a bit, feeling like he was transported there instead of walking. 

  Y/N spotted him first, those beautiful eyes JJ loved looking into so much, catching his and widening as if asking him for help, which was exactly what he planned to do. “What do you want, Pogue?” Topper’s snarl made JJ look over at him, blue eyes cold and hard, as if he was aiming to kill him. 

  “I was coming over here to ask what the hell you’re doing flirting with someone who is clearly not yours to flirt with.” JJ squared his shoulders, stepping up to Topper, showing the slight but noticeable height difference between them when JJ pulls to his full height. Y/N’s mouth fell open, eyes watching JJ as he puffed his chest out slightly. ‘Hot damn!’ She thought, eyes flicking all over his body before looking back at the tense stare off. 

  “Last I checked, she was single.” Topper gestured toward Y/N, shooting her a wink, but JJ shifted to hide her from him, scoffing at this. 

  “Oh, news to me, because I don’t think what we’ve been doing screams ‘just friends’,” JJ put air quotes around the phrase, looking back at her with his jaw set in a way that made her want to drop to her knees right there. “What do you think, Sweets?” He asked her, his voice deep and dark, almost as if it was strained. The nickname. The voice. The look. The protectiveness. It all went right between her legs. 

  “Definitely not.” She confirmed, bottom lip being sucked between her teeth as she crossed her legs as discreetly as she could while standing, squeezing. She had to admit, she was already hot and bothered from watching from across the party all night, and now it was like someone opened the floodgates. She could jump him right then and there, but Topper just won’t let go. 

  “Still single, man,” Topper shook his head with his stupid smirk, making JJ whirl his head back around at such a rate it startled both Y/N and Topper. For a moment, Y/N was concerned that he had hurt his neck, but didn’t realize since he was hyped up on a mix of one beer, testosterone, and adrenaline. “She’s fair game for the rest of us-” 

  Topper didn’t get to finish his sentence before JJ’s fist met his nose, a sickening crack sounding as a loudly hissed ‘Fuck!’ left Topper’s mouth, his hands flying up to his nose which must have been broken from the amount of pain, blood, and the sound. “Hey, you saw he was disrespecting her, right?” JJ looked over to the group of people who were standing around, trying not to look like they were listening from the jump. 

  They all nodded furiously. “One of you put your information in my phone.” Y/N pulled her phone out, unlocking it and opening contacts, handing it to the group. After graduating, JJ learned his lesson - always have a witness or two to confirm his story (true or not). Y/N usually was the one who got a witness' contact information to keep in case they needed it. With Topper, they would definitely need it, he’s pressed charges before. 

  Glancing over at Topper, she saw a mass of people around him, someone holding their discarded shirt to his nose to stem the bleeding. Over the balled up fabric, he was glaring at the two of them, saying something but they couldn’t hear through the shirt and over the loud nose. Eyes flicking over to JJ, she looked up at him, his back still turned towards her, heaving. His fists were still clenched, almost as if he was ready for someone to come try to avenge Topper or Topper to come flying at them. 

  “Here you go, we put her number in.” A shaky voice pulled her eyes away from JJ. A boy held her phone out to her, his hand and whole body shaking slightly, eyes pleading with her to take the phone before JJ turned around. He was scared of JJ. He was intimidating, probably, she assumed since all she saw was a guy with such a large heart and an urge to protect anything he cares about with all his might. 

  “Thank you,” She took the phone, locking and pocketing it. “JJ, we should leave.” She shuffled the rest of the way over to JJ, her toes getting buried in the sand despite her sandals. For the first time since the punch, JJ looked over at her as she gripped his arm. As soon as his eyes met hers, they softened, but seemed to get darker. His chest rested, no longer heaving, and his fists relaxed, one arm snaking around her waist to pull her against him. 

____

  When she suggested they leave, she was more concerned about the possibility of cops showing up to bust the party since there was a strong possibility of someone snitching after that punch was thrown. She didn’t even think this could happen. She didn’t think he would want to. Part of her even thought he would be mad that she let Topper flirt with her, but as he muttered into her neck not long ago, he knew she didn’t want him. Didn’t want him the way she wanted JJ. Didn’t want him talking to her. Didn’t want him anywhere near her. He knew that.  

  Really, they barely even left the party since they managed to make it to the Twinkie and that was as far as they went. In all fairness, JJ was the one who brought it since everyone else had drives already. So the van was all theirs according to him. Imagine her shock when JJ’s lips landed on hers, lips moving against hers with such passion she kind of thought it was a dream. She had expected a fight. Maybe that was her own messed up trauma coming forth, but she least expected to have his tongue in her mouth and his hands roaming around her body. 

   She hummed into his mouth as he gently started to guide her down on her back. ‘God bless the Twinkie’s lack of seats.’ She thought once her back met the floor of the van, JJ’s weight shifting as he settled between her legs, his body pressing against her in just the right way. She could feel everything. From the heat radiating off of him to every single dip and ridge of his muscled abdomen. 

  Her eyes opened when JJ pulled his mouth away, catching a glimpse of the dark interior. JJ had parked in a rather secluded spot. With trees hanging over the van, all planted in a row behind the van, they were perfectly hidden. A bit of moonlight slipped through the leaves, illuminated the inside so softly. Her eyes shifted, looking at JJ’s body pressed against her. The way the soft lighting surrounded him, it made him look pure and soft - just like she always pictured him. “You got quiet,” JJ muttered against her skin as he kissed along her neck and shoulders. “What’s going on in there?” He asked, pulling away to look at her for a moment. 

  A ray of moonlight hit his eyes, making them sparkle like two ocean blue gems. “Just thinking about how beautiful you are.” She uttered, her hands sliding up from where they rested on his sides to cup his face. Pulling his lips back to hers, he let her lead the kiss. Soft. Loving. Tender. JJ felt like they were in one of those romance movies she loves to watch. She took a deep breath in, lips pulling back only enough to do so as if she was trying to breath him in. 

   Eyes fluttering open again, her eyes stared up at him - big and darkened with want and need. Looking into those eyes was all it took for JJ to snap. Instantly, his lips were on hers again, but only for a moment until they trailed down to the spot he knew so well - sucking. Harshly. 

  Y/N’s eyes nearly rolled back into her head, mouth opening and head falling back as she moaned. She always responded like that and JJ knew it. She also knew he knew by the feeling of his smirk against her now widely exposed neck. “JJ, careful-“ She panted, back arching off the floor as he slid his hands under her, dragging against the smooth skin of her back. “What if-“ As his hands hit the thin strap resting on her back that was holding her bikini closed, it was like she couldn’t speak in full sentences. “Someone sees the mark.” 

  She warned, but she knew it was futile since his attack seemed to have shifted from that spot and was now inching down to her collarbones as he pulled on the string of her bathing suit. “So what,” He muttered against her skin, the vibrations tickling her slightly but she was too turned on to pay anything but the need for friction any mind. “That way everyone will know you’re mine and I’m yours.” 

  His words went right to two places. Her heart, but mostly her vagina. Maybe like one percent to the heart. More will go later, after he rails her in the back of his best friend's van. “I’m yours, JJ. In every way.” 

  Too overcome with the need for some sort of relief, her hips rolled against JJ’s. A synchronous moan filled the air. She didn’t stop the movement, making JJ still his merciless teasing. She wanted to open her eyes to look at him, to see why he was frozen as she continued to rub herself against his still body. Thankfully, he was a strong guy with good endurance so even with her trapped under him, she could rub against him and get herself off. She was well on her merry way to doing just that. 

  Moans spilling out from both of them, her movements quickened and became sloppier. She was squirming now, face screwed up. Before she met JJ, she was sure this was an orgasm. She couldn’t understand how it could get any better than this, but then JJ showed her just what she was missing and she was proven wrong. 

  That’s why she sobbed when one of JJ’s hands freed themselves from where they had a death grip on her bathing suit and gripped her hip, stopping her movements. “JJ!” She cried desperately, panting as she tried to roll her hips again. 

  “Gorgeous, if you keep doing that, this is gonna be over way too quick, and neither of us want that.” He practically growled and she gasped. Partially from the shock that ran through her, feeding her beating heart and also feeding her pooling wetness. Also from the fact that with a yank of his hand her top was untied and with another, her top was off and thrown elsewhere. “Now, let me savor everything my girlfriend has to offer.” His voice was deep, in a dark and an arousing way. 

  But what really got her was how his blue eyes remained locked with hers as he dragged his lips down her body. A trail of goosebumps and tingles were left, marking the path he took. From the base of her throat, down the valley of her breasts (where there was a brief pit stop to nip and suck - knowing she loved it), down her stomach, and stopping at the top of her jean shorts.    Their eye contact was unbreakable and somehow he managed to make it a form of sexual teasing. He didn’t even look as he unbuttoned her shorts, pulling them and her bathing suit bottoms down together. Those too were thrown carelessly. He only broke their eye contact for a second, if you could even count it as a full second, to look down at her bare core. “My girlfriend is all sprawled out here looking like a whole-ass buffet. All you can eat, I hope.” He winked before dipping down, hands pushing her legs apart. The last thing she saw was that damn smirk before his lips disappeared and she gasped out a sudden moan. Eyes closing, legs widening before trying to snap shut around his head (his hands already placed to stop her), and her back arching off the floor with her head flying back.

#pappydaddy #pappydaddy's 800 follower celebration #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank angst #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank smut #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank oneshots #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank #jj maybank preference #jj maybank preferences #jj maybank x kook!reader #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank obx #jj obx imagine #jj obx fic #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fics #obx jj #jj outer banks #outer banks #obx3 #obx fic #obx2

[outerbanksacc]

❁OBX PREFERENCES❁ - Typical snaps they send... Part 1 (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1236636693-%E2%9D%81obx-preferences%E2%9D%81-typical-snaps-they-send-part-1?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=EmmaCarreras9&wp_originator=MMAMaBMUYFvGuWPU9jXt0RCyUiMvOui745lQIfpJfXMnY4iEw2eTIlN6BsXcZv2rjlKaB%2FWjfk%2BobI%2F3i5YJagIuZALSUPhUNXwsMljzTijWKfvpm7Mi9PQAEhSlfnai Preferences for the following characters from Outer Banks: ❁John B Routledge ❁JJ Maybank ❁Pope Heyward ❁Topper Thornton ❁Rafe Cameron ❁Sarah Cameron

#fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #imagine #jjmaybank #johnbroutledge #kiaracarrera #kook #netflix #netflixoriginal #obx #outerbanks #pogue #popeheyward #preference #preferences #rafecameron #readerinsert #romance #romancefanfiction #sarahcameron #summer #teenromance #teens #topperthornton #books #wattpad #amreading

[rafeandonlyrafe]

deputy's daughter

words: 1.6k

warnings: 18+ only!, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pull out method, caught

“rafe!” you hiss as he makes his way into your room through his preferred method of the window. “my dad is going to kill you!”

“is he home?” he questions. he didn't see the cop car sitting in your driveway, which is why he scaled the lattice to sneak inside.

“no, but he's gonna be home any minute now!” you keep your voice quiet despite the rest of the house being empty.

“let me kiss you until he gets home then.” rafe says, cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a heated kiss. you know it's never just a kiss with him, but you can't help but open your lips for his adventurous tongue, gripping his shirt to pull him in closer.

rafe smirks against your mouth. he could have texted you asking you to let him, but that would have taken all the fun out of it. 

“you have to leave as soon as my dad gets home.” you scold him as rafe lays you back on your bed. 

“i know you can’t keep quiet.” rafe chuckles, hand groping at your tits through your thin pajama shirt. thankfully the flood lights above the garage are motion sensored, and with your open window they'll alert you when your dad gets home.

“if only deputy shoupe knew what i was doing to his little angel of a daughter.” rafe chuckles as you send him a glare, tugging at his shirt in a silent plea for him to take it off.

“shut up, cameron. he likes you anyways.” you roll your eyes. now if it was a pogue in your bed, that would be a whole different story. 

“mhm.” rafe nods, tugging your shirt up, revealing your bare chest. “im just so charming. all the parents love me.”

“all?” you raise your eyebrows, taking your shirt the rest of the way off, flinging it across the room. “you mean you do this with other girls.”

“not anymore.” rafe shakes his head, mouth dropping to your nipple, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. “you know they don't compare to that delicious pussy, baby.”

you tsk. “it's a shame you don't have time to eat it then.” 

rafe sighs dramatically, like it physically hurts him to not be able to give you head, to let his tongue drag through your folds and slurp up your juices.

“just a quick taste then ill fuck you, promise.” rafe tugs your pajama shorts down, knowing you never wear underwear just for him as he buries his face between your legs, forcing your thighs apart as his greedy mouth explores your pussy.

“delicious, baby.” rafe groans, voice vibrating against your skin. “my favorite meal.” he continues for only a moment longer, flicking his tongue against your entrance before moving up to press a wet kiss to your clit, making you moan out, eyes flickering to your window, making sure you somehow didn't miss the floodlights turning on.

rafe stands up with a lick of his lips, quickly undressing himself until he's just as bare as you are.

“condom?” he asks, forgetting to put one in his pocket, so caught up with getting over to your house on time, even running from his car to your yard, always parking a block away to not cause suspicion.

“fuck, you didn't bring one?” you groan, turning towards your bedside table. you squint in the low light as you scrounge through the drawer, but you know that you used the last one with rafe a week ago.

“just…” you sigh, pressing your forehead into the bed. “just pull out, okay?”

“promise.” rafe nods, eyes on your ass like they have been since you first turned onto your stomach, only half listening to what you're saying, but glad that you're still letting him fuck you.

rafe kneels over your legs before you can move back to your front or rise to your hands and knees. “stay like that.” he hums, gripping his cock and pushing it between your thighs, rubbing the head through your slick.

“fuck, you're so hot.” rafe groans as you reach behind your back, pulling your ass apart to show off both of your holes. “gonna let me play with this one one day?” rafe hums, his tip sliding past your entrance to your other hole, tapping against it.

“maybe.” you smirk. but certainly not today, not when you're already playing on limited time.

rafe slides back down to your cunt, pushing in as he leans forward, covering your body with his own. one hand keeps him held up, stopping from putting his complete weight on you, while the other grips your ass.

“fuck.” rafe groans out, his voice sounding more hoarse than usual. “you feel so good with nothing in between us.”

you moan as well as rafe bottoms out, pushing as far in as your pussy allows. he sits still, allowing you to adjust, to feel every ridge and vein of his cock. he goes from giving you nothing to pounding into you in an instant, the sound of your skin slapping together filling the room.

rafe gives a glance at the window. lights still off. he smirks down at you, your hands now gripping into the bedsheets as he plows into you from behind, using the full force of his hips with every thrust.

“m-more.” you mewl out, body shuddering as rafe manages to go deeper with a tilt of his hips, along with you arching your back and bringing your ass up further into the air.

you let out loud groans with every thrust that's now hitting your sweet spot, pushing your orgasm quickly to the surface.

“fuck baby, you're so tight.” rafe grunts out. “don't know how much longer i can last.”

“re-remember to pull out.” you manage to hum out, even though you wish you could feel him fill you up, you're not on birth control and are already taking a risk with having sex at all.

“ass or tits?” rafe questions. 

“ass.” you shake your hips from side to side, making rafe let out a loud curse, pulling out sooner than he'd like to to jack himself off, spilling almost instantly over your ass and back, spreading long ropes of cum along your skin.

rafe is quick to grab a tissue and clean you off, as much as he likes seeing you covered in his cum, he's got other things to focus on.

just as he's about to flip you over to eat you out, the lights outside turn on.

“fuck!” you curse, knowing you have seconds before your dad enters the house. you turn over to look at rafe. you gotta get out.”

“you didn't cum yet.” rafe shakes his head, body covering you again, pressing you back down into the plush mattress. “im not leaving without giving you at least one orgasm.”

“you're gonna be leaving with a bullet in your chest if my dad catches you!” you hiss out.

“itll be worth it.” rafe manages to force his hand underneath you, finding your clit with ease as he rubs his fingers between your folds. 

“y/n!” your dads voice calls out. you usually greet him downstairs, staying locked in your room is bound to cause suspicion.

“rafe.” you moan out quietly. “please, stop.” you can barely keep yourself from screaming out as his fingers just move faster, his weight pressing down on you too much to move.

“babygirl?” shoupe calls out, his loud footsteps marching up the stairs.

“i-in my room!” you call out.

“you okay?” he asks, now right outside your door. you have to cover your mouth as rafe flicks your clit. you take a deep breath before answering.

“yeah, fine!” your voice wobbles a little, something you know your dad notices. “just period cramps!”

“can i get you some midol?” he questions, and you know his ear is pressed to the door, listening for any signs that something is amiss as rafe rubs you quicker, refusing to slow down, needing to get an orgasm out of you.

“already took some!” you call out, having to press your face into your mattress as you cum, body shaking as rafe smirks above you, hearing your muffled noises. “i think im just gonna go to bed early.” you say as soon as you recover.

“alright, goodnight sweetheart.” 

rafe finally allows you to flip over, lifting himself to lay on his side next to you. you raise your eyebrows and hold your finger to your lips, signaling rafe to be quiet until you hear your father's footsteps move down the hallway.

“rafe, you almost got us caught!” you whisper, giving him a shove on the shoulder, only to be met by a proud smile on his face.

“had to get you off, princess, otherwise it wouldn't be fair.” rafe leans forward to plant a kiss on your lips, feeling the way you melt against him.

“am i forgiven?” he questions.

“yeah, just get out.” you giggle quietly. you think your dad bought your explanation, but you can never be too sure.

rafe dresses quickly, throwing your pajamas onto the bed so you can also get decent.

“gotta give you one more kiss.” he leans over your bed to give you a sweet kiss, lips moving gently against each others.

“okay, now go.” you shoo rafe out, heading to the window now that your legs feel a bit more stable, watching him climb down the lattice. he gives you a wave once his feet hit the concrete, only for his entire body to freeze when the side door opens up, your dad stepping out into the light.

“rafe cameron, im going to kill you!”

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[aemvnd]

𝓇.cameron. ┆ blaze.

◟ ㅤᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁.﹒ a lil late. ‹3 but happy 𝟒/𝟐𝟎 to the angels who celebrate. !!! 🍃♡ྀི also... i'm high as shit rn so sry for any typos—i'll fix 'em later, mwa! 𝓍𝑜𝓍𝑜.

jus' thinkin' abt rafe celebrating 4/20 with his girl . <3

you're with your boyfriend that's still dealing at the time, some marijuana and some coke on the low, and you already know you're getting your little stash for free. rafe spends the last three days making sure he had the best, richest, and highest quality product of weed being shipped for his girl to smoke just in time for 4/20.

typically, rafe didn't let his girl consume any type of drug, even marijuana, and even the lightest of those fruity cocktails you love so much at the country club are just enough to get you drunk after only one or two, so he knows even with 4/20 quickly approaching, he's still going to keep a protective, and firm eye on you at all times.

especially now, since rafe is supposed to be inviting a few of his friends over at tannyhill since rafe's father and his new wife, rose, are on some far, far away vacation, which rafe couldn't give less of a fuck about, preferring to have tannyhill all to himself besides his little sisters, but he doesn't bother with them as much as he used to once he was in a serious relationship with you.

rafe even promised you that he would stop antagonizing the pogues, but only if they disrespect me first, he'd said in return, rather sulkily and reluctant, but he wanted to be a good boyfriend for you and he knew you didn't like violence of any kind.

once 4/20 finally came, you were already high as a cloud come noon, one of rafe's arms wrapped snuggly around your shoulders, tannyhill buzzing with a few people, but rafe doesn't really care about them right now, especially now with the way you're being all sweet and whiny for rafe's attention, acting all submissive and needy and breedable for your daddy—which, of course, rafe didn't mind at all, he liked you like this the most, so sweetly obedient and paying all of your attention on him and only him.

"yeah, princess? y'need somethin', hm?" he breathes teasingly into your ear, watching as your pouty, glossy lips (that tasted like cotton candy) smacked together noisily, making rafe smirk and his head was already quickly processing that you most likely needed a new refreshment.

without a care in the world about who was watching him and his girl, with you already in his lap comfortably, like the princess he always claims you are, sitting prettily and smiling dreamily, doe-like eyes heavy and red, long eyelashes fluttering slowly like a kitten, both freshly done and fluffy and making you appear like a perfect little doll, hanging all over your man as his big hands fondle your asscheeks under your pretty, little babydoll pink miniskirt that was covered with a layer of pretty white lace—my angel, rafe had complimented you earlier, making you all shy and bashful, like you usually were around your boyfriend.

"a'ight, baby… lemme − lemme go get you another water, and then we'll spark up again, yea?" rafe murmurs against your ear, his breath hot and smelling mostly of the overly intoxicating fragrance of the weed you'd all been taking turns taking hits from, mostly from fat blunts and the occasional little joint for the past few hours.

instantly, you breathily mewl in protest and hold onto your boyfriend tighter, arms wrapping around his neck, clinging to him like a little girl that clings to their father.

softly, rafe breathes a light, amused little chuckle, used to your neediness, but knowing you're being extra clingy right now due to the drug and the tiny, few sips of those fruity, alcoholic seltzers that taste like the sweetest thing you can imagine, something that rafe wrinkles his nose at every time he watches you drink them, but pretends to like them for your sake, though he prefers something… stronger.

usually, if it wasn't a special occasion, rafe would bring you to an empty bedroom in whichever house-party he usually brings you along to, with you hanging tightly (and anxiously) onto your boyfriend's arm, letting him lead you upstairs with a large, possessive hand on your lower back, practically resting on your plump, perky little ass, guiding you to some random room to make out for a bit.

and then, after rafe gets bored of just messily making out with you, he fucks your brains out until you're all 'babied brained'—as rafe has occasionally called it, though was actually subspace, but rafe wasn't that thoroughly educated, and again, didn't give a fuck about searching up what it meant when he fucks his girlfriend senseless and within an inch of her life.

of course, rafe could search it up, but it didn't truly interest him and he thought it was just normal, and besides, he already knew you enjoyed being coddled by him and doted on by him after sex, so he figured he didn't need to worry too much—plus, even if he didn't want to admit it, it was a win-win situation for the kook prince, with rafe needing to always hold onto some part of you, especially after being intimate together.

and again, rafe didn't mind your clinginess, practically relishing in it, his ego growing more and more the more he realized how codependent you were becoming on him.

back in the present, rafe feels you begin pressing glossy, sticky kisses all over the side of his face, leading down to his already marked-up neck, causing him to let out a soft, low grunt of frustration and arousal.

"baby," rafe gently chastises, already knowing your sparkly, clear lipgloss with the light undertone of pastel pink—and yes, you always give rafe a haul of every makeup product you buy, using his money, of course—but again, rafe doesn't mind, enjoying the fact that his obedient little princess was becoming so dependent on him for everything, always needing him for something, and rafe... rafe doesn't care what you need from him, if it's something serious or dumb, he'll be there within minutes.

however, in rafe's mind, it's as long as you remember that rafe is your man and you don't need to be calling anyone else for help—that's what rafe was there for, to take care of you and fuck your pretty little pussy, and someday, perhaps sooner rather than later, rafe will pump a large, scorching load into you, deep inside of your womb… that way, you'll never be able to leave him, rafe thinks.

rafe breathes out a small sigh, his thick, muscular arms still wrapped around you, possessively and obsessively, wanting to keep you as close as possibly—meanwhile, he starts his own sloppy, passionate kisses against your lips, smearing your pretty lipgloss against his own lips, tasting how sweet you are, but once again, rafe doesn't give fuck, and he won't give a fuck when you complain to him that you have to reapply your lipgloss again, even though you do so every five minutes anyways.

"lemme jus' go get you another water, sweetcheeks," rafe coos against your lips, suppressing a smile at your instant pout, but quietly observes as you silently and simply crawl off of his lap, sitting to the side of him on one of the usual balcony outdoor furniture sofa's, it was a wooden wicker sofa with plush, probably thousands of dollars worth of cushions that rafe dragged you along to sit with him, but you didn't care, impatiently waiting for your boyfriend to come back to you.

it barely takes five minutes for rafe to return back to you, but there you sit, scrolling through your phone with a cute, bored pout on your plump lips, a fresh coat of your sugary lipgloss already applied, making your lips look extra kissable.

swiftly, rafe takes his seat back down next to you, opening the fresh water bottle for you, a hand going to your lower back casually, while his free hand guides the water up to your mouth, not even having to say anything, already watching as you perk up a bit and lean forward, taking a few eager sips, giving your boyfriend a grateful smile once he sets the water down beside himself when you finish.

with long, deft fingers, and a gorgeous, shiny golden ring decorating his index finger with the cameron family's symbol, rafe easily pulls out a freshly rolled, thickly stuffed blunt from behind his ear, already pulling out a lighter and swiftly lighting the end of it, curling one of his large, calloused hands around the newly burning tip so the spring breeze wouldn't blow out the cherry of the freshly rolled blunt.

"where'd you get that?" you hum curiously, a dreamy, pretty smile curling across your freshly coated glossy lips, already pressing yourself back into rafe's side, one of his thick, tanned arms thrown over your shoulders, keeping you close against him as he stuffs the lighter into the pair of his typical black nike shorts he'd been wearing since the weather has been warm and beautiful, summer coming quicker than you'd thought.

"rolled this f'us when i went inside to grab you a fresh water," rafe explains nonchalantly, still high off of the weed, but also the few bumps of coke he snorted just minutes ago, grabbing his girl his personal stash of the best quality of weed he had, saving it for you, knowing you were gonna beg him to let you smoke once 4/20 came—and strangely, the longer he'd been around you, and the fact that you two have been dating for a few months, the oldest cameron sibling was growing more and more attached to you as time passed, giving nearly into your every whim, no matter your request.

unless, of course, your request had something to do without him.

"you wanna shotgun this with me, baby?" rafe purrs lazily, taking a long hit of the cherry flavored blunt that was currently between his soft, pink lips, still slightly sticky from your previous kisses.

you let out a small, happy noise of agreement, nodding your head gently as you wrap both of your arms around rafe's non-dominant arm, feeling his muscles rippling every time he moved to be closer to you, his pretty girl.

and then, then you see rafe take another long drag, before casually leaning over you completely, pressing you down slightly against the back of the outdoor sofa, a hand holding the burning blunt between two fingers, while his other, much more dominant hand is now curled around your throat, holding you in place with a firm, but gentle grasp as he easily, and slowly, blows the smoke from his lungs into yours—your long, fluffy mink lashes fluttering prettily as the dizzying smoke fills your lungs and clouds your brain, making you smile another dreamy, happy smile.

meanwhile, before you even have time to respond, rafe is kissing you once more—again, this time more deeply, messily, mouth opened as his tongue sucks and plays with yours, humming in content after a long moment once he pulls back, an amused smirk on his kiss-swollen lips, similar to your own swollen lips, your lips smeared with your lipgloss once again, but you don't really care this time.

"this some good shit—huh, baby?"

#⠀࣪⠀ׅ ♡ ⠀࣪𓂃 #‧ ₊˚ bambi's works 𓂃ෆ #outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron concept #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron fluff #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey oneshot #drew starkey prompt #drew starkey drabble #drew starkey smut #drew starkey fluff #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #obx fic #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe x you

[rafesfavgirl]

jj maybank headcanons

pairing: bf!jj x fem!reader

context: jj maybank as your boyfriend.

words: 657

warnings: definitely +18. mdni. daddy issues, marijuana use, alcohol use, abandonment issues, attachment issues, physical and mental abuse, SMUT

jj's 100% the definition of a "golden retriever" boyfriend.

your relationship doesn't start out all sunshine and rainbows at first, though.

y'all were definitely a friends with benefits to lovers story.

at first, y’all kept it completely physical because you were both afraid of getting too attached and hurting each other.

jj felt like this, especially. he just didn’t think he was good enough for you.

but even when y’all were just fucking, he’d do the sweetest things for you. including making sure you were all cleaned up afterwards.

once you started dating though, the sweetness only amplified.

he doesn’t have much money, but he ALWAYS brings you flowers that he’s picked from somewhere—whether that be some kook’s garden, the country club, or even outside the chateau.

you are his absolute number one priority and the most important thing in his life.

you’re his ray of sunshine.

whenever things get bad at home with luke, you’re the first person he comes to.

when luke hits him and he shows up at your door with bruises, you nurse him back to health.

when luke talks down to him and makes him feel like a piece of shit, you reassure him that he’s not.

“you’re perfect, j. it’s not your fault.”

he’s terrified of losing you.

sometimes he thinks you’re going to see all his flaws and leave him just like his mom did. you always tell him otherwise, though.

“i’m not going anywhere, baby.”

when he gets anxious after all the pogues start fighting, you squeeze his hand three times and that makes him feel better.

he’s convinced he doesn’t deserve you.

he always takes you out on adventurous little dates—and sometimes, y’all get in trouble for it.

you’re his number one surfing buddy.

he was the one who taught you how to surf.

your family’s the family he’s never had.

he loves when your family invites him over for dinner and he gets to play with your little siblings, who absolutely adore him.

when you and the pogues smoke together, his favorite thing is when you hold the joint out in front of him and let him take a hit that way.

you always help him with his party trick when he tries to do it on the hms pogue.

you’re the only one who can keep up with him when it comes to taking shots and drinking. john b, pope, and kie always tap out.

sometimes you get insecure about his close friendship with kie, but he always assures you that it’s only you.

“i love you. you got that?”

his favorite nicknames for you are mama, princess, baby, and baby girl.

you’re the only one he’s ok with addressing him by his full name—jesse james.

don’t think everything’s perfect though, sometimes you fight too.

especially about guns. and jj getting into fights.

you always nurse him back to health regardless, but you hate when he gives in and scrambles with whoever.

fights are non-negotiable if someone says shit about you, though.

not only will he go against your wishes about him fighting, but he’ll make sure he wins.

speaking of jealousy, it doesn’t happen often, but he definitely still gets jealous every now and then. and he loves reminding you that you're his.

“you’re mine, princess.”

he’ll show you that in bed too.

and since it's jj, he's an ABSOLUTE FREAK in the sheets, and kinky as hell too.

he'll tie you up, eat you out, and make you cum over and over again until you beg him to stop.

he loves bending you over and fucking you while giving your ass a little smack.

he chokes you occasionally, but prefers pulling your hair.

he will lick anything off of you and tease your clit until you're squirming.

he definitely has a daddy kink too.

when you give him head, he loves giving you facials.

and his favorite position is your legs on his shoulders.

reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated <33

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#jj maybank #jj #jj obx #jj outerbanks #soft jj #cute jj #cute jj maybank #jj headcanons #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank smut #jj smut #jj fluff #jj hcs #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank x reader #jj x y/n #jj x reader #jj maybank x y/n

[erwinsvow]

you’re made of tougher stuff than rafe had realized.

he pampers you, of course, gives you the full princess treatment, even though you get all shy about it, trying to refuse him—which never works. he thinks you deserve it, because you deserve everything that he can give you, but he’s really trying to butter you up, get you ready for when you find out what kind of shit he’s really been up to. 

you’ve made a habit out of not questioning anything rafe says, following his instructions without a second guess. your boyfriend is overpoweringly dominant—it’s easy to do as he says and a part of you is convinced that you prefer it this way. you feel your shyness melt away when you’re with him, your real self bubbling to the surface, more sure of yourself now because rafe is sure of you. 

you don’t realize when it’s happened—only that it has. hand in hand with becoming more confident like rafe, because of rafe, you start being a little more observant.

rafe usually sends you away—gently murmuring in your ear to go get him another drink, or go say hi to someone for him, while he’s trying to conduct business. he sells coke only when you’re out of eyeshot or back at tannyhill waiting for him—he doesn’t need you knowing the details of what he’s doing to make money. the crap with the pogues is put on hold anytime you’re around since he knows your bleeding heart will only feel bad for them. more than that, rafe doesn’t need those idiots earning your sympathy and making him seem like the bad guy. he likes you as you are, all your emotions just for him. 

he thinks this is the way it needs to be to keep you with him, but you start to surprise him.

you come back with a beer for rafe and another lemonade seltzer for yourself, handing it to rafe with a smile and settling on his lap. people at the party might look at the two of you weirdly, but you don’t care anymore, even though the thought of something like that used to make you cry. you lock eyes with rafe, a hand resting on his shoulder while his own hands wrap around your waist.

“that guy over there told me to ask you if you had any coke on you,” you say, taking a sip of your drink and making yourself comfortable against rafe. he freezes for a second, tenses under your touch.

“he said that?” rafe shrugs, fist clenching around the beer bottle. “don’t know why he’d ask that.” you respond with a matching shrug.

“i don’t know. but he’s been talking to those two all night, i bet they’ll buy from you too.” he tries not to act surprised with your words—so comfortably talking about who he could sell drugs to tonight, like you’re discussing what you want for dessert. 

“yeah, kid?”

“mm-hmm. he seemed real nervous. you could probably upcharge, doubt he’d notice.” you take another sip of your drink, swinging your legs. “can we get ice cream on the way home?” rafe presses a wet kiss to your cheek, making you squirm and giggle. he gets up, setting you down on the couch. 

“yeah. let me go take care of business first.”

“okay. charge him double. then i can get a large.” 

“sure thing. you’re the boss.”

#this is so rushed! i just had the first line in mind and i wanted to get it out before i totally forgot about it #in a perfect world this is a longer story and ends with reader helping him cover up the fact that he literally murdered the sheriff... #anyways #let me know if anyone would want that 2nd part !! <3 #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

[princessbrunette]

I don’t know if you’ve done this but what abt deer!reader being a bit bratty for the first time?? How would pope react? (Preferably season 3 pope but any would be fine!!!)

i only write s3!pope !! ♡

ੈ♡⸝⸝🍧⋆🩷₊⊹

“and— and i’ll be gone for like, three days max— but when i’m back, i’m back for good, okay? i know you can survive that long, and plus it’ll all be worth it because i’ll finally have the—” popes description of the elaborate pogue plan had turned to rambling as he registers your disturbed expression, your boyfriend stood above you by the pier where you had otherwise been peacefully reading your book.

maybe you had been in a mood that day, but as he continued to speak, you dug your nails into the malleable spine of your old book, blinking rapidly as if attempting to control the wave of emotion coming over you. for the most part, you were docile. understanding. you let pope do what he needed to do, all the time — because you knew how much it meant to him. from the dawn of your relationship you’d both had your own things, and that’s how you liked it. but recently, you were starting to feel the gap between the importance of the pogues and the importance of you.

in that moment, you were sick of having no control over the relationship. you usually liked it— it was relaxing to let pope do the thinking and decision making, but you wondered if you were being walked over — which is why you snapped.

“no. you’re not going.” you tense your jaw, lips tight and eyes squinted. he stops his rambling, blinking at you for a second.

“okay, i can see you’re upset — and i totally get it —”

“no, you don’t. you’re an idiot, pope. and — and you’re selfish.” you stand up, and his brow falls a tad, pushing his chin up slightly as if to assert dominance as he steps into your space.

“hey. we don’t speak like that.” he warns, voice lower and you resist the urge to cower.

“or what? you’re just gonna leave anyway.” regretfully, your bottom lip puffs out childishly and he sighs loudly, making his strong chest rise and fall through his muscle tee. he cups your cheek, brows raising and crinkling.

“being a brat isn’t for everyone, i hope you know that.” he comments and you sniff, trying to force your eyes from watering. “maybe you… just needed to let it out. get it all out your system.” he thinks out loud.

the ‘punishment’ you receive is far from traditional. no, he doesn’t spank you or anything like that. instead, you’re leant against his chest back in his bedroom with one hand at your mouth, fingers just resting on your tongue, stuck down your throat, and the other hand between your wide open legs, furiously rubbing at your clit as you whine and gag around his fingers.

“you know i love you, even if you get sassy on me. just… not taking my fingers out until i’m sure you’re not gonna use that pretty mouth to be mean to me. is that fair or no?” he coaxes and you respond with a wet gargle and a whimper. “i’ll take that as a yes.”

ੈ♡⸝⸝🍧⋆🩷₊⊹

#anon #pope heyward prompt #deer!reader

[deceitfuldevout]

Until Death (Part 2)

Arranged Marriage AU: Dark!Husband!Rafe Cameron x Wife!Reader

Word Count: +2,021

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Domestic Violence, Humiliation, Branding, Forced breeding, Gun violence, Mild gore, Hints of misogyny.

Author's Note(s): I know this is over the top. I am on my period and only seek *violence*.

During the next few months, it had only worsened. Rafe was starting to feel comfortable around you now that his father isn’t keeping tabs. It was about time you had some marital training. From now on, no more hanging around those Pogue friends of yours. It was about time you started acting like a part of higher society. He won’t have you embarrassing him.

He’s let you get away with more than enough snarky remarks, and if you kept that stubborn attitude there will be consequences. Those days of rebellion are over now. He came up with the perfect routine to follow. As head of the house, Rafe expects certain things from you. To serve and obey like a good wife should.  

It took some time and effort but eventually you learned. Whatever it takes to ease that temper of his. You remember the first few weeks of training. When Rafe would chase you down the halls of the manor with a riding crop in hand. He wouldn’t hesitate to bend you over his lap if needed. He absolutely loved to play ‘cat and mouse’, taunting his prey before going in for the kill.

Rafe took pleasure in watching that flicker of hope burn out. When he would arrive home from a long day of work, he wants you waiting patiently at the door. As soon as he steps in you get to work, greeting him when he enters. You place a chaste kiss on his cheek. Rafe isn’t satisfied by your lack of effort. He doesn’t try hiding the obvious frown, “Sweetheart,” his voice is stern, “That’s not what I taught you,” he’s waiting for you to get it right.

When you lean in again, he wraps his arms around your waist. Rafe takes the opportunity to lift you a few inches from the ground. He places you back down with his hands still cupping your rear. He grips and squeezes at the flesh before delivering a harsh smack. Then Rafe finally let’s go. Now sporting a cocky grin on his face, “I’m starving, what’s for dinner?” he can afford a private chef but prefers a home cooked meal instead. It was his way of keeping you busy at home. He loves watching you on camera playing housewife.  

You walk with him the dining room where dinner awaits. It instantly improves his mood. Dinner was quiet. Mainly because Rafe did most of the talking. He would start with how his day was, then extensive detail of how his office life was, followed by how happy he was to be back home. You’ve already tuned him out. It took a while to realize he’d been calling your name.

By the time you’ve realized it he’s already lost his temper. He slams the dinner table hard enough to break out of that daydream you were currently in. You look up from your plate to find a very pissed off Rafe. You let out a string of apologies that are quickly shut down by him, “Don’t, not another word out of your mouth until we’re finished,” A quiet Rafe is never a good thing.  

Although you were exhausted from the multiple tasks today, you wanted Rafe to hear you out. So, you try to make up for it the only way you know how. Dressed in a seductive camisole that was hiding a lacy two-piece. As soon as Rafe spots you he’s at a loss for words. This time it was different, you decided to take charge by straddling his waist. You brought his hands to your hips before fastening your pace. Rafe stares back with hooded lids. There’s a look of hunger in his eyes. That’s exactly where you need him. Desperate and wanting.

He lifts his head to catch a breast, teasing the other with his free hand. You moan with pleasure, raising your hips faster to catch the rising orgasm. Rafe could feel you were close. His hand dips down to find that bundle of nerves. He gives it a few rubs before tugging at it. You instantly melt into a puddle of pleasure. Your head falls back as you felt the wave of pleasure hit. After coming down from your high that’s when you realize the slick between your legs. Rafe came, hard.

You were stuffed to the brim with his spunk. He held you close, gently turning the both of you onto the bed. Your head now pressed against his chest. Rafe doesn’t pull out, he doesn’t want to. He seemed much more relaxed than earlier. That when you decide now would be a good time to tell him, “Rafe…" you start to plea your case, “I miss my parents,” you just wanted some space. It was something he’d been dreading of since the beginning. Rafe knew very well you were a free spirit. It would take some time to break that out of you. He needed to make you more reliant on him. So, for the past few months he’d been tampering with your birth control.

Yet no news of a pregnancy was made. He assumes it was from stress. What was stressful he hadn’t a clue. He gave you everything. What more could you possibly want? He huffs, “Fine,” grabbing your jaw to face him, “But I’m coming along,” he’s not going to risk you falling out of line. The last thing he needs is for you to embarrass him. Tears of joy stream down as you kiss him repeatedly. He couldn’t hide the grin on his face. Not when his adorable wife was so doting over him.  

As each day passed, Rafe began to grow weary. He was nervous taking you out for the first time. His suspicions only grew when you start to pack a few bags. To his knowledge this was supposed to be a short trip. He chose the very day you were going to leave to start an argument. He'll be damned if he's sending his wife back to the cut. What if you ran away? Or worse, you running away with some Pogue. He'd grown suspicious for a while now.

It was the day of your trip. After waiting for Rafe downstairs, you try searching for his whereabouts. To your surprise, he was still sat at his desk. You couldn't believe it. He hadn't even bothered to pack his bags. Hell, he even had the gall to be upset. This wasn't fair, you were the one who was supposed to be in a bad mood.

Rafe starts, "Where is it?" he states. You roll your eyes, "Where is what Rafe?" as soon as he stands you step back. Already prepared for the worst as your hands fly in front, "Rafe..." tears begin to brim. You blink them away. It''s not like they would help. You sigh, "Where is what--" that's when he pounces, Rafe grabs you by the arm and pulls you to his desk.

He slams you against it with a 'thud'. All the air escapes your lungs. At that moment you start to cry harder. He growls in your face, "Where the fuck is it?!" Rafe had grown suspicious when you stopped wearing your wedding ring. He wants everyone to know you're off limits. You try to catch your breath, still attempting to muster up some words, “It doesn’t fit me anymore…”

“Bullshit,” "N-no! I swear! It doesn't fit me!" you're a sputtering mess. Tears and spit ran down your face. Rafe doesn't buy the act, not one bit. He wants you to prove to him your loyalty. He flips you over, pulling up your skirt before yanking down the garment. He aims his leaking tip against your folds. He fucks you against his desk, grunting into your ear a string of curse words and threats. Rafe reaches for something next to him, “You won’t wear the ring? Fine,” he picks up a wax stamp, still warm from earlier.

Still hot to the touch. Rafe presses his entire bodyweight on top of yours to prevent you from escaping. He traps your hand under his, isolating your ring finger from the rest. That's when you begin to panic, “Rafe! Rafe let go! Let go of my—“ You spot the tool in his hand. Now you were certain that he intends to burn you with it.

You thrash against his larger body, trying your best then break free form the grip he has on you. He takes the heated brand, hovering right above your digit. He then presses it tightly against your finger, ignoring the wail of agony escaping your lips. The smell of burning flesh consumes the room. A part of you wants to hurl from the stench alone.

When he pulls it away you cry harder. Rafe is in awe as he stares back at his initials now permanently burned into your finger. Fuck, he's never been more turned on in his life. Rafe thrusts his hips at a faster pace. He came with a roar, emptying a load deep inside. That's when he pulls something from his pocket. Your wedding ring. Rafe presses his lips against your ear and whispers, "Here, you won't be needing this," he drags the ring down your abdomen and past your mound. He coats the ring with your arousal before pushing it inside.

His fingers reach as far as they can go. Your breath hitches, feeling his thick digits stretching you. A whine escapes your lips. You clung to the desk for dear life. Rafe leans back in his chair, lighting up a cigarette to get a good view of his girl. He feet give your legs a light kick to part them. His cock twitches at the sight of his spunk leaving your womb. He watches as you attempt to push the ring out, evening offering to help get it out.

If the treatment wasn't humiliating enough, he would always find a way to make it worse. You turn around, now leaning against the desk with parted legs. His hands reach in between your legs. As one of them pushes a few fingers inside, the other toys with your clit. Rafe retrieves it with that same triumphant look after getting what he wants. This was the final straw. Your finger stung, you were tired and in unimaginable pain. Yet still, that spark of anger over came all senses, "Keep it, I want a divorce," with that you left his office.

You could hear Rafe's steps approaching and make a run for it. You beat him to the nearest guest room, locking the door behind. Rafe continuously slams at the door, "Don't even think about it! You're not leaving me! Do you hear me?!" Rafe screams your name at the top of his lungs. It startles you. When he starts to kick the door that's when you attempt to hide. Quickly finding a place under a bed. After a while the sound of Rafe's voice starts to die out. Hopefully his anger would subside, and this would all be over with. But all he could think of was how to get through this door.

A wave of relief is shortly lived. Until the sound of a gun firing is heard on the other side. Rafe shoots the door a few times until the lock finally breaks. You muffle a sob when you spot his feet standing right in front of the hiding spot. He calmly calls for your name, "Baby...please come out..." his voice is calm, too calm, "Don't make this harder for us," as if it would help. What other choice did you have?

You held out a hand. Rafe bends down to pull you out from underneath. He held you tightly, as if you'd disappear at any moment. He never sounded so desperate in his life, "You're not walking out on me," his grip tightens, "You will never leave me, do you understand?" he expects you to answer. Of course, you caved in, "I--I understand..." a stray tear escapes. Rafe's expression quickly changes. He swipes it away with the back of his thumb, "I love you, you know that, right?" his voice breaks, yet there are no tears.

That day you had to explain to your parents that you'd fallen ill. But don't worry, Rafe would take care of you. Through sickness and in health as promised.

#reader #dark!fanfic #dark!fic #reader insert #dark fanfiction #fem!reader #dark fanfic #dark!fanfiction #dark fic #my work #dark!rafe #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #my works

[cal-flakes]

╰┈➤ rafe gets jealous

warnings: a tiny bit of smut, swearing, dom!rafe, mean!rafe, shitty writing.

summary: rafe gets jealous when you talk to jj at a party. innocent!reader x rafe

the loud thumping music invaded her ears as she made her way around the large house. she had arrived with her boyfriend but thirty minutes in and he was nowhere to be seen. these parties weren’t her kind of thing, but of course she’d go just to make rafe happy. she’d do anything to make rafe happy.

her eyes skimmed the crowd, not being able to see much over the sea of people. it probably didn’t help that all these people seemed to be absolute giants. moving from the living room, she found a corner in the hallway to try and situate herself.

y/n wasn’t good with crowds, and she certainly wasn’t used to them. you’d be surprised at the amount of people who were utterly confused about the relationship between rafe and y/n. he was all about parties, drugs and alcohol while she preferred last night walks, staying in and watching films. it took some convincing from rafe to get y/n to go, but after seeing how happy it would make him, it was an easy decision.

watching so many people pass by her over and over made her dizzy. she didn’t know who’s house this was, she didn’t know who was here. before she knew it, panic set in and her eyes glazed over. y/n’s chest heaved as she tried her best to shrink into the corner.

a familiar voice broke her free of the hundreds of thoughts crossing her mind at such an insane speed. “hey y/n! didn’t think this was your scene?”

turning her head, her eyes met with an old friends, provoking a relieved grin to cross her face. “jj! thank god, have you seen rafe?” jj’s face contorted at the thought of y/n’s boyfriend. there was a very hostile history between the two, one y/n chose to ignore, not wanting to pick sides. “nah, you can come sit with us if you want?” jj offered sweetly, very aware of y/n’s anxiousness.

being childhood bestfriends with someone, you become used to their personality and mannerisms. just like jj had always done, he’d helped her out of another nerve-wracking situation.

nodding her head eagerly, she followed him through the house, all the way to the back garden. out there she recognised a few faces, john b, pope, kiara and sarah. as they noticed the girl following behind jj, they gave her warm smiles, especially sarah.

“rafe wander off again?” she half-joked, of course she knew what her brother was like, but didn’t appreciate his ability to forget to keep an eye on y/n. she nodded in response, a somewhat embarrassed laugh escaping her.

“why don’t you sit with us until he shows up?” jj suggested. “thank you guys, i don’t even know why i’m here to be honest.” y/n sat down on the deckchair next to her friend, pulling her short dress down as she did.

after some time, they had all fallen into conversation with one another.

“hey y/n do you remember when we-” jj started but was quickly cut off by the shadow of someone stood behind them. y/n and the pogues glanced up in sync, y/n’s eyes widening in delight as she scanned the familiar face.

“rafe! i couldn’t find you!” she beamed, happy to be in his company once again. “so you come sit out here with these pogues?” rafe grumbled, venom in his tone.

“hey! if you hadn’t left her all alone in there, jj never would’ve brought her out here!” sarah retorted, growing annoyed with her brothers attitude. rolling his eyes, rafe huffed and reached for y/n’s arm, wrapping a strong hand around her wrist.

“um, bye guys, it was nice to see you all!” y/n shouted over her shoulder as rafe dragged her away from the group.

rafe continued to pull her through the house until the pair reached his car. “get in.” he spat. bowing her head, she obliged, not wanting to anger him further. sitting down in the passenger side, she buckled her seatbelt quietly.

y/n eyed rafe as they drove in silence, his knuckles were white against the steering wheel as he seethed. deciding to speak up “please don’t be mad rafe, i was lost and jj was just trying to help” she mumbled, wary of his response. “jj this, jj that! do you have a thing for him or something?” rafe yelled, jaw clenching.

“what? no of course not! he’s just my friend rafe! i only want you!” she pleaded, trying to break his delusions. glancing at her slightly, rafe slammed the breaks on, pulling over on a dark road. “prove it.”

y/n’s face fell into a confused frowned, not quite understanding. rafe reached over to unbuckle her seatbelt before removing his own and leaving the car. y/n sat there in silence, baffled.

she jumped in her seat as rafe ripped her door open. reaching for her again, he pulled her out of the car before pinning her against it.

she felt his hot breath on his face as she met his volatile gaze, chest heaving. “i said prove it y/n” rafe snarled as he continued to tower above her. looking up at him, brows furrowed “i don’t understand rafe?”

“get on your fucking knees, and prove it” he spat, wrapping a hand around her throat before lowering her to the ground.

it was like a lightbulb went off in her head, finally understand what he wanted. she reached for his belt buckle, carefully undoing it. rafe’s hands gathered y/n’s hair into a ponytail while she pulled his jeans and boxers down, freeing his hard on.

before he could even blink, she wrapped her lips around the tip of his length, looking at him for approval as she did.

“that’s a good girl”

#dom!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe imagine #obx #outer banks

[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

[v4mpgutz]

HOW TO DISAPPEAR, Rafe Cameron [ DRABBLES ]

— i know he's in over his head, but i love that man like nobody can

rafe cameron x ditzy gf reader

warnings — sfw + nsfw hcs, slightly mean rafe, ditzy (silly, forgetful) reader, corruption, choking, blood mention, dacryphilia, petnames (baby, sweets), dumbification, piv sex

note: *laughing manically* its time to give the people what they want

rafe never really thought he'd be in a committed relationship. it wasn't that he preferred non-commitment or that he didn't like being tied down — he just had some form of abandonment issues which he would never admit to.

so one day when ward welcomes you into tannyhill as wheezie's new babysitter (sarah was running around with pogue's and he didn't trust rafe), rafe is a stuttering mess at first. he saw you, this innocent, silly little thing who seemed as pure as a baby lamb and decided maybe he did want to date someone.

when you two began dating, he very quickly realised that you seemed a little out of your head at times. you were very clumsy, causing accidents such as running into doors to happen often.

-> you sat on the counter in front of rafe, sniffling and wiping stray tears from your cheeks as he gently applied rubbing alcohol to the bloody gash on your hand where you'd chopped a little more than just capsicum.

"such a clumsy little thing, huh?" rafe teased with a chuckle as he gently patted your thigh once he finished. "gotta be payin' more attention, baby," he tutted with a shake of his head. "stop bein' so up in the clouds, yeah?"

rafe absolutely thrived off of you coming to him for any kind of help but especially when you forgot things. you often forgot specific chores ward and rose would ask you to do while you babysat wheezie and would hurry up to rafe's room for help.

-> "rafey," he'd hear you whine from the doorway and turn around with a raised brow.

"whatcha want, sweets?" he asked you, tongue poking his cheek as he bit back a smirk. he already knew what you came to him for and god he'd be lying if he said he didn't love it.

"forgot what ward wanted me t'do..." you mumbled with a frown, brows pinched together as you tried to think but to no avail.

"don't you remember?" rafe chuckled lowly as he approached you, large hands coming to hold your waist as his thumb rubbed circles into your hip. "he said you don't have to do anything today other than watchin' wheeze."

— NSFW

it wasn't true, of course. but rafe knew how ward was when you didn't complete chores and he loved to see you crying when you'd get scolded. you'd come running into his arms like always, crying into his chest as he tried to hide his boner that strained against his shorts.

sometimes rafe was gentle with you, thrusting slowly which had you crying out and scratching his biceps. feeling every inch of him with the slow pace as he buried himself deeper inside you. he loved when your brain would practically grow numb, eyes rolling around in your head as you whimpered and whined.

-> "feels good, huh?" he laughed and continued to push his hips forward and back again, slowly pistoning inside your sensitive heat. "so good i've turned you completely dumb for me. stupid little doll, right?"

all you could do was let out a whine as your muscles convulsed, eyes cloudy with tears of pleasure. rafe brought a hand to your neck, squeezing the sides. small little black dots filled your vision as he cut off your oxygen, not enough for you to pass out. a strangled moan escaped your lips as he chuckled and sped up, slapping your face gently.

"come on, baby," he grinned as he let out a few groans of his own. "look at me. awe, y'can't can you? too dumbed out to even see."

WHEWWWW LORD this was fun to write i am sweating ahahaahahahhhskkdf i need him rn

tags: @ladyinbl00d

comment to be added :o

#— river's sticky notes ✩˚｡⋆ #fanfic #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks #outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #rafe cameron smut #rafe x you #rafe cameron x you #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #drew starkey

[fairydvsts-blog]

𝐩𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

obx masterlist

summary; you know fucking JJ is against the pogue code, but, can you resist him?

warnings; SMUT, drug use, thigh riding, fingering, dirty talk, praising, public sex (kinda)

a/n; english isn't my first language, so you might find some mistakes; I'm open to constructive criticism. Enjoy!

You knew the rule: no pogue on pogue macking, however, sticking to it was hard when you felt so attracted to your best friend, JJ Maybank.

You had knew him since both of you were just a couple of kids, given that you had grown up together in The Cut, where you were neighbours. And you had considered him your best friend since then, or at least it was that way until puberty hit him like a truck.

Although you didn't know, he felt the same way about you. At first, he loved you like the sister he never had, but when you started growing up boobs, he couldn't help but see you differently. Soon, all of his wet dreams were about you and he had to force himself to contain his inappropriate thoughts; he didn't want to ruin your friendship.

Still, his attempts to suppress his feelings for you not always worked; sometimes he got all touchy and flirty, unable to keep his hands to himself when you were around. Not that you complained, but that attitude of his just made you hornier for him, and you were worried that someday you might do something stupid that could break apart your relationship.

One night, after you had spent the evening with the pogues drinking beer around a little bonfire, JJ and you lay down in the hammock that hanged from the big tree outside the chateau to smoke a joint together. Smoking with him had become like a tradition between the both of you every Friday night; you invited the others to join everytime, of course, but they always preferred doing whatever else.

You didn't realise back then, but they did it in purpose because they knew about how you felt for each other.

You stretched out next to JJ, getting comfy, when your friends said their goodbyes and moved towards the front porch, where they seated on the couch to talk a little before bed.

Your best friend, meanwhile, lit the blunt using the lighter he always kept in his pocket and took the first hit. You curled up against him, laying your head in his shoulder, and watched as he exhaled the smoke. The blonde put his arm around you and the smell from the weed filled your nostrils when he turned to look at you with a smile that took your breath away; he was gorgeous.

He took a couple more hits before he passed you the joint and you found yourself repeating his actions; soon, his eyes turned red and his pupils widened. You couldn't see your own, but you guessed you looked just the same.

You were usually the most loving of the two, always showing him affection through hugs and kisses, but when you were high the tables turned; in those moments he became all handsy. Although he had never exceeded your boundaries, that night things got out of hand.

When you both were totally stoned, the blonde started caressing your back underneath your hoodie —his hoodie actually—, giving you goosebumps, and when you were holding the blunt, leaving his other hand free, he stroked your naked thigh to almost touch your butt, testing your limits; yet, you did not objected at any time.

He was teasing you; but you knew how to play his game, too.

You sat up in the hammock and leaned on your elbow, drawing his attention from your body to your face. You took a long hit before taking his jaw in your hand carefully to push his lips open, getting closer to him, if it was even possible. You let the smoke out of your lungs and he inhaled it with a flirty smile in his face, then he exhaled it until it got lost in the air between you.

After that, you thought he would pull away, however, he brushed his lips against yours, sending shivers through your body. His eyes fluttered over your face, expecting a negative reaction on your part, when he didn't find it, he repeated the action; that time he titled his head a little to the side so there would be more contact between your parted lips; bumping noses.

It wasn't a real kiss, it was the slightest touch, but it sent shivers through your body and you could feel your panties getting wet. You wanted to hate yourself for letting JJ have that effect on you, but you were so turned on that you couldn't care less.

"JJ, you're playing with fire," you murmured, turning your face to the side in an attempt to recover your good sense.

The blonde's playful hand rubbed the outline of your ass cheek for a few seconds and then made its way down again, grabbing your knee so he could spread your legs and position himself between them.

He buried his face in your neck, where he placed a few wet kisses before taking your earlobe between his teeth. You tangled your fingers in his hair locks, sighing, and your eyes shuttered unconsciously.

"Then burn me," he whispered in your ear while he pushed his leg up between yours, making your pulse race.

Your body took control of the situation instantly and, without giving it a second thought, you started riding his thigh. JJ smiled, lifting your hoodie to expose your butt, only covered by your tiny bikini bottom. He finally grabbed it in his hand so he could bring you closer to his body, pressing into your pussy with his knee. The action made you moan and you covered your mouth to silence it; you didn't want the others hearing you, but being quiet was becoming more and more difficult with each touch.

"You like this, princess?" he asked with raspy voice as his hands crawled under your clothes to untie your bikini top. "Wish you could see how pretty you look rubbing against me."

You nodded while you whimpered, desperate to get your release, and JJ took of your top, throwing it at your feet, to grab your nipples with his fingers; he pinched and rubbed them until the pleasure became painful.

"J, please," you pleaded between moans, moving your hips faster against him when you felt you were about to cum.

"Please what, princess?" he questioned, though he knew thanks to your body language that you were on the brink of an orgasm.

"I'm going to fucking cum," you told him, moaning in his pinky lips as you struggle between kissing him or not.

However, JJ didn't give you the chance to do it, since he got away from you, denying your orgasm. You complained instantly, but the blonde covered your mouth so you couldn't say anything about it.

"Shh, it's me who decide when you get to cum, understood?" he said at the same time that he played with the strings from your bikini bottom with his other hand.

You nodded in response, given that you couldn't talk, and JJ let you go with a pleased smile.

"That's my good girl," he praised you as he got rid of your bottoms.

He repositioned himself between your legs, spreading them wider to take a look at your naked pussy, biting his lip at the sight. Without looking away, he licked his thumb and then slid it between your folds to rub your clit in slow circles. You started making faint, muffled sighs due to the craved touch and wrapped your leg around his hips. You brought him closer until your face was inches from his and his lustful eyes fixated on yours.

Your erratic breathing contrasted with his calmed one, his nose bumped against your cheek again and that time you couldn't resist the impulse to kiss him. Your tongues met, shyly at first, but JJ took control of the kiss right away, making it more demanding, as if he was marking you as his.

Your heart hammered in your chest like crazy while your shaky hands sneaked under his t-shirt to touch the soft skin of his abs lightly. Finally, your kiss broke when you felt JJ circling your entrance with two fingers, making you moan in his mouth.

"I want you so bad, J," you panted.

You closed your eyes as his fingers slided in, feeling his wet kisses go from your cheek to your neck.

"We can't do it here, they'd see us," he murmured between kisses, slowly thrusting his fingers into you, "but I promise I'll make you feel good, princess."

His words and fingers made you moan again and you kissed him in an attempt to keep quiet, feeling a pleasant tingling at your belly when he began fingering you faster. His cold rings hit your sensitive warm flesh with each thrust, giving you goosebumps.

JJ was as good with his fingers as you had imagined, even better; he knew how deep he had to push and how to curl them to reach that spot that made you weak on your knees.

"You're doing so good, baby," JJ said as he started rubbing your clit again. "You can cum when you're ready."

It was all it took for you to let go. You came harder than you have ever come in your whole life, shaking in his arms as you shouted his name. He had to kiss you to shut you up, sliding his tongue in your mouth, while he caressed your face. When you came down from it, he pulled away and kissed your forehead, hugging you, and you stayed like that for a few minutes.

"J, we broke the rule."

"We should've broken it sooner." You smiled.

#jj outer banks #jj obx imagine #jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank smut #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank x oc #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x fem!reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #outer banks smut #outer banks jj

[rafeandonlyrafe]

w for wheezie

words: 1.5k

warnings: very wheezie heavy i stan her, established relationship, physical violence!, descriptions of blood, rafe vs pogues, cameron family drama

“what do you think?” you hold up two letters, each silver with diamonds encrusted in them. “w for wheezie or l for louisa?”

“umm…” wheezie looks at the charms, tapping her chin, eyes flicking back and forth between the two.”

“i would say both, but…” you shrug, leaving the decision up to her.

“i think w because everyone calls me wheezie.” she decides.

“perfect.” you smile, looking at the chain lengths next. you love spending time with wheezie, especially when its shopping days like today where you take her to the mall or whatever store she wants.

usually rafe would accompany you, always hanging back to allow you to gossip, even if it was about him and your relationship. he’d only appear when you headed to the cash register, supplying his credit card to pay for whatever clothes or accessories you got.

“we should stop by sephora next.” you say as the cashier rings up your jewelry, various bracelets and necklaces, along with a chain and ring you bought for rafe (or really he bought for himself as you hand the cashier his card, but at least you picked it out).

“i need a new foundation for the summer.” wheezie says. it makes you pout for a moment, thinking about how grown up she is. you’ve been friends with rafe since middle school and used to play barbies with wheezie and take her to the american girl doll store, and now you’re taking her to buy makeup and try on dresses for homecoming.

“maybe a tinted moisturizer.” you remark, walking with bags in your hand to sephora.

--

“i would call this a successful haul.” you giggle as you load up your car, having to put bags in the backseat as well once the trunk is full. you turn on a playlist of yours and wheezies favorite songs, having different playlists ready for whoever you’re with.

it’s practical to buy so much at one time since you made the almost two hour drive to norfolk to visit the mall, and probably won’t be back for a long time. you prefer staying in the outer banks to shop, but it’s not always possible with the limited number of stores.

“do you think you have time next week to take me to get my haircut?” wheezie asks, already looking a bit like a mini you, and you have no doubt she’ll ask for a similar haircut.

“of course, wheezie girl!” you nod before letting out a squeal when one of your favorite songs come on, you both belting out the words as you make your way back towards tanneyhill, driving through marshy swamplands, little towns and finally crossing over the bridge.

you pull up the driveway, surprised how eerily quiet it seems to be. usually rafe would be running out the door to make sure you didn’t carry anything in.

“stay in the car for a sec wheezie girl…” you have a strange feeling building, and you always trust your gut. you look back to make sure she doesn’t follow you as you walk into the house to hear muffled grunting.

“rafe?” you call out, your cautious footsteps turning into a run as you make your way further into the house until you see rafe being held up by john b, jjs arm pushing forward to punch him in the gut.

“stop it!” you shout, running in to push jj away, but the second rafe is out of john bs tight hold, he turns to attack them, bravely taking on both in a flair of fists.

“stop it, rafe!” you shout, pulling at his arm. he only pauses when he feels your gentle touch, but john b doesn’t quit, reaching out to hit rafe again, right in the nose as he instantly starts to bleed.

“sarah!” you scream, finally noticing her in the corner of the room, sat with a glazed look in her eye with her knees pulled up to her chest. “stop your freaking attacking dog boyfriend!” you step between the boys, all three of them panting heavily, rafes nose dripping blood down the front of his shirt.

“we are fucking rescuing her!” jj says, puffing his chest up.

“what?” you turn to look at sarah, waiting for an explanation.

“rafe tried to lock me in the house.” she finally says, seeming to shake out of whatever daze she’s in as she stands up. “he tried to stop me from seeing john b.”

“im just trying to do whats best for you, sarah.” rafe says, his voice sounding hoarse from the fight. “he’s a bad guy.”

“no he’s not!” sarah shouts, no doubt going to start in on tirade when you hold your hand up.

“sarah, go with john b. just…” you let out a deep sigh. “get out of here. be back by dark though.” you shoo her away. no way she’s going to actually listen to you and be back by sundown, but at least it gives you time to figure out what’s going on and tend to rafe.

you turn to watch them leave, frown appearing on your face when you see wheezie standing there, looking like a scared little girl you once knew.

“wheeze-” you call to her, but she runs up her stairs into her room, slamming her door loudly. a problem for later, you decide as you turn to rafe.

“come on, baby, lets get you cleaned up.” you say softly, trying to lessen the anger so visible on his features. you lead rafe into the kitchen, wetting a rag with warm water as you gently drag it over his face, feeling tears well up in your eye when you see his busted lip.

“how was shopping? did you have fun?” rafe asks, making you glare at him.

“don’t you dare try to change the topic, rafe cameron. what happened?” you sigh.

“john b and those pogues are fucking criminals. there’s someone who has been robbing houses, and i don’t doubt it’s those fucking-” rafe lets out an angry grunt when you press the washcloth against his cheek, a bruise already forming. “im just trying to protect my family.”

“sarah isn’t a kid anymore, you gotta let her protect herself.” you say softly. “besides, wheezie seeing you all beat up and bloodied isn’t-”

“it was only because it was two against one.” rafe counters.

“baby.” you shake your head. “you’re missing the point. you have no proof that they’re doing anything. trust sarah, alright? i’ll talk to her later.”

“what would we do without you.” rafe smiles, cringing slightly when it stretches his lip, but it doesn't stop him from pressing his mouth against yours, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“you deserve the cameron last name more than sarah does.” rafe says, holding you tight against him, feeling your hands shaking slightly. “gonna marry you one day.”

“alright, buddy.” you giggle, making rafe roll his eyes as you pull away. he loves to talk about your future together despite still being so young. you can’t say you haven’t spent time imagining it yourself. “im gonna go talk to wheeze.”

“okay.” rafe gives you another kiss before watching you walk away.

you walk softly up the stairs, tapping your knuckles against wheezies door before opening it up.

“hey, everyone is okay.” you say softly, seeing her sitting on her bed, phone in hand, no doubt scrolling to distract from anything she’s feeling.

“i’m fine.” wheezie shakes her head. she may look fine, but you can see the look in her eyes. she’s just as shaken as you are, if not more.

“it’s okay to not be, though.” you sit down on the bed next to her. “you saw your brother getting beat up, you’re allowed to not be okay with seeing that.”

“its just…” wheezie sighs. “sarah has been so different lately since she started hanging out with john b. she even lied to me the other day.”

“im sorry, wheezie girl.” you wrap her in a tight hug. “your sister loves you. she’s just a teenager, going through a rebellious phase of life. she doesn’t realize that her actions have consequences and can hurt the people she loves.”

“will you talk to her?” wheezie asks. “you always know what to say.”

“of course.” you nod, pulling away from the hug, forcing a smile on your face. “but hey, let’s go get our shopping bags.”

“okay.” wheezie manages a smile.

you walk downstairs to see rafe has already brought everything in from the car, placing it all throughout the front entrance.

you smile as wheezie instantly goes for the sephora bags as you wrap your arms around rafe, pressing your head against his chest.

“its all gonna be alright.” you tell him.

“as long as you’re with me, you’re right.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head, his eyes bulging when he sees the dress wheezie pulls out. 

“you are not wearing that-” he begins to argue, finger wagging just like his dad would.

“it’s not for me, its for y/n!” wheezie argues.

“oh.” rafe looks down at you, noting the blush spread across your cheeks. “well, you can wear that but only for me.”

“rafe!” you squeal while wheezie makes a grossed out face.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewsephrry

#rafe fic #rafe fanfic #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe x oc #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x reader #rafe blurb #rafe drabble #rafe one shot #rafe imagine #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron imagine

[thecameronchronicles]

No Nut November

TW: Masturbation references. Smut. Semi-public sex. Language.

SUMMARY: Partaking in ‘No Nut November’ would prove difficult when you become a bit too needy for him to stay true to his ambition. 

WORD COUNT: 1500

REQUESTED:

Anonymous asked:

Reader x one of the obx guys and him and his friends (so either the other kooks or other pogues) are challenging each other who can go the longest for no nut November and it’s been a few days and you’re being needy so you do everything to tease him until he finally gives in and fucks you

*I WANTED TO CHANGE THIS A BIT TO MAKE IT A BIT MORE INTERESTING…

No Nut November

The odds were stacked against him from the second he agreed to this display of self control; one thing he already wasn’t known for possessing. But by the two week mark, having lasted longer than anyone thought he would, JJ was busting at the proverbial and literal seam of his pants as you only made this worse. Purposely wearing only his shirts and tracing him such ways that if you’d only move slightly north, he’d certainly stain his shorts after denying himself that release for so long. But if there was one thing JJ Maybank was above all else, it was stubborn. Especially when money was on the line. And this was the deal he made with the other pogues. Two hundred dollars for who could last. But you had an ambition all your own. 

“JJ?” You asked as he relaxed in the hammock, trying to think of anything but how his cock throbbed at even just the sound of your voice. He was desperate, but too stubborn to let anyone else have that two hundred dollars. 

“I’m bored…”

“I think Sarah and Kie are-”

“I want to play with you…” You watched his jaw clench and his chest rise in a deep breath. 

“Sweetheart-”

“Please J…I miss you…” He sat on the edge of the hammock, tapping his knee as you knew the invitation well as it was all you had for the last two weeks. But no matter how skilled he was with his fingers or his tongue, you wanted HIM. Because there was nothing like the sensation of his fullness-the closeness. And for that, you were willing to risk appearing desperate or even feral. 

“I want YOU, JJ…”

“Baby, I can’t-” For this, you dropped to your knees, running your hands up his thighs and to his belt as he contracted against you. 

“Is THIS worth more than two hundred dollars? Shit, J, I’ll pay you myself, just fuck me!” 

“Ahem!” John B cleared his voice at your back as you turned to find Pope and Kiara smirking at your desperation. 

“You’re so screwed, J…” Kie commented as he was able to distance himself from you long enough to ignore the temptation you forced on him. 

A few hours later, you were all set around the inner heart of The Chateau. Some conversation of a recent movie spoken between Kiara and John B with passionate standpoints on either end as you could only focus on the fringe of the blanket at the ends of your fingers, unable to meet anyone’s gaze as you were too embarrassed. All because of a stupid deal that made you completely unhinged. And in the attempts he made to warrant a response from you, you would only ignore him, until he tried to pull your legs over him, to which, you’d just pull yourself into his room, slamming the door closed without a care of how this could embarrass him or yourself. 

He waited only a short while before following behind you, finding you in one of his shirts yet again, only now, without a care to use it as a means of seduction. But the second that you would find him wrapping his arms around you, no matter how tempting his embrace had been, you pulled away from him. Or at least tried to before feeling him pull his grip to between your thighs. As you tried to fight him, but found the expert circles and perfect pressure to draw you into more of an agreeable state than what you would have preferred. 

“JJ-”

He silenced you by a hand around your mouth, “You’re gonna want to keep this there…I’m not stopping until you know how sorry I am…And I know how much of a screamer my girl is,especially when I make her squirt…” You groaned into his palm as he was quick to take you to that precipice of that orgasm, only to edge you. 

“JJ, Please…”

“I know what you need…And I know exactly how to give it to you…but you need to give it to me when I’m ready…”

“Please, J…Nobody has to know…Just the tip…Just let me see it-fuck…please…” 

“You really love it that much?” He smirked against your ear as his hand had lowered so you could talk. 

“I need it, J…Please…” You began to rock your ass against him, rubbing and circling him, before his hands stationed at your waist. 

“Then we’re gonna make it worth two hudnred dollars.” He turned you suddenly on your stomach, the excitement of this moment having only been compared to that of your first time together. His hands were quick to undress himself before he would then position your hips up to him. 

“You want it and you’re gonna take it, right sweetheart?”

“Yes, J-I swear to God…”

“Nuh uh…Me. Swear. To. Me.” He ordered as he bent you into such an arch that he could look into your eyes as you nodded. 

“I swear to you, JJ…Whatever you want to do to me, I’m yours…” He smirked.

“Then perk that perfect little ass up for me and bounce it against me exactly how I like it…you know how…And I want you to flick yourself…do it slowly because I want this to last…” You nodded. “And you don’t get to come until I say.”

“Yes, JJ…”

“Goooood girl…” He purred, his cock suddenly inside of you as you whimpered. 

“Yes…” You grunted. “YES-” You spoke again behind tear eyes and clenched teeth. 

“You gonna make it worth it for me?”

“Yes…”

“Then why the fuck aren’t you moving?” You began to move forward, allowing his cock to find the familiarity of your inner walls clenching around him. With a hand to the bend of your neck, he held you in guidance to slow your desperate thrusts before you were left solely to his motions and the white knuckled grip into your shoulder. 

“J Please…it’s-”

“Don’t you dare complain. I’ve waited two weeks without doing as much as stroking and you’ve been walking around making it worse…wearing my shirts with no panties-yeah I noticed…” He paused to set a smack to your ass, “Bending over and moaning…on your knees and looking up at me like you know drives me crazy…So YOU don’t get to complain.” But as he spoke these words, he would take pity on you as he had been relentless, minutes fading into an hour and beyond as he’d break long enough to prolong his own release. All the while, edging you and spouting those dirty words that kept you ready for him without aggression reaching to the forefront. 

“JJ…”

“Turn over.” He finally allowed you a reprieve before you obeyed, his hands quick to pull his shirt from your torso as he was quick to attack each breast. Your fingers ran through his hair but were quickly set over your head. 

“You’ve done enough…I know you’ve had to wait too…So you’re gonna come,” He was silenced by his own motions, wincing at the reinsertion of his cock to your welcoming sex, “With me…It’s only fair-”

“Please, JJ…”

“Fuck…I missed those whines…Ke-k-keep whining for me…shit…” He grunted, head folded into your shoulder as you dug your nails into his arms, his muscles contracting to each movement, before his paces grwe to that familiar speed of a near climax. 

“You can stop and still win, J-” You reminded him. 

“Not a fucking chance in hell. You wanted it…you’re gonna get it. All. OF. IT!” He clenched, battering into you, finger rushing across your clit as you would squirt,allowing him the perfect slick to pound his final desperate movements into you before then falling at your side, breathless, pullingyo in to him. 

“To be honest…I can’t believe I lasted THIS long…” He confessed as you nodded. 

“I’m sorry, JJ…For being desperate-”

“I’m not.” You looked up at him, his hand softly tracing your jaw. 

“Because it means that you have 200 reasons to make it up to me.”

“200-orgasms?!” He nodded. 

“Before the end of November-” Your eyes widened. 

“That’s like five a day, J!”

“And this was one…” He winked. “Now do whatever you have to, get some water-shower,although that’s redundant…because when I come back…I’m using that perfect…dirty…little mouth…” You were left in awe as he moved back into the crux of The Chateau, applause awaiting him. 

“Guess you missed out, JJ…” Pope teased. 

“You can gladly have it. Because after that last dollar is spent, I’ll still get to have sex…” He teased as you blushed when hearing him speak in regards to you. But you couldn’t help the fact he was right…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @pankhoeforlife @pankowperfection

#jjmaybank #jjsmut #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #jj maybank #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #obx fanfiction #outer banks #rafe cameron

[fandomxpreferences]

I'll Always Be Here

Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!Sister, Rafe Cameron x Routledge!Sister (reader and characters are all over 18)

TW:18+, mention of domestic violence (nothing graphic), mentions of mental abuse, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of a gun, angst

Summary: JJ Maybank has been your best friend and keeper for as long as you can remember. So what happens when you get caught up with Kook prince Rafe Cameron and he discovers its the not the fairytale it seems.

Word Count:4.6k

Despite popular belief, JJ is a smart man. He may be the hot head of the group, always coming up with harebrained plans, but he's extremely intuitive and observant. He's been your best friend for years. 

It's kind of a given, seeaing as you're John B's little sister. You're only a year younger, and for as long as JJ has known his friend, you've always been by his side. Even when John B whined about having to bring his baby sister, JJ has always made sure you had a place in the group. 

He's always made you feel like you belong and took you under his wing. Which is exactly why he knows something is wrong. He can read you like a book, and he sees the signs before anyone else, even your brother. 

He wasn't happy when you got tangled up with Rafe Cameron and tried to warn you that there's a darker side to the aggressive kook. You insisted that you knew, but that he's never been anything but gentle towards you. 

It's such a cliche, falling for the man who's an asshole to everyone except you. It made you feel special, like you were the only one who got to see the real Rafe. You were young, barely 18, and naive. Oh, how wrong you had been. 

You've been under Rafe's thumb for just over a year now, and the switch in your personality has been mind-boggling. JJ knew something was wrong when you blew off your own birthday party at the Chateau, but the rest of the Pogues wrote it off as you getting caught up in the kook lifestyle. 

They had even been mad, spouting off about how you thought you were too good for the cut now. Too good for them. JJ knew better though, and that's when he started paying closer attention. 

You all but live at the Camerons now, only coming home to retrieve more clothing. Though, there's not much left for you to take at this point. 

JJ saw you for the first time in three months at Midsummers. You briefly locked eyes with him before quickly averting your gaze and slinking into your boyfriend's side. His eyes raked over you, taking in your small appearance. 

He didn't miss the way Rafe was gripping you a little too tight, or the way that you only spoke when spoken to. The expensive fabric of the dress clung to your body and JJ almost thought his mind was playing tricks on him when he noticed a yellow bruise in the last stages of healing on your inner arm. 

He thought it must be the lighting, or that maybe you just bumped into something. The gnawing feeling in his gut screamed otherwise, but he pushed it aside against his better judgment. You would come to him if you needed help. Right?

You avoided him for the entire night and he tried to ignore the sinking feeling as you were pulled inside by Rafe. 

He sees you around town a little more after that, always in passing. If you see him you don't acknowledge it, but that doesn't stop him from staring at you every time. 

He notices that you're dressed differently now, clad in designer clothing that looks stiff and out of place on your frame. Your hair is neatly styled; soft and void of its usual charms and braids, a stark contrast to the usual messy tangles caused by saltwater and surfing.

Your makeup is perfectly applied, and it causes him to frown. In almost two decades of knowing you, he's never once seen you with more than mascara and lipgloss. You look full kook now, and it makes his stomach lurch. 

You're playing a role that Rafe has molded you into, he knows that much. He knows without a shadow of a doubt that this isn't your doing. You've always preferred a bikini top and comfy jean shorts, usually covered up by one of his t-shirts that swallow you whole. 

He tries to tell John B, hoping he can get some intel from Sarah. The younger Cameron has written off her older brother, claiming that he's a psycho. When he pries for more details and discovers that Rafe tried to strangle her, he got into a fight with John B. 

"You're telling me that you're okay with her shacking up with the man that tried to kill his own sister? That doesn't set off any alarm bells?" JJ shouts and John B just sighs. 

"She's her own person, JJ. I can't control her." 

JJ stares at him in disbelief, disgusted that he's so pussy whipped he's disregarding his own sister's safety. 

"What about when he tries the same thing on Y/N? Will you care then? You haven't noticed the way that Rafe has completely erased her identity?" He screams, shoving the Routledge back. 

Kie steps in and pulls him away, her eyes sad as she stares up at the blonde. 

"I know you're worried, JJ. I am too. But we don't have any evidence, maybe it's time to accept she's just changed."

JJ scoffs and backs away, sending his found family daggers before racing off on his dirt bike.

He tried to reach out to you since then, only to find your number had been disconnected. He only tried to approach you once, but the fear in your eyes stopped him cold in his tracks. He knew that look, it had stared back at him in the mirror more times than he could count. 

He also knew that trying anything would only make it worse, so he let you go. 

Fast forward to tonight, it seems the entirety of OBX is at the kegger. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own shit to notice you arrive with Rafe, but JJ spots you immediately.

It's like he has a sixth sense that tingles whenever you're around, alerting his mind to your whereabouts before his eyes even land on you. 

You look miserable, the thick layers of makeup doing nothing to hide your sunken eyes and exhaustion. He fights with himself internally for a few minutes, debating whether he should talk to you or not. 

He doesn't want you to suffer because of him, but it's been so long since he's heard your voice or felt your arms around him, and every cell in his body is aching to be near you. He finally says fuck it, and his feet carry him forward on a mission. 

He stops a few feet in front of you, and your eyes shoot up to look at him in shock. He smiles down at you but falters slightly when you don't seem the least bit happy to see him. 

"Hey, Peach." 

He notices your lips quirk slightly at his nickname for you before they fall back into a flat line. You'd earned the moniker when you were sixteen. JJ got you drunk for the first time on Peach Schnapps and you had made an absolute fool of yourself before throwing up in the bonfire. 

Ever since then, you couldn't escape the embarrassing memory, though it never really bothered you. It was one of the best nights of your life, and your heart squeezes a bit at the thought. 

You give a short nod and he doesn't miss the way your hands wring together obsessively or how your knee is bouncing rapidly. He doesn't get a chance to say anything else before Rafe speaks up. 

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the trash king. Fuck off, Maybank. She doesn't want to talk to you." 

There's a cruel mocking tone to his voice and JJ's hands clench at his side before he smirks and turns to the kook. 

"Funny, I don't remember speaking to you. If she doesn't want to see me, she can tell me herself."

He's casual as he says it, but there's an underlying bite that sends a chill down your spine. Your eyes dart between the two men in front of you, unsure of what to do. 

You can see Rafe start to tense the longer you stay silent, anger coursing through him at your reluctance to tell your best friend to go away. You know it's in your best interest, but you can't bring yourself to say the words. 

You feel bile rise up your throat, and with each passing second you're painfully aware that this is only going to get worse for you. 

Rafe turns to you and you recognize the fire in his eyes as his pupils start to overtake his irises. 

"Tell him, baby." 

You cringe just barely at the pet name, an involuntary reaction you didn't fully realize you had. JJ catches it though and immediately knows it's now or never. 

He can feel the anxiety rolling off of you in waves, and that's enough confirmation for him. 

"Come on, Peach. The rest of the crew have missed you. You can at least come say hi to John B."

Your throat constricts at the mention of your brother, and JJ sees the tears on your lash line. You don't make a move, and Rafe laughs bitterly. 

"See? Go back to your side, pogue."

JJs on his last strand of patience and you can tell. He's always been extremely protective, but he's tried to stay in the shadows and wait for you. 

He knows that you won't leave until you're ready, but he's hell-bent on being there to catch you when the time comes. 

JJ is intimately familiar with being mistreated by someone you love. He knows the shame that comes with admitting it, the desire to protect the person even though they're hurting you. 

He isn't sure if Rafe has put his hands on you, but he's damn certain that he's got his talons in your mind. 

And he's also certain that if Rafe hasn't hit you, he will. It's only a matter of time. 

"I'm getting real sick of hearing your bitch ass voice, Cameron." 

His voice is sickly sweet, and he takes satisfaction in the way Rafe's eye twitches. He knows the man isn't used to being talked back to or having someone stand their ground.

You look on helplessly as Rafe squares his shoulders, clearly not above resorting to violence. JJ laughs darkly, looking forward to beating the absolute dog shit out of the man that's terrorized you for a year. 

"That's not in your best interest, man." 

JJ tries to warn him, but you know Rafe. Now that he's started this, and people are watching, he won't back down. You also know JJ, and he could kick Rafe's ass on a bad day. 

But standing here now, with months worth of rage waiting to be let out, you're convinced he could kill him. 

JJ stands relaxed, not a worry on his face, as Rafe pants heavily and turns red. He's already got him where he wants him. Even if JJ did lose this fight, he's already won. 

He's under the kook's skin, fucking with his head and he knows that Rafe is going to make impulsive swings with no real method. 

He sees it coming from a mile away, picking up on the way Rafe's body shifts back as his arm winds up. He dodges the punch easily before landing a right hook.

Your hands fly up over your mouth as you gasp, and your boyfriend stumbles back. 

His hand comes up to his cheek, wiping at the blood from where JJ's ring broke the skin. The entire crowd moves back as Rafe tackles him and you watch frozen as the two of them land blow after blow. 

You vaguely register hands on you as Kie and Sarah pull you away, sobs wracking your body. The three of you watch from a distance while John B and Pope try to break them apart to no avail. 

When JJ pulls out a gun and points it at Rafe's head, everything goes into slow motion. Your boyfriend takes a step back with his hands up defensively, and JJ has that manic smile he gets when he's about to do something stupid. 

Your voice sounds foreign to you as you scream JJ's name, pure terror coursing through your veins. His eyes meet yours and you shake your head, a silent plea to put the weapon down. 

He searches your face for a few seconds before lowering the gun, his features softening as he sees the state you're in. 

You barely register the sting of the ground scraping your skin as your knees give out and you collapse in heap, gasping for air. 

Sarah does her best to get your head between your knees so you don't faint, and Kie rubs your back soothingly. You look up as two feet come into your field of view, Rafe staring down at you with nothing but hatred. 

"Let's go." 

You start clambering to your feet before Kie pulls you back down and Sarah gets nose-to-nose with her brother. 

"Fucking leave and don't ever look at her again or I swear to God I will go get that gun and pull the trigger myself."

Her voice is quiet but lethal and Rafe scoffs before seeing how serious she is. He spits at the ground in front of you, and you flinch as more wails rip from your chest watching him walk away. 

In the blink of an eye, JJ is dropping to his knees in front of you and wrapping you up in his arms. You collapse into him, your tears soaking his shirt as he rocks you back and forth. 

"Shh, it's okay pretty girl. I'm right here, you're safe."

The girls share a look before walking back over to John B to give you and JJ space. Your brother watches the interaction with his hands in his hair, completely distraught. JJ tried to tell him, and he didn't listen. 

Now look at you, a shell of your former self and completely broken. He should have protected you and he failed you. Murdering Rafe flashes through his mind before he pushes it to the side to focus on you. 

His eyes follow every movement as JJ scoops you up and carries you into the chateau, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt so hard it looks like it might rip. 

Sarah wraps her arms around him as tears start flowing freely, and he leans into her. What has he done?

Inside, JJ sits you on the bathroom sink and puts a cold washcloth under your eyes to help the swelling. You sit like that for a few minutes before hopping down and gently instructing him to sit on the edge of the tub. 

You pull out a first aid kit and start disinfecting his wounds, your hands steady and a little too efficient. He frowns as you go through the motions as if this is second nature, and feels his head spin. You're too practiced at this.

"How do you know how to do all of this?" 

You seem to know just the right amount of pressure to apply to stop the bleeding without hurting him and what creams to use, a skill you didn't have before. 

He knows this because when he wrecked his dirt bike a while back, you tried to clean him up and it almost hurt worse than the accident itself. 

Your hands falter slightly and he stares at the side of your face as you resume your previous movements without answering. He takes a minute to really look at you in the bright lighting and his heart shatters. 

Now that he can really see you, his worst fears are confirmed. Your face is covered in foundation, but it doesn't hide the swelling of your cheek and eye. There are dabs of concealer on your neck, perfectly spaced and the size of fingertips. 

He goes to move your jacket down, wanting a better look at the rest of your body but freezes when you flinch. 

"What has he done to you?" 

It comes out as a broken whisper and you fight the fresh tears threatening to fall.

"I'm fine, JJ."

He shakes his head and you sigh, dropping the hand that's holding an alcohol pad. 

"No, Peach, you're not." 

There's a finality to his tone and you know you can't get around this. He grabs the wet washcloth and rubs at your face and neck, almost throwing up when the dark bruises start to peek out. 

He knew Rafe had a hold on you, but never in a million years did he imagine it was this bad.

You avert your eyes, not wanting to see the look of pity you're sure is blanketing your best friend's face. 

JJ feels sicker with each new mark that's uncovered and gently brushes his fingertips over them. He shakes his head as he finally pulls your jacket down, your arms covered in fresh and old bruises. 

He doesn't even want to imagine what the rest of you looks like. He notices you trembling and gently lifts your face to his with his index finger and pointer thumb. 

There's a multitude of emotions swimming in his eyes, but pity isn't one of them. Your lip quivers as he stares at you with the same love and adoration he always has, despite feeling like you're hideous and worthless. 

As if he can read the thoughts racing through your jumbled mind, he leans forward and presses his forehead to yours gently. 

"Hey, none of this is your fault, okay? You did so good, Peach. You're so strong and I'm so so proud of you. You never need to feel embarrassed or ashamed around me, if anyone gets it it's me."

You give him a weak nod and wrap your arms tightly around his neck, and he kisses the side of your head as you nuzzle into his shoulder. 

"Let's get you to bed, and we can talk tomorrow if you want." 

He takes your hand and leads you out of the bathroom and toward your bedroom slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements or jostle your body around. 

The rest of the group is inside now, quietly discussing the events of the night when you emerge. The conversation comes to a halt as their eyes land on you and John B feels ill when he sees your bruised body. 

He stands slowly and carefully makes his way to you with both hands out as if he's approaching a wounded animal. 

"I'm so sorry, Peach. Please, please know that I never would have let this happen if I had known." He chokes and you swallow thickly. 

"I know, JB. I don't blame you." 

He engulfs you in a gentle hug, his scent overwhelming you as you finally feel safe in your brother's arms again. He stifles his sobs for your sake before pulling away and letting JJ continue guiding you toward the back. 

The second you're out of his sight, he darts out the patio door and empties his stomach on the lawn. He feels Sarah rubbing his back as he continues heaving, before plopping down on the steps. 

"Rafe is going to pay for this."

In your room, JJ helps you change into pajamas and climbs into bed with you. The two of you lay there for a while, just basking in each other's company and listening to each other's breath. After a while, he hears soft snores coming from you and eases out of the bed. 

His face is set in a deep scowl when he returns to the living room and everyone turns to him. He locks eyes with John B, the two of them coming to a silent conclusion as the man gets up off the couch. 

John B turns to Sarah and Kie and nods toward the room you're sleeping in. 

"Keep an eye on her."

Sarah bites her bottom lip, contemplating if she wants the answer to her next question. 

"Where are you going?" 

JJ tosses his friend the keys to the Twinkie and he catches them with ease. 

"To get her shit and teach Rafe that no one fucks with the Pogues. Least of all my sister."

They don't wait for a reply before turning on their heels and making a beeline for the van. They climb in silently and peel out, speeding toward the Camerons. 

"So what's the plan?" JJ asks and John B glances over at him briefly. 

"Since when do we have plans? I'm getting my sister's stuff and you can deal with Rafe until I'm done." 

JJ claps excitedly, already stretching out his hands and preparing to finish what he started. 

The tires screech as John B stops in the driveway, both of them hopping out. They march up to the front door, and swing it open without so much as a knock. 

Rose jumps in her seat, her eyes wide like saucers as she stares at the two men in her foyer. 

"Don't even think about it. Where was she staying?" John B barks and Rose just points up the stairs. 

"Last room on the left." 

He doesn't spare her another look as he bounds up to the second floor on a war path. He starts grabbing everything that he recognizes as yours, as well as a couple Rolexes, and makes his first trip to the Twinkie. 

He figures its reparations and slips the watches into the glove box. 

As he's making his second trip he hears shouting in the backyard. He recognizes Rafe's voice and takes a second to place that the other person yelling is Ward. 

He grabs the last of your things and whatever else piques his interest, taking them outside as well. 

In the back, JJ is smirking as both men try to intimidate him. Ward goes so far as to offer him money, tired of dealing with Rafe's shit and never willing to admit his son's faults. 

JJ laughs at the insulting suggestion and crosses his arms. 

"You think that I'd let him get away with this for some cash? That girl is priceless to me, there's nothing you could possibly offer that would make me walk away from bashing this asshole's face in." 

Ward's face drops as he realizes he can't get out of this and he makes a split-second decision. He may be loyal to his son to a fault, but he's getting too old to be fist-fighting. 

"You're on you're own, Rafe. I told you this would happen." 

With that, he slams the glass door behind him and stops for a moment when he sees John B walking back in the front door before continuing up to his office. 

Rafe looks at JJ through his already busted eye, not willing to show any weakness. Deep down he knows what's about to happen is inevitable, but that doesn't mean he'll give the pogue the satisfaction. 

JJ closes the distance with lightning speed, his fist colliding against Rafe's nose with a sickening crack. Blood starts pouring instantly and the man groans loudly. 

JJ doesn't let him have any time to recover, pouncing on him and landing two more blows to his jaw and ribs. By the time John B joins, Rafe is almost unrecognizable. 

He's curled up on the ground clutching his stomach and John B looks over at his friend whose breathing heavily with blood splattered on his face. 

He decides JJ has done enough damage and opts to bend down to Rafe's level. 

"If you ever so much as look at my sister again, I will kill you without a second thought." He grits out before standing again and nodding for JJ to follow him. 

He pauses for a moment, wanting to add insult to injury. 

"Oh, and thanks for the watches."

They leave without another word and climb back into the Twinkie silently. 

"Shower when we get back, she doesn't need to see you like this." 

JJ nods and rubs his sore knuckles, already seeing the black and blue blossoming across them. They're only gone about an hour and Sarah is tackling John B in a hug before his feet even touch the ground. 

"Oh my god, are you okay?" She frets, hands frantically roaming his body to search for any sign of injury. 

"I'm fine, Sarah. I promise."

Meanwhile, JJ treks inside and heads straight for the bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror, finally letting everything sink in. He drops his head as his shoulders shake, hot tears falling into the sink below. 

He allows himself a moment before taking off his necklace and rings, stepping into the hot stream of water. He tilts his head back as the blood and grime are washed away, and feels more salty tears slip down his cheeks. 

He knows what it feels like to be beaten until you're numb day after day. He knows how it feels when a fist collides with an old bruise, replacing it with a new one. He wouldn't wish it upon anyone, least of all you. 

All he can think about is your frame cowered in the corner as you try to survive, crying and whimpering. 

He wonders if you ever cried out for him and the thought makes him punch the shower wall. He should have been there, he should have saved you. 

He briefly regrets not pulling the trigger. The only thing stopping him from doing it now is the fact that he'd go to prison, and leave you alone. He never wants to leave your side again. 

He finishes up his shower, scrubbing until the water runs clear, and steps out onto the bath rug. He wraps a towel around his waist and pads down to your room, creeping in as silently as he can. 

His feet shuffle over to your dresser and he pulls out a fresh pair of boxers and sweatpants. You always have clothes for him, sleeping over in your bed isn't a rare occurrence. 

He pulls them on and crawls back into your bed, sighing as his head hits the pillow. You seem to sense his presence and roll over to press your face into his bare chest, your legs tangling with his out of habit. 

He runs his hand through your hair, his arm wrapping around you to pull you tighter against him. His eyes flutter closed as he inhales your sweet scent, coconut shampoo mixed with perfume that smells like burnt sugar. 

It's familiar and comforting, and he tries to calm his heart rate as he grounds himself in your arms. You're here, you're safe, and he's never letting you go again. 

You mumble quietly, your eyes starting to peek open. 

"Shhh, go back to sleep, pretty girl. I'm right here, I'll always be right here. I promise."

He feels your lips press a soft kiss on his shoulder before your breathing evens out again and he stays up just watching you.

He's absolutely petrified that he'll wake up and you'll be gone, back in the arms of Rafe Cameron. So he doesn't sleep. 

It's not until four am when you reach up and gently swipe your hands over his eyes, forcing them shut, that he allows himself to get tired. 

"Go to sleep, JJ. I can hear the wheels turning in your head and it's keeping me up. I'll still be here."

He turns to lay on his back, pulling you with him so your body is practically on top of his. 

The weight of you soothes him, and finally, he starts to doze off. Everything is okay now, you're going to be okay. He'll make sure of it, even if it's the last thing he ever does.

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