#obx fics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

featherandferns · 14 days

Text

guilty as sin? (fic - part 1/2)

jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | largely inspired by the bible

content warning: sexual content; mentions of parental abuse (physical abuse) | any questions for trigger warnings, feel free to inbox anonymously

word count: 14k.

blurb: when you, John B's half sister, return to Kildare after over two years of living in Colorado, your adolescent crush that you harboured for his best friend comes screaming back. Because you and JJ can't be together in real life, what's the harm in a fantasy?

“And this is your room.”

The syrup-coloured wood is the first thing your eyes meet when John B pushes open the bedroom door. There’s the vague lingering smell of teenage boy which he’s tried to air out, the window open ajar, and the clutter of his belongings has been moved to make space for your own. As you drop your duffel bag and step into the room, you take in the walls. There’s posters and prints stuck above his bed, dotted around on slats of wood separating windows: someone surfing; a rockstar smashing his guitar. An old skateboard deck is nailed into the wall alongside a license plate. The sheets are bright blue, the bed freshly made, and a clean towel is folded up at the foot. It’s well-lit with plenty of daylight flowing through the many windows. Homely and inviting.

“Is it, uh, alright?”

You turn to find John B leaning against the doorframe, hands in his short pockets. Smiling, you nod.

“It’s perfect,” you tell him. “I’m honestly chill with crashing on the couch, though.”

It’s pretty obvious this was his room: you feel guilty kicking him out.

He shakes his head and gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “I moved into my dad’s room anyway. This has been the spare for a while.”

“Well, thanks,” you smile.

He nods, mirroring your content. “I’ll let you settle in and stuff. I moved all my crap out the closet so you can put your stuff in there, and the top bedside drawer is empty.”

“That’s perfect,” you say. You lift your bag with a grunt and dump it on the bed.

“I gotta go to work but call if you need anything. Shouldn’t be back too late.”

Unzipping your bag, you look to him. “Where’d you work?”

“Got this gig helping out at Ward Cameron’s. Don’t know if you remember him?”

“Course I do,” you snort. “The kingpin of Kildare, and your dad’s treasure hunting buddy.”

There’s a tense silence as your words catch up with you. You press your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“Shit, sorry. That didn’t come out how I meant it to.”

“It’s cool,” John B says, graciously gliding past it. “Anyway, he pays pretty good so can’t complain. Mostly just handy-man odd jobs.”

“Very noble work,” you joke.

With a quiet laugh, John B nods and backs out the door. He lingers another moment, contemplating saying something else. “Look, uh, I know it isn’t ideal circumstances, you coming back to Kildare and stuff, but I’m glad you’re here. Really. It’s nice having you back, sis.”

Your mood sobers, smile turning solemn.

“Thanks,” you quietly reply.

He nods once more and pats the doorframe in farewell. “Right, I’ll let you get unpacked. See you later.”

“See ya.”

When John B leaves – the front door shuddering against the house as it slams shut – you’re overcome with quiet. In Colorado, where you lived with your mom in the city, there was little nature. You forgot how peaceful Kildare is. Through the crack in the window, birdsong and cricket chimes accompany the sound of your unpacking. You turf out your clothes and take to putting them in the closet. Shoes and bags and bikinis. A jacket and a few sweatshirts. It was easy enough to plan for your outfits considering you’re only staying the summer. You remember the weather in Kildare well enough from when you used to live here.

Once you’ve unpacked your clothes, you find your paints. A box of watercolours which have seen much use and love, the hinges rusted and the inside of the palette smeared with dried mixed paint. Turning to the bedside table, you pull open the bottom drawer on accident. You come face to face with corny porno magazines, a box of tissues, two wrapped condoms and a half empty bottle of painkillers.

“Gross,” you mutter, slamming it shut. Yep, this was definitely a dude’s bedroom.

The top drawer is empty, like John B promised. You fill it with your paints and sketchbooks and pencils.

As the day ploughs on, the room becomes increasingly saturated with your personality. Postcards from Colorado, of the towns and cities you visited, photographs from school of your friends and classmates: you scatter them along them wall, amongst John B’s. Some of your favourite paintings, alongside artists which inspire you, join the mix. On the desk you add a few of your own books to the haphazard stack of abandoned homework and school reports.

At the bottom of your duffle bag is your penny board. You look around the room, searching for empty space to slot it without adding to already cluttered surroundings, and opt to slot it under the bed. Ducking down, you come face to face with a collection of empty beer cans. Clearly the spring cleaning only went so far. It’s noisy as you drag them out, but you’re certain you hear someone shouting. Pausing, sitting back on your haunches, you turn to peer out the open bedroom door. It’s silent for a moment, and then you hear footsteps.

“Yo! JB, you home?”

It’s a guy shouting. His voice sounds vaguely familiar. When he comes into the corridor, he glances into Big John’s bedroom (now claimed by your older half-brother) first. Blonde messy hair and well-worn combat boots instantly name him. JJ. He turns to the spare bedroom and stops short the moment his eyes land on you, sat amongst a pile of trash.

“You’re not John B,” he says.

“What gave me away?” you reply with a lift of your brows.

There’s a long awkward moment where he stares at you. You can practically hear the cogs turning as he takes you in. When you lift your arm up to scratch the back of your neck, realisation dawns upon him. You imagine your scar on the outside of your elbow gave you away.

“Holy crap! Little Routledge?” he gapes.

You laugh. “Haven’t been called that in a minute.”

JJ steps into the room and you get to your feet. He tackles you into a hug. It’s too short, too sudden, and then he’s stepping away from you again, leaving you dizzy on your feet.

“The fuck? You’re, like, grown now,” he says.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “well, I am sixteen.”

“The fuck!” he repeats. He then takes in where you’re standing, and the state of the room, and frowns. “Wait, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Colorado with your mom?”

“I was,” you say. You kick one of the cans out the way and fold your arms over your chest, shrugging. “I came back for the summer.”

“Oh, that’s sick!”

You laugh. It’s a nice reaction to have from someone who you haven’t seen for over two years.

“John B gave you his old room then?”

He walks into it as if it’s his own. You watch as he studies the new additions to the wall that you’ve added. Lingers on one of your paintings.

"Yeah, he’s moved into his dad’s, apparently.”

“Yeah, he moved in there a while ago,” JJ tells you. “I’ve been sleeping in here most of the time.”

Your mind flashes back to the bedside drawer stocked with teenage boy necessities. Ah, makes sense. You remember how JJ was when you were a dorky thirteen-year-old. At the ripe age of fourteen, he had girls fawning after him. He was shameless in his reputation. The conversations you overheard between himself and John B as he’d brag about his escapades are seared into your memory, as you felt your wasted preteen heart splinter with every tale. It’s no surprise now that he’s probably just as unruly. Especially considering how he looks. There isn’t much time to ogle though because he’s looking away from the décor, meeting your gaze again.

“That explains all the empty beer cans, then,” you say.

He cringes. “Yeah, uh, sorry ‘bout that.”

You shrug. “It’s cool. I need to toss ‘em out but I don’t know where the trash bags are…”

“Oh, right,” he says, breezing past you. His cologne lingers in the air when he leaves. There’s the smallest moment for you to catch your breath as JJ bangs around in the kitchen, and then he reappears with a roll of black bags. Tosses them to you and you catch. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

You begin to shove the cans into the bag and JJ starts to help. His black button-up gapes open as he leans over and it takes everything not to glance down his shirt like some pervert.

“How come you didn’t want to stay in Colorado for the summer, then?”

“Change of scenery,” you vaguely reply. It isn’t a complete lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either.

“Well, you chose the best summer to come back. Our mission this year is to have the best summer of all time.”

“Pretty lofty goal to set,” you chuckle.

JJ glances up at you, flashing you a grin. “Nah, we got it in the bag.”

You find yourself smiling back, held captive under his stare. When he takes the now full trash bag off you, tying it off, you snap out of it.

“So, where’s your brother at then?” he asks, heading out the room. You follow.

“At work. Said he does jobs for Cameron now.”

“Oh, yeah. Cameron sorta took him under his wing after his dad…went missing,” JJ replies.

You have a feeling that the way people talk about John B’s father is rather doctored.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” you tell him, referring to Big John.

As you step on the porch, the sunlight warms your face. The floorboards creak as you make your way down them, to the garbage can outside.

“It was insane,” JJ says to you. He tosses the trash away. “I mean, we all knew Big John was a bit too into the whole royal-merchant thing but…we never thought it’d go that far, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Scary.”

JJ looks at you a moment longer. Then, he laughs to himself and shakes his head. “Can’t believe you’re sixteen now.”

“Can’t believe you’re seventeen.”

“What? I look good or something?”

He does a small spin on the spot, arms held out by his sides. You roll your eyes, acting as if you’re unaffected. It’s hard to swallow the reflex reaction of yes.

“Or something,” you say.

JJ takes it in stride. “Well, you look pretty cute yourself considering you’ve been in the mountains for the last three years.”

“I don’t live in the mountains,” you snort. The word ‘cute’ rattles around your head like a pinball.

“You’re taller now too. Practically come up to my shoulders. I remember when me and John B could pick you up by your ankle like a marlin.”

“Yeah, I remember that too,” you not-so-fondly recall.

JJ grins and steps over to you. Despite both of your growth spurts, you still have to look up at him, and him down at you. His eyes are just as dreamy as you remember them. When you first left for Colorado, you hardly had time to pack. In the midst of chaos, taking a picture of your brother’s best friend didn’t seem all that important. Cut to you spending endless nights trying to remember his eyes, the exact colour and the exact shape. Trying to remember the dimples that popped out when he smiled. The pure joy in his laugh. The way your heart felt like it might explode whenever he looked at you, even if it were for a second.

But when JJ pats your head, your chest deflates.

“Well, see you around, little Routledge,” he says, stepping away. “Tell your brother I was looking for him.”

Because even after all these years, you’re still just John B’s little sister in JJ’s eyes.

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

You stare into your can of cider. In the night, the only light being that from the bonfire John B started up in the backyard, you can’t make out the colour of it. Just the swirling of liquid. You’d spent the last three days working on a watercolour of the marsh side to John B’s house, but you couldn’t capture the movement of the water quite right.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Pope frowns.

“What’s there to be confused about, Pope?” JJ sighs, seemingly exhausted from the questions. There had been an influx of them the minute John B brought you out of the Chateau. “His mom shagged her dad and boom, here she is.”

“Charming mental images there, JJ, thanks,” John B cringes.

You laugh into your drink.

“No, I get that. But…You used to live here, right?” Pope asks you.

You nod.

“But then you moved to Colorado?”

“Yeah?”

“But now you’re back here?”

“Apparently,” you say.

Pope’s frown deepens: apparently that cleared nothing up for him. You’ve never known someone so analytical. “This is complicated,” he observes.

“No shit,” Kiara quips.

It was complicated. Families usually are. You and John B had different dads, in short. Your shared mom cheated on Big John when John B was hardly a year old, putting you around 11 or so months behind him. She ran off to Raleigh with your dad to try and fix their tumultuous relationship, leaving you with Big John for practically thirteen years. Whilst he wasn't unkind to you, he never saw you as his. You supposed you were a reminder of his ex-wife's unfaithfulness. But John B treated you like blood, as did his friends.

Just after your thirteen birthday, your mom decided to flee the state, and she was taking you with her. It all came out of the blue. You weren’t exactly thrilled to go to Colorado. You liked Kildare, and North Carolina, and John B and his friends. Kiara was always nice to you. She never talked down to you, despite you being seen as John B’s little sister. You bonded over turtles and Bob Marley. JJ was different. He’d prank you with John B and tease you about your dolls, but he’d also patch you up if you fell and calm you down after a nightmare. Your crush on him evolved naturally over time. What started as childhood infatuation with the supposed delinquent of Kildare became real. You liked JJ. He was funny and rambunctious, but he had a kindness and tenderness that he kept hidden below. He was often at the house as his own family situation was far from perfect, so having him around became as familiar as John B’s presence. When you left, JJ gave you a hug that you wished would last a lifetime.

But you drifted away in Colorado. You didn’t have anybody’s phone number, save for Big John’s (which your mom refused to let you use), and you were too young to remember addresses to write to them. Social media was never something you latched onto and eventually it all faded away into a strange, dreamlike memory. Being back here is almost proof that you didn’t imagine the whole thing.

“We’re half siblings,” you say, whittling down your family history into a simple statement. “That’s all you really need to know.”

“Damn straight,” JJ whoops, downing the last of his drink. He crunches the can in his fist and heads to the cooler for another.

“You’re staying for the whole summer then?” Kiara asks.

You nod. “I’m tryna get a job at this restaurant in town to keep me busy.”

“Screw that. Just come smoke and surf with us all day, that’ll keep you occupied,” JJ grins.

He’s comfortable in himself, relaxing in a lawn chair, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. His t-shirt represents one of Kildare’s small-town establishments and his shorts are stained with dust and dirt from riding his bike.

“She’s the good one out of us lot,” John B announces, gesturing to you. “Out of all the Routledge offspring, she’s gonna go places. You’re not gonna taint that, JJ.”

“And by ‘all the Routledge offspring’ you mean yourself and her?” Pope checks.

John B nods fervently. “I’m telling you! She’s madly talented.”

“You’re drunk; it’s giving you beer goggles,” you dismiss, finishing your drink.

“You were always the creative one,” JJ remarks. Everyone looks over to him. “Me and John B would be out on the water and she’d be drawing it.”

“Maybe you can show us some of your stuff,�� Kiara says.

You laugh and shake your head. “Maybe not.”

The alcohol wizzes up your body as you get to your feet and you take it as a good time to call it quits.

“I think I’m gonna head in.”

“What?”

“No!”

“Come on!”

You laugh, shaking off the group’s disputes. “I’m tired!”

“Lightweight,” JJ teases. You flip him off as you pass, ditching your empty can in the garbage as you go.

“Night guys!” you holler as you head back into the house.

“Night!”

The bedroom John B offered you is starting to feel less like a guest house. You shrug off your cardigan – it stinks of smoke from the fire – and close the door. Through the window, you can hear the group chattering.

Pope seems nice. He hadn’t been around when you lived in Kildare, but you recognised his name. Heyward was a legend on the Cut; you could see his dad in his eyes. Kiara was just as you remembered her, if not more consumed by her environmental activism than before. JJ was the most staggering change of all. He’d grown into his looks, matured around the face. Any puppy fat that you remembered from childhood had vanished. Lithe and lively, he was an American heartthrob, through and through.

As you do your skincare, you glance out the window. You can make out JJ, sat with his back to you. His arms are flailing around as he tells a story. You can’t make out the details through the window but the looks on everyone’s faces tells you it’s pretty damn entertaining. He was always the joker, humour hiding whatever was happening underneath like he was arming himself with a grin. The unexplained bruises on his face and the painful batterings on his body were never explained whenever he’d stay at Big John’s, when you were younger.

The moment he shifts in his seat, you dart away from the window, scared to get caught, and finish getting ready for bed.

A bad dream rouses you awake. It was about Colorado. The warped memories keep you from falling back asleep, no matter how hard you try. Sighing, you stare at the ceiling. The room is bathed in moonlight, cosy in the wooden interior, and you contemplate sitting outside for a bit. The same cardigan from earlier gets pulled on over your vest top and you slip into some crocs.

You head for the front door, creeping past John B’s room, and step onto the porch. There’s a warm, humid air in the night. The crickets and owls harmonise with the faint buzz of mosquitos who surround the porch light. That’s when you realise that it’s already on, and you’re not alone. JJ’s on the porch, laid out on the sofa. He’s smoking a joint. The smell of weed merges into that of the dying embers from the abandoned, extinguished bonfire. You rap gently on the wall as you approach, hoping not to startle him.

“Hey,” he says, looking up at the sound.

“Hey.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“No,” you say. “I thought everyone went home.”

“They did. I’m crashing here tonight. My dad’s…”

He falters, glances up at you, and shakes his head.

“Don’t need to bore you with it.”

“You’re not boring,” you hear yourself tell him.

Smiling, JJ offers the joint to you. You take it, sitting down in the red armchair at the foot of the sofa. The weed consumes your senses when you take a drag, hitting the back of your throat and dulling your thoughts.

“Haven’t smoked in ages,” you say.

“Big smoking community out in Colorado?” JJ asks.

You laugh. “Not where I live, no.”

He takes the joint back when you lean over to him. Tilts his head back as he takes another hit. He’s in the same clothes as earlier, hasn’t even taken off his boots; his hair is tousled like he tried to sleep but couldn’t. You’re caught in the act of staring at him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even make a joke. Instead, he holds your gaze. It’s almost like a silent challenge: who’ll break first?

“Can I say something kinda inappropriate?” he asks.

“I feel like you have to, now.”

JJ grins at that, amused. “You’re way cuter than I remember you.”

“Oh? You mean sweaty thirteen-year-old, chalk-highlight-pink-hair wasn’t cute?” you joke.

Shaking his head, he adds, “No. Well, yeah, but not in the way you are now.”

Your stomach tightens and heart constricts, and you wish you had the joint to have something to distract yourself with. You hope you sound calm and collected when you say, “thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” JJ jokes. He takes another long, deep drag. “Is it nice? Being back in Kildare?”

You glance off to the marsh. You forgot to check the time when you got up but judging from the endless navy blue of the sky, it’s still late.

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

You look back to him. “It’s better than Colorado.”

“So, you’re not missing home then?”

The blunt is passed back to you. Taking a drag, you ponder his question. “I don’t think I know where home is right now. I don’t think it’s Colorado, but I don’t know if it’s here either. Maybe I don’t have one.”

JJ doesn’t say anything and you remember yourself. Laughing self-deprecatingly, you shake your head.

“Sorry, think this joint’s going to my head. That was dramatic.”

“No, no, I get ya,” JJ assures. “I know what you mean.”

“You don’t like Kildare?” you ask him.

His expression darkens like a shadow has cast over him. “It depends.”

“Hm,” you say. Nothing more is said on the matter. You get the sense that JJ was vague on purpose.

Pulling your legs into your seat, you glance around at the clutter on the porch. A surfboard is lent against the nett lining of the porch; a rusting duck ornament balances on one of the beams. What looks to be a broken radio sits beside a half-full bottle of rum on a small table by the couch.

“I think it’s good for John B, having you back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” JJ smiles. “He sorta spun out when his dad disappeared. You’re kinda the only family he has left.”

“You’re his family too. Been around longer than I have,” you tell him.

JJ’s smile softens. He glances away from you, fiddling with the paper of the joint, almost as if he’s flustered. “Thanks.”

“So,” you say, “you got some poor girl on this island falling after you?”

“Rude of you to assume there’s only one,” JJ grins wickedly.

You roll your eyes.

“What about you? Some West Coast jock waiting for you back in the home state?”

The sarcastic ‘har har’ that he gets has JJ frowning, bemused.

“Definitely no guy, and definitely no jock.”

“Now that I find hard to believe,” JJ says.

Before you can ask what he means by that, or spiral out by thinking too much about it, JJ’s getting to his feet. He puts the blunt out on the window ledge, ditching the empty butt in a filthy dish. Stretching his arms over his head, sighing, you watch as his t-shirt rides up. The tensing of his abdominal muscles is like torture. God, to run your hands up his chest, over his shoulders, tangle them in the salt-soaked strands of his hair…

“Right, night Little Routledge,” JJ says.

You blink away from his chest and meet his gaze. There’s a strange expression on his face, one you don’t recognise, and you want to scrutinise it and find out what it means. But it’s gone in a flash, as is he as he heads back into the house. You watch through the window as his silhouette drops onto the pull-out sofa.

It takes a minute to regain your composure.

You can’t think of JJ like that. He certainly doesn’t think of you like that, and that childhood crush has long been put to bed. Shaking it awake is the last thing you need right now. Besides, he’s John B’s best friend. Your brother’s best friend. The same brother who’s taken you back into his house, offered you a room, free of charge, without complaint or question. And it seems like John B needs as many people around him as possible right now. But it’s hard to maintain that line of thought, when as you lie back down in your bed, desperate to get some sleep, you can vividly picture the slit of JJ’s chest that you were privy to just moments ago when you close your eyes.

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

You follow Tom through the restaurant. He’s the supervisor, eighteen and a fresh high school graduate. It’s hard to keep up with him as he points things out: waiter’s station; kitchen; storeroom…You’d forgotten how overwhelming job orientations can be.

“And this,” he pushes a door open, “is the staff room.”

You glance in and take in the messy pile of shoes, the overflowing trash can, and the three coat pegs overwhelmed with bags and hoodies.

“Love what you’ve done with the space.”

Tom laughs. He closes the door and leans against the doorframe. Broad shouldered, he stands taller than you by a couple inches.

“So, what made you want to work here?”

“I’m really interested in not being broke,” you reply, making him laugh.

“You new to the island? Feel like I haven’t seen you around?”

“This island that small?”

“Or you’re just that unforgettable,” he smoothly returns.

Your face fires up. Laughing nervously, you shift your stance. “I just moved in with my half-brother for the summer. Need something to keep me busy for a few months.”

“Ah, sweet. Anyone I’d know?”

“Dunno,” you say. He starts back into the main restaurant building. They haven’t opened yet. It’s void of life. “John B Routledge?”

“Oh shit, yeah. JB,” he says, flashing you a grin.

He’s charming in a disarming way. The kind of face that a modelling agency would swipe up because of his easy marketability.

When the two of you approach the bar, there’s a girl stood polishing wine glasses. She looks to be about your age, maybe a couple of years older. Her smile is sweet and welcoming like warm hot chocolate on a winter’s night.

“Hey, Lizzy. This is the new starter,” Tom introduces.

“I’m guessing I got the job then?” you ask him. He nods. With that, you offer a hand to Lizzy.

“Nice to meet ya,” she says, shaking it. “Could do with more girls around here.”

“Happy to help,” you reply.

“So, you think you can cover a shift tomorrow night? I figured cause you’ve waitressed before it shouldn’t take too long for you to learn the ropes here,” Tom says.

You nod. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says.

You bid farewell to himself and Lizzy, seeing yourself out the front door. The restaurant is in the heart of the cut, surrounded by other small businesses and hipster start-ups. You begin the journey home, plugging in your headphones and submerging yourself in Reggae music. Children play in the local park and preteens chatter as they speed past you on their bikes. There’s a warm breeze that brushes past you; it smells of sea water and fried fish. You’re passing the harbour. Eyes land on Heyward’s store, the logo just as you remember it from all those years ago. It’s surreal being back.

When your phone buzzes, you pause your sightseeing to check it. It might be John B asking after the interview. Your throat closes up when you see your mom’s contact pop up. A text. ‘Call me back.’

Just like that, you’re dragged out of Kildare and are back in Colorado.

It’s impossible to ignore the text, but you do your best either way. You don’t even remember half the journey to the Chateau as you walk through the door. JJ is home. He’s sat at the messy dining table, eating a bowl of cereal and scrolling through his phone. Tugging out your earbuds, you give a small wave hello.

“How’d the interview go? That was today, right?”

“Smashed it. Got the job,” you say.

“Oh, sweet. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

You ditch your bag by the door along with your phone. Taking the seat opposite him, you sit cross-legged on the wooden chair. The sketchbook you’d abandoned earlier lays dormant. Opening it up, you flick to your latest piece of the marsh. It’s coming together rather well. You’d decided to add the H.M.S Pogue, sat harboured on the grass. JJ peers over his bowl to the painting.

“Holy shit. That’s sick,” he says through his mouthful of Captain Crunch.

“Thanks,” you smile. “I’m pretty happy with how it’s come out, considering how old these paints are.”

JJ watches as you crack open the aforementioned watercolours. The smell of artificial paint teases the air. Dampening a thin brush in the mason jar of water, you dip into the blue.

“They bad quality or something?”

“A little. They best ones are Winsor and Newton, but I can’t justify spending over twenty bucks on paints.”

“Why not? You’ve clearly got a gift,” JJ says.

You hate how casual he is when he says things like that to you. Like it doesn’t knock the breath out of you like a sucker punch to the chest.

“S’just practice,” you mumble.

You can feel his gaze as you paint. Resting your chin in your hand, you work at the water under the jetty, trying to perfect the shading. You want to feel as though you can walk into the painting; like you could drown in the crystal clean waves.

Painting had become an escape when you were in Colorado. Whatever you could remember of Kildare, you’d paint. When that well ran dry, you began to paint places you wished you could go. Anywhere but the dilapidating family home you’d found yourself in. Secret gardens made of twisting ivy and crumbling, ornate statues hidden amongst orchids and rose bushes. Cosmic planes with make-believe ice cream stations snuck onto Mars and Venus; whales which bathed in the stars and caught a tan in moonbeams. Underwater societies full of sea kelp and multicoloured coral reefs, with octopi hiding amongst crabs and shellfish.

You glance up to find JJ transfixed on the painting. There’s a crease between his brows as if he’s the one concentrating. It makes you laugh, quiet and under breath, and he looks up. Holds your stare.

“That’s amazing, that you can just do that,” JJ says, remarking to your work.

You swallow the sickly rush that his words give you. His tongue dampens his lower lip, tantalisingly slow. You feel it hit somewhere deep inside of you. Something in the air shifts.

Then, so quiet neither of you can be sure he really said it, he utters, “you’re amazing.”

“Yo!”

The door swings open with your brother’s arrival. Your head spins over your shoulder to the front door. John B stands holding a bag of takeout burgers in the air beside his head.

“Y’all hungry?”

“Hell yeah,” JJ says.

When you look to him, it feels as if you could have imagined the whole interaction had just moments ago. JJ’s sat in his seat as he was before, unfazed.

He abandons his cereal and follows John B into the kitchen like a starving dog, begging for food. You place your paintbrush back into the water and join them. John B unpacks the burgers and fries onto half-clean plates. You watch JJ toss a fry into the air and catch it, whooping in celebration. A plate is handed back to you, over John B’s shoulder.

“Beef burger with cheese, no pickles.”

“Thank you,” you sing-song, taking the plate off him.

JJ turns around and looks at you with faux disgust. “No pickles?”

You shake your head, heading back to the table. JJ and John B join you with their own quick dinners, and the three of you eat. You tell John B about the summer job you secured, and he tells you and JJ about Sarah Cameron and her new boy-toy Topper. JJ says he’s “biceps without a brain” when you ask which one Topper is.

“That can’t be his real name,” you snort.

“Oh, it is,” John B replies.

“His name is almost as dumb as he is,” JJ sniggers.

There’s the sound of chewing and swallowing.

“Two official weeks into summer,” John B randomly announces.

You quirk a brow. “Two weeks since I came back to Kildare.”

JJ holds his cup of soda up in a toast. John B wipes his mouth and raises his own, as do you. The three of you clink cups, smiling at the stupidity. As you bring your cup to your lips to drink, you find your eyes meeting JJ’s across the table. He holds your gaze as he sips, swallows and licks his lips of the sugar. You feel it hit somewhere deep, deep inside of you. JJ looks back to John B and starts recounting his tales of the day fishing, leaving you stumped.

What the hell was that?

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

As your days in Kildare stretch on, your imagination becomes your most loved and loathed place all at once.

The Pogues had taken you under their wing without a second thought. It felt as if it wasn’t just because you were John B’s younger sister. Kiara would spend hours talking to you about music and star signs. Pope would discuss books and artists that he’d read about, falling into a huge debate about whether Andy Warhol is as legendary as everyone makes him out to be (the answer is, of course, yes). You and John B connected as brother and sister, filling that hole of ‘family’ that had been taken from both of you within the past year. Movie nights sharing popcorn and critiquing corny horror films, and mornings spent tending to the yard and fishing at the jetty: you felt yourself coming back bit by bit, in the company of the brunette.

But spending time with the Pogues came with spending more time with JJ. That little childhood crush that you’d claimed had succumb a long, undisturbed slumber…Oh, she had been awoken. Him staying over more and more on the pull-out when him and his dad ‘got into a thing’ meant the throw pillows smelt like his cologne and soap. He’d offer you his sweatshirt when sat around the bonfire on evenings drinking, and the warm distinct smell of him would consume you, drown you in the pheromones, affecting you like some pathetic animal in heat. Days spent surfing and sunbathing at the break gave you space to shamelessly ogle his bare chest, splattered in sea water, scorched and tanned with sunlight. The ripple of his lats when wearing his useless muscle tees as he waxed his board in the surf shack. His jawline strong and steely when annoyed or focused, with faint blonde stubble a week after shaving. But you swear he knew how it affected you. Swear he knew it drove you crazy whenever he’d fleetingly touch your back, brushing past you in the kitchen to grab a drink, or adjust your grip when helping him fix up his bike. When sharing a blunt on the porch (as you often did when sleep couldn’t come), he’d take his time passing it to you, fingers brushing. Innocent, incidental touches that felt calculated and planned. The way his eyes would gaze into yours, like he could read your thoughts and decipher your wants. A vague, barely-there smirk to his lips, constantly tortured by his tongue and teeth…

God, your whole body feels as if it has been on fire for the past week.

You blame your overactive thoughts of JJ on your boredom. Working at the restaurant hadn’t been sufficient distraction from the mess that is your life right now. Even now, as you stand before the till, typing through an order for the kitchen and bar, you feel your mind wandering. To thoughts of the Chateau, and to a certain blonde-haired guy sprawled on the pull-out sofa, shirtless, back on proud display…

“You gonna be much longer?”

“No, I shouldn’t be,” you say to Tom.

You hope your embarrassment doesn’t read on your face. It’s not as if he could hear your thoughts, so you’re not sure why you feel caught in the act. You finish selecting the sides for table 16 and press ‘store table’. Stepping to the side to grab some side plates, Tom takes over the till.

He’s nice. Makes you laugh a lot at work, as you slander rude tables and gush over those that tip an extra twenty.

After depositing the side plates at the table, you head to the bar to run the drinks you put through. Lizzy is mixing the cocktail you ordered. She pours rum into a shaker and then passionfruit puree.

“Can I ask you something?” you say to her.

She glances over. The two of you had gotten closer at work. You were hoping to hang out with her one time down at the beach, or maybe grab lunch after a morning shift. She runs a hand over her buzzcut hair style and nods.

“Do you think there’s such a thing as bad thoughts?”

“Bit deep to be asking that at eight o’clock at night, don’t you think?” she smirks.

You roll your eyes. As she goes on making the cocktail, you elaborate. “I have this dumbass crush on this guy which I know I shouldn’t have…I just feel bad for thinking about him so much.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” she snorts.

There’s the loud rattle of ice against stainless steel as Lizzy shakes the cocktail. Then, as she strains it into a martini glass, she looks up at you once more.

“Who’s this guy? Do I know him?”

“Maybe.”

Her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Is it Tom?”

And, no, it isn’t Tom, but maybe saying it is means she won’t keep digging. You’d rather keep your embarrassing years-long infatuation with your brother’s best friend close to the chest. So, you do your best to look meek as you nod.

“Holy shit! Well, if it makes you feel better, he’s totally into you,” Lizzy tells you.

“He is?”

“Hell yeah. Guy practically ogles you across the room,” she says.

You glance over to Tom. He’s stood before a table, talking away, scribbling down their order on a notepad. At the feeling of being watched, he looks up and meets your gaze. You flash him a small smile and he mirrors it quickly before returning his focus to the task at hand.

“So, do you?”

“Think there’s such a thing as bad thoughts?” Lizzy checks. You nod. She ponders the question whilst garnishing the cocktail. “No. No, I think only actions talk. I mean, I think bad things all the time about customers who are dicks. I could put glass in their drinks: that’d show them sort of thing. But I don’t actually put glass in their drinks, so I’m off the hook. Nobody’s the wiser.”

It’s a somewhat extreme example but it gets the point across. You take the tray and nod.

“I mean, maybe fantasising about it might be cathartic. Get it out your system, you know?” Her sly wink speaks volumes as to what these ‘fantasies’ are about. You roll your eyes.

“Thank you for your advice, Lizz. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Anytime sunshine.”

With that, you walk over table 16 and deliver their drinks. The rest of the shift passes by rather quickly. You end up making a bet with Tom that you can sell more pints of larger than him and come up victorious, leaving work with an extra ten dollars in your pockets.

The streets are painted sunset purple, orange and pink. You spot John B’s campervan, known as The Twinkie, in the parking lot; he’d promised to pick you up after work tonight. But as you walk up to the passenger side, you realise it’s JJ behind the wheel. You’re not sure if the feeling of your organs shrinking is a good thing or a bad thing.

“Where’s John B?” you ask, climbing in beside him.

“Nice way to say, ‘hi JJ, it’s so good to see you!’”

“Okay, hi JJ,” you say, rolling your eyes. He starts the engine. “Now, where’s my brother?”

“He had to go do something for Cameron.”

“At ten at night?”

“Dude, I just work here, a’right? I do as he says so he lets me stay on his sofa,” JJ says. You laugh.

The radio kicks on and ‘Downtown Lights’ starts to play. You look out the window as he drives, watching the houses fade into overgrow and trees.

“Hey, you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“We can swing by a Wendy’s on the way home, if you wanna,” JJ says.

You smile as you look over to him, nodding. With that, he takes the next left and the two of you make your way in comfortable silence to the drive through. At the worker’s request, JJ recounts his order: two hamburgers, both with cheese, one without pickles. Oh and a large Pepsi.

As he pulls forward to pay, you say, “you remembered I don’t like pickles?”

He glances over to you like you’re stupid for even asking. “Course.”

Food secured, Pepsi in the cupholder for you both to share, you start the journey to the Chateau.

“Feed me a fry?”

You laugh and oblige. It’s the least you can do, considering he bought you takeout, after all. You turf one out the brown paper bag and hold up to his lips. His breath fans against your fingers as he takes it. Chews and swallows. You managed to tear your eyes away. That man could yawn and you’d be mesmerised, you swear. It’s pathetic.

“Thanks.”

“Course.”

The ride back is over way too soon. You take what’s left of your food and your bag, opening the door. “You staying over tonight?”

JJ contemplates a moment before shaking his head. He studies his hands as they run up and over the steering wheel when he says, “no. No, I gotta go home sometime.”

“Right,” you quietly say. The last fight him and his dad got in was ugly. He came over, shaking with anger, a purple bruise forming under his eye. It scared the shit out of you to let him go back there alone. “Well, thanks for the food.”

JJ looks up from the steering wheel and takes you in. His lips move, like he wants to say something, but he seems to abandon the thought. You take it as your cue to leave.

“See you soon.”

“Yeah. See you soon, Little Routledge.”

You hate that nickname. The resentment is thick to swallow as you say goodnight, stepping out the van.

John B isn’t home when you walk into the Chateau. The lights are off, dirty dishes piled up in the sink. The sofa bed is unmade from the last time JJ slept on it. You contemplate crashing on it for the night, just so you can feel as if you’re near to him, but you know that’s insane. If John B were to find you there, he’d only be concerned that something was wrong with your own room, either way. So you trundle back to your bedroom and strip out of your uniform. Makeup rinsed off and teeth brushed, you crawl into bed and drift off easily.

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

His lips are hot and wet on your skin, kissing down your stomach. Your breathing’s laboured like you’re fighting an adrenaline rush. He seems to notice, laughing darkly against your tummy.

“So wound up already and I’ve barely touched you,” JJ croons in his southern drawl.

Your eyes slip shut, fighting back a whimper as his fingers dip teasingly into the waistband of your panties. A moan finally lets slip at the sensation of his lips pressing against your crotch, over the cotton.

“You want it?”

“Please,” you whisper.

“Yeah? You want my mouth?”

“Yes, JJ, please.”

It’s embarrassing to beg but you don’t have much left in your mind other than thoughts of him to even care.

Fingers knotting into his hair, you try and coax him lower still. And he obliges. Drags your panties down your legs like time is a luxury. You wonder if he likes teasing you; if it brings him pleasure like the feeling of his hands on your body does for you. He leans back on his haunches and runs his palms up and down your thighs, staring at you exposed pussy. His shark tooth necklace sits against his toned chest and you’re jealous of how close it gets to be to him.

“Fuck,” JJ groans as you open your legs.

He leans back down and nuzzles your inner thigh, pressing a sharp kiss with his teeth, sucking in the skin and relishing your pleasured yelp. It feels as if he’s marking you as he leaves the hickey: mine.

“Been dreaming ‘bout this.”

Before you can let out another pathetic plea, JJ situates himself between your legs and goes down on you. Eats you out like a man who’s been lost at sea, like a man starved. Sighs at the taste of you on his tongue, kissing at your thighs as if to catch his breath, dragging you closer and closer to the edge. The damp of his tongue laps at your clit and your legs lock around him in a vice. He’s indefatigable, insatiable and…it’s too much.

“I can’t,” you whine hopelessly. Your fingers grasp at the sheets, eyes clenched shut.

“Come on,” JJ preens. “Wanna see you come.”

He leans close to your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth, and slips a finger into your seeping hole. Your orgasm comes like waves crashing over splintered rocks; breathing jagged and vision blurring behind eyelids. Somewhere in the euphoric haze you cry out his name. Flashes of colour blending into a mercurial high as he works you through your ecstasy, unrelenting.

You gasp awake.

Had you been sleeping?

Your forehead is damp with sweat, throat parched and chest heaving. Anyone would have thought you’d have just sprinted three miles. When you sit up in bed, you register the pulsing between your legs and the telltale stickiness of your thighs.

Shit. Good thing there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.

Wiping at your face, your skin feels red hot. You venture to the bathroom and drink water from the faucet. Making eye contact with yourself is too hard right now, considering you just had the most incredible wet dream about your brother’s best friend. Now that the high is passing, you’re overcome with shame and guilt. You’re delusional. Maybe you should submit yourself to be sectioned. Would be a good way to kill some of these summer weeks…

Heading back to bed feels like returning to the scene of a crime. Instead, you head out onto the porch, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and panties. John B’s a deep sleeper, you’ve come to learn. You’ve never heard him get up in the night, in all your moments of insomnia. There’s no risk of crossing paths with him out here.

Stepping out onto the paint-peeled floorboards, you notice he forgot to turn off the porch light when he came home. Great, I guess I know where my wage is going. But as you head to your favourite red armchair, ready to gaze out at the marsh and watch the waterside plants dance in the breeze, you freeze.

JJ’s on the sofa. And he’s awake. You can tell just from where you’re stood.

Before you can flee back to your room, the floorboard creaks. JJ jolts up and looks around, eyes landing on you. You swallow. The moment you lay eyes on him, part of your dream comes screaming back to you. The way your voice cracked as you cried out his name, tumbling over the edge. You quickly shun away the thoughts, slamming them closed in a box, before your body can lose itself to the fantasy once more. Please God tell me that I didn’t actually scream his name.

“Hi,” you dumbly say.

“Hey.”

“I thought you were staying at your place tonight,” you say.

JJ shrugs. “Change of plans, I guess.”

“Oh.”

He looks back ahead at the armchair, back to you, and you can’t help but pull a face akin to holy shit what the fuck do I do? When he holds up a joint, you decide to stay. Panties are just the same as a bikini anyway, and he’s seen you in those. You make sure to wear your cutest ones when he’s surfing with you. The ones that are tight in all the right places and hug your figure in a way that you wished he would. Oh my God, shut up. You wordlessly take the joint as you quickly step past him, planting yourself in the armchair. You pull your legs up and sit atop of them, taking a long drag to try and calm your racing mind and heart. Inspecting the floor seems a good thing to do, suddenly. The divots in the wood from worms and the strips of paint. Looking up, you find JJ’s eyes trained on your legs. His gaze diverts when you lean forward, offering him the blunt again. As he lifts himself to take it, you see him wince, and now in the light of the porch, fully taking him in you, you can make out the bloody cut beside his eye.

“Jesus Christ, JayJ.”

“It’s fine,” he reflexively says. He takes another hit. “Just need some self-medication.”

“Bullshit. You need to clean that thing ‘fore it gets infected.”

“Be my guest,” JJ scoffs.

With that, you get to your feet and head back into the house. The first aid kit is under the bathroom sink. It’s probably the least dusty thing in the whole room. Returning to him, you forget all about the reason that you got up in the first place and shove it to the back of your mind. This was more important than worrying about some dumb dream. Shoving his legs off the couch, you force him to make space for you. You place the first aid kit on your lap and open it. JJ keeps smoking. The smell of weed clouds your senses. Picking out a disinfectant wipe, you turn to him.

“This’ll sting,” you say, opening the packet.

“That’s what she said.”

You frown. “What kind of kinky ass sex are you having?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he grins.

For a moment dread drops down your body, chilling your spine. Did he hear you? No, no he couldn’t have. You probably didn’t make a noise. He’s just being his usual, salacious self.

You take his jawline in hold gently between your fingers. The bone is hard beneath the soft of his skin; fine stubble scratches your fingertips. Leaning up, you try not to get distracted in his eyes as you dab at the cut. You apologise as he hisses. It doesn’t look as intimidating when clean of blood, which is more than a relief. You dip back into the first aid kit and offer up two band aids. One is plain nude and the other Hello Kitty.

“Take your pick.”

He rolls his eyes with a small smile and grabs the Hello Kitty one, holding it out to you. You shift onto your knees, bending over him to plant it over his cut. You notice a bruise forming on his cheek bone on the other side, and a cut lip. You should have insisted he stayed over when he dropped you off. He looks up, as if he can hear your thoughts, and meets your gaze. You can’t seem to find it in yourself to move away.

“It’s not your fault,” he quietly says.

You swallow. It’s scary how easy he can read you. Makes you worry what other thoughts he can tell from your face. “Wished you just stayed here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hate the thought of you going back to that house.”

“That’s sweet,” he smiles. “But if I didn’t go, I wouldn’t have you here taking care of me.”

“Oh, was it all part of your masterplan?” you joke, finding your smile again. His seems to grow at the sight.

“Something like that.”

When his lips press to yours, you’re taken aback. It feels like fire, searing hot, and you flinch like you’ve been burnt. You gape at him, wide eyed, and it seems to register what he’s just done. You both move to put as much space between you as possible, as if trying to keep the blaze from spreading.

“Shit, I—”

“I should go back to bed,” you hurry out.

JJ nods. “Yeah, yeah. Course.”

In your scramble to get back to your feet and back in your room, the first aid kit falls to the floor, the contents spilling out. You cuss and drop to your knees, rushing to retrieve all the clutter. JJ joins you, passing you gloves and bandages. You find some nerve to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says. The sincerity in his voice…It’s painful.

“It’s okay. I don’t…It isn’t…”

You sigh. Your speech is just as messed as your mind. Closing your eyes, gathering your words, you take a deep breath. Looking back to JJ, you shake your head.

“We can’t.”

“I know,” he replies, almost sadly. Nods once more. “Yeah, I know. I’m just…high. And tired.”

“Right. Course.”

And whilst his excuses should sting, they don’t, because you don’t believe them. JJ smokes enough weed to not be affected all that much by half a joint. But you don’t argue. Instead, you close the box and go to head inside. You stop in the doorway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say.

You spare him one last glance. He’s on the floor, head hung and back to you, and you consider staying. But you don’t. You go straight to bed, acting as if a fresh start tomorrow will reset the entire thing.

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

In the morning, JJ’s gone. John B doesn’t seem to have even realised he’d stayed over. You find your older brother in the kitchen, washing up the dirty dishes. Swiping up a towel, you come to help.

“Hey. Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “You?”

“Like a rock,” he grins. “You still up for that keggar tonight, at the boneyard?”

“Oh shit, that’s tonight?”

“Yeah. All the others are going,” John B says.

“Yeah, I’ll go. I think I’m catching a ride with Lizzy from work.”

“Alright. Just stay safe.”

“I will,” you drawl. He smiles at you before turning back to the washing up. “Hey, John B?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For letting me stay here.”

“Yeah, course,” he says. He pauses his handy work, turning his attention to you. “You’ve always got a bed to crash on here, even if child services are up my ass.”

“I appreciate it. I really needed to get out of Colorado.”

The seven missed calls from your mom slip into your mind. Her texts go unanswered, but she knows you read them. You don’t want her to think you’re in danger. Talking to her is just too much right now.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I needed you back too,” he says. “Things have been kinda messy since my dad…disappeared. I don’t know what I’d do if I was on my own.”

“You’re never gonna be on your own, though,” you smile. “The Pogues would do anything for you. It’s actually kinda scary.”

John B laughs at that. “Yeah, yeah, they’re, uh, not the smartest.”

“Apart from Pope,” you point out. He nods, smiling as he looks back to the soapy water.

“Yeah, apart from Pope.”

“JJ cares about you a lot,” you feel the need to add. His voice last night, apology ready, after your kiss, echoes in your mind.

“I know. I feel like you two are the best things in my life right now,” John B admits. The guilt multiples by tenfold with that. You fix your face when he looks to you. “So, thanks.”

“No worries, big bro,” you reply, nudging his shoulder with yours.

He laughs. “Thanks, little sis.”

With that, you both continue cleaning the pots. The shame from last night gets shoved down into the deepest, darkest pit of your stomach, and you try to go about your day without sparing another thought to JJ.

On the way to the keggar, Lizzy grills you about your ‘crush’ on Tom. “He’s gonna be there tonight, I think.”

“Oh, really?” you say. You know you don’t sound enthused. It’s too much effort to pretend.

“Everything good?” she frowns, glancing away from the road.

You nod and plaster on a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just tired, I think.”

“Couple drinks in you and you’ll be wide awake, I promise,” she assures.

Nodding, you shift in your seat and look out the window. Your skirt rides up in the processes. It’s a little short but it’s so ridiculously hot tonight, you can’t seem to care. A crotchet style crop-top dresses down the outfit. You don’t want to seem like you’re trying too hard for a beachside keggar. As you pull up closer to the boneyard, cars line the roads. Lizzy finds a spot and parks. You grab the crate of Budlight and her the box of White Claw, and you hop out the car towards the beach. Her stories about work and school have brightened your mood.

She’s tall and remarkably cool in a way that you never will be. She has stick and poke tattoos on her knees and elbows, and nine piercings on one ear. Her nose ring and snake bite piercings are far from intimidating on her cherub like features. The buzzcut has been dyed neon blue, standing bright against her dark skin. As you pass groups of teens, she shouts hello to those she recognises and shares the odd bro-hug.

You add your drinks to the pile of booze before grabbing a can, cracking it open. A quick scan of the scene tells you that the Pogues are still pre-drinking at the Chateau. You’d managed to dodge JJ so far.

“This is a pretty decent turn out,” Lizzy tells you, swigging from her can.

“Know a lot of people here?”

“Sure,” she says. She points to a gaggle of polo-shirt wearing pretty boys who look like they could snap you with one finger. “Those are the gym rat kooks. That tall blonde Topper is with the princess of Figure Eight, Sarah Cameron.”

JJ was right: biceps without a brain. You watch as he shotguns a drink and cracks the can on his forehead. Sarah Cameron, blonde hair straight flowing down her back, does not look impressed.

“And her brother Rafe. That guy’s all kinds of whacked out,” Lizzy mutters. You follow her finger to spot a tall, short haired guy. He looks unapproachable, even from far away.

“Yo Lizzy!”

You both turn to find a crowd of girls and guys. One of them is waving at Lizzy and she waves back.

“Come on, I know these guys. They’re cool,” she tells you, taking your hand and guiding you over.

You’re introduced to everyone and soon enough are roped into beer pong and shots. It’s fun though. Everyone’s having a laugh, cheering each other on. You hear about some good spots to grab food and learn Michael, Lizzy’s closest friend, can drink you under the table. A few hours in and there’s a comfortable buzz to your bones. You haven’t thought about the Pogues, or JJ, or the fleeting kiss all night. As you laugh along to one of Michael’s soccer stories, someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to come face to face with Tom.

“Hey,” you smile, squiffy.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Yeah, I came with Lizzy.”

“Hey, Tom,” she smiles before sending you a more than suggestive look. Oh, shit. The lie. “Hey, why don’t you go get my girl a top up?”

Before you can contest, she’s taking your half full can out of your hand and coaxing you away with an assuring smile. Tom takes it in stride and walks with you to the coolers. He grabs two cans of beer, passing one to you, and you cheers him.

“How you finding Kildare?”

“Good.”

“Yeah? You been hanging with John B’s crowd, right?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” you smile, nodding. He makes a face before taking a drink. You frown. “What?”

“Nah, nothing. They’re just kinda…well, I mean, some people think they’re bad news.”

“Some people, huh?” you say cautiously.

“Just reputations and all that. Like that JJ guy. He’s got slippery fingers, if you know what I mean,” Tom says, wiggling his own in demonstration.

Suddenly this conversation is very unappealing. You glance off to Lizzy and the others. “I should probably get back to them. Thanks for the drink, though.”

“No, hey, no,” Tom says. He grabs you by the wrist. “Come on, I was being a dick. I’ve had one too many. Let’s just hang, alright? I really wanna get to know you.”

You look between him and Lizzy and sigh. Taking a swig, you shrug. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tick you off.”

“I like the Pogues. They’re a good group,” you feel the need to defend.

“No, yeah, they are!” Tom agrees. You can smell the stench of liquor on his breath. “I just don’t want you to get corrupted by them.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just, you’re new here—”

“And so I’m clueless on how to judge people?” you finish sardonically.

Tom rolls his eyes and it makes your anger tick. “Come on, you don’t gotta be a bitch about this.”

“What did you just call me? You know what? Forget it,” you scoff, snatching your arm away from his hold. “Have fun drinking on your own.”

But you don’t get very far before he’s grabbing at you again. “Calm down, would you? Just gimme—”

“Let go!” you demand.

His grip only tightens. The strong front you’re putting on begins to crumble under the panic of this guy is way bigger than me.

“Just quit bitching and we can talk,” he says harshly.

“I don’t want to talk. Now please let go of me,” you firmly return.

He doesn’t let go. Keeps chattering away, insisting that you have to hear him out.

“Let go, Tom!”

“Everything good here?”

Your wide eyes look away from Tom and land on JJ, and your whole body relaxes. He’s looking at you and the panic must read clear on your face because his demeanour changes in a split second. Jaw tight, he turns to Tom.

“I think you should let go, man.”

“You think I’m gonna listen to you?” Tom scoffs.

JJ takes another step towards him. He towers over Tom by enough to be intimidating. “Think you should listen to her.”

“Oh, I get it,” Tom snarls. He lets go of you and you can feel your skin breathing. You rub at the pink marks, easing the sting. Tom gets into JJ’s face, undeterred from a fight. “You wanna keep John B’s sloppy sister for yourself, huh?”

JJ’s fist flies at Tom’s face, making an ugly, visceral sound as it lands on his left cheek. You gasp. Nearly knocked off balance, Tom stumbles on the sand. The commotion has drawn in somewhat of a crowd. Before you can intervene, Tom’s throwing hands. He aims an upper cut to JJ’s jaw but he’s quick to dodge, landing his own punch instead by Tom’s eyebrow. That one seems to deter him. He trips backwards. The chanting of the crowds egging it on makes you feel sick. You’d just finished patching JJ up last night, and you’ve seen his anger before. It takes control quickly and blinds him to reason. The last thing he needs is to wind up in a cell. So, before he can land another hit, you’re stepping forward and grabbing at his arm, stopping him.

“Come on, let’s just go,” you say pleadingly.

His chest is heaving with anger, breathing short and jaw heavy set and tense. He hesitates, looking between yourself and Tom. He’s still cradling his last hit, trying to regain his composure. Sighing, JJ lets you lead him away. Tom’s heckling is laced with slurs directed at you, and you have to keep a steady grip on JJ to keep him from going back.

“He’s not worth it, JayJ,” you mutter.

“You’re so wrong,” JJ darkly returns, but he doesn’t go back.

Away from the beach, back on the road, you let go. He paces for a moment, trying to calm himself. Tugs off his cap and rakes his fingers through his hair, breathing deep and slow. You don’t speak: just let him go through the motions. Babying him through this isn’t going to help anyone.

Whilst violence isn’t the answer to anything, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t grateful for JJ’s help.

Letting him cool off, you take a seat on one of the fallen tree trunks.

“Hey.”

Looking up, JJ walks over. He’s mostly back to himself.

“You okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No. Just freaked me out a bit. He’s not usually like that. He’s just drunk.”

“Like that’s an excuse,” JJ scoffs. He takes the spot next to you, sitting worryingly close.

The culmination of last night and tonight makes your head spin. The effects of the alcohol vanished the moment Tom took a hold of you. Now you just want to forget the whole thing.

“Wanna get out of here?” JJ asks.

You turn your head to face him and smile smally, nodding.

“Come on. I brought my bike.”

His red bike is parked beside the Twinkie. He climbs on first and offers a hand to help you onto the back. Your arms slot around his middle, circling around his taught chest, pressing yourself against him. Face resting on the middle of his back, you try not to inhale the smell of him. It might be too much for tonight. His calloused hands on yours have you shifting your hold, ensuring your tight against him like a backpack.

“Good?”

“Good,” you quietly reply.

He kicks off the stand and starts up the engine. You pull away from the keggar and up the road, zipping down the isolated streets. There’s nobody around at this time. Not a soul in sight. It feels so right, wrapped up against him like this, safe in his presence. Tom was wrong: JJ wasn’t bad news. Sure, he was a klepto, but he was the same guy who learnt how to sew to fix your favourite pair of shorts when you were little. The same guy who stepped up when some dirtbag was harassing you. The same guy who remembered you don’t like pickles on your burgers. Who looked at your paintings as if they were Picasso.

Somewhere along the ride, one of JJ’s hands comes to rest on your own. You don’t ask why and don’t pull away. Just let the reassuring weight of his hand on yours stay there and ground you to him like an anchor. Here, flying through the night, you can pretend like all the other shit doesn’t matter. It’s just you and him.

He starts onto a dirt track, slowing down, and a house emerges. Pastel yellow painted exterior hidden behind porch netting. There’s clutter of engines and fishing gear amongst surfing supplies. He pulls to a stop and kicks on the stand, turning off the engine. It’s quiet now, without its rumble. “Your dad home?” you can’t help but ask, staring at the front door.

JJ shakes his head. “No. He’s out on Friday nights. Kinda the only routine he has.”

You don’t ask where and he doesn’t expand. You step off the bike and watch as he clambers off too. Fixing your skirt, you wait for him to talk. He doesn’t. “I should probably head back,” you say. You’re not entirely sure why you came to his place instead. You’d assumed when you got on the bike that he’d take you back the Chateau.

“I mean, we can share a joint first if you want. Help you calm down and stuff, after that shitshow,” JJ half-chuckles.

There’s something heavy in the humid air. It’s hard to describe, hard to place, but you can feel it like static electricity. You find yourself nodding. He nods too and starts up to the house, hands in his black short pockets. You watch his feet sink into the grass and guide your eyes up his figure. His shoulders are tense, dressed under a thin t-shirt. He ditches his cap on the kitchen counter when you walk through the door. Through the house, past the neglection, and to his bedroom. He flicks on the light and clears his throat as he goes to his desk drawer.

You stand, leaning against his door until it clicks closed, and look around his room. There’s a world map pinned to the wall but no markings on it asides from one: Kildare, North Carolina. Print outs of palm trees and pressed, framed butterflies and leaves seem less innocent when placed between posters of models on the beach. The floor is a mess of dirty clothes and empty beer cans. Several dead vapes litter near the overflowing bin, and cigarette and joint buds scatter the windowsill and beside table. But the smell of JJ hangs strong in the air; it makes you smile to yourself.

“Alright,” JJ sighs. The desk drawer slams closed and he turns around, holding up a fresh joint and lighter. His initials are scratched into the metal: JJ. He sits on the bed and places the blunt between his lips, flicking at his lighter. You watch him take a drag and take it off him when he offers it over.

No words are shared as you pass the bud for several minutes. You both glance around the room, at the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere but each other.

“How’s your face?”

“Huh?” he asks, finally meeting your eyes.

You nod to his cheek. “Your cut from the other night?”

“Oh, right,” he mumbles. He lifts a finger and strokes it absentmindedly. “It’s alright.”

“Good.”

JJ hands you the joint again, you take a drag, you pass it back to him. That same feeling from earlier, when you first climbed off the bike, has only amplified.

“So…”

You brave clearing the distance between you. You take the spot next to him on the bed.

“We gonna talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about?” JJ deflects, studying the floor.

“Well, you kissed me,” you eventually reply, taking the joint back. “So, there’s that.”

“I already told you,” he sighs. “I was tired and doped up.”

When you say nothing, he looks up at you. "What? You think I'm lying?"

You take a drag. Shrugging, you honestly reply, “yeah, a little.”

He holds your gaze as if challenging you to back down. You don’t. Beating around the bush won’t help anything here, and its obvious you can’t go back to acting like it didn’t happen. You can’t move past it until you know why he did.

“S’just weird,” JJ mutters, looking away. “What happened last night, with me and you. S’just weird.”

“Yeah, it was weird for me too,” you agree. Swallowing, you take another hit. “But not bad weird, right?”

JJ’s head lifts once more. His eyes flash across your face like he’s searching for some kind of trap. He sucks his teeth in contemplation. “No. Not bad weird.”

Your heart stutters, breathing shaky and unsure. You feel your eyes dart down to his strawberry pink lips, and his to yours. But then he’s shaking his head. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know…” you breathe. You’re transfixed on his lips. Can’t move away, can’t bring yourself too. The blunt in your fingers is burning away, ash dropping to the floor, but you don’t care. All of it, everything but JJ, is white noise.

The moment you flit your eyes up to his, something shifts in him. His jaw ticks as he clenches it. Your brows pull in thought but there’s no time for you to ask.

“Fuck it.”

His lips are on yours within a breadth. He consumes your senses like a drug, dulling down anything else until all your thoughts are on him. He grabs for the blunt in your fingers, haphazardly putting it on the bedside table, and then his hands are sliding up along your sides, up your back, into your hair. One finds purchase on your cheek, and you rest your jaw in his hold like a bird settled in its favourite branch. The way he holds you like you’re something holy is different to how sinful his kiss is. It’s pure passion: raw, animalistic heat from weeks of build-up. And, God, it feels so right. The way his tongue brushes against yours, warm in your mouth, heavy in your head. The nip of his teeth on your lips and the fanning of his breath when he has to break for air. You’ve never been kissed like this before, not by anyone. It’s dizzying.

Until it isn’t, and he’s pulling away. His forehead rests against your own. You’re both panting. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he says.

You slide a hand up his neck, tracing his jawline with your fingers. He practically melts under your touch, eyes slipping shut. “I know,” you whisper distractedly. Your thumb traces his lower lip. It’s swollen from your kisses.

He blinks his eyes open. “I’m serious. He can’t know.”

“He won’t,” you say, going to reconnect your lips.

But JJ stops you. “No, he can’t. He’d…God, he just can’t.”

You want to cry, seeing the moral dilemma weigh on JJ, feeling you share the burden. But the thought of walking away from this, of not feeling every inch of him, of never hearing him fall apart, makes you want to sob.

“Maybe just one time,” you murmur. Your finger traces down his chin, along the centre of his neck. “And we can just get it out of our system.”

“Yeah,” JJ mumbles. “Yeah, one time.”

“Yeah?”

You meet his gaze. His pupils are dilated, heavy with lust, and you feel your body ignite. “Touch me, please.”

With that simple mark of consent, JJ’s unchained. He doesn’t hold back when your lips reconnect. Somehow it becomes deeper, rougher, better. It’s such a strange oxymoron, the way he touches you and kisses you. You pull away to remove your crop top, and he takes the moment to strip off his shirt. The two of you are shameless as you take in the other. Reaching out a hand, you run your fingers up his chest in the way that you’ve imagined so many times before. It’s funny how in your head, you’ve already done it. His eyes dip down, watching your hands explore. You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his left pectoral, then his right. Sighing, his chest drops up and down with uneven breathes.

“So pretty,” you say through your kisses.

His fingers tether into your hair. There’s a slight tug that sends ripples of pleasure through your body in ways that it shouldn’t as he pulls you away, guiding your lips back to him. As he crawls atop of you, you inch up the bed, skirt riding up. You settle on our back. JJ’s greedy in his touch. Strokes your skin, explores your body, like it’s his own. And in a way it is because you’d give him anything if he asked. When his fingers slip behind your back, searching for the clasp of your bra, you lift yourself onto your elbows. He holds your gaze as he unfastens it, guiding it off your shoulders, helping it off your arms.

“Fuck,” he sighs.

A smile teases at your lips. It takes a certain type of guy to make you blush at the sound of his curses. Your head rocks back, eyes sinking closed, as his lips latch around your nipple. A hand palms at the skin, teasing your breast, exploring your reactions. You sigh out your pleasure, bringing a hand up to mess with his hair. It’s better than you imagined. Tops every fantasy, every wet dream, every sinful thought. And it’s only just begun.

“So fucking sexy,” JJ groans, kissing up your body until he finds your lips.

You don’t want him away from you. He looms over you, encasing you in the safe, consuming feeling of his presence, trapping you in the smell of his cologne and soap that you’ve tried so desperately to avoid. Through the kisses and love bites marked into necks and collarbones, you feel one of his hands ghost the outline of your figure. Traces down so slowly like you might not even notice. Down, down, to your panties. It’s there that he sweeps over your cotton covered mound. You sigh against his lips in anticipation.

“I know you’ve been thinking ‘bout this,” JJ says.

His voice is just as you pictured it: deep and crooning, his Southern accent at forefront. You want to bottle it like brandy and drink it until you black out. His lips work down your neck as he lightly circles your clit over your panties and you can’t stop your moan.

“I heard you, the other night.” Your eyes shoot open. JJ meets your gaze. He’s dying, the desperation clear as day on his face. His eyes themselves could send him straight to hell. There’s the shadow of a smirk.

“Were you thinking of me, whilst you were getting off?”

You go to push him away. The last thing you need is for him to tease you about it and make fun. But he doesn’t let you. Instead, he kisses just below your ear.

“Cause I think about you. Every night since you’ve been back. Can’t jack off to anything else,” he confesses into the crux of your ear. Your only reply is a small, surprised gasp. Your body’s ablaze with his words.

His fingers finally dip below your panties, sliding between your soaking folds. He groans at the sensation and you feel your legs give way. He works at you for a while, toying with you like it’s a side hobby. You’re only half aware of the sounds you make. One of your hands has situated itself on his upper back, nails scratching at the skin. JJ can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. It’s one blasphemy after another, and it drives you deeper and deeper into the abyss. He seems to become impatient. He removes fingers to push your underwear down. You kick them off at the ankles with a small giggle.

The moment his finger sinks into you, you swear you’ve seen heaven. JJ worships you, taking his time to inch you closer and closer to the edge. Another finger, then another. The stretch is heaven. Your back arches off the bed, mouth agape, brain dumb with pleasure. He won’t be quiet. He whispers praises into your ear. Narrates his own fantasies he’s harboured about you. Know you’ve been teasing me with those tiny bikinis. I wish I fucked you on the porch the other night. The moment his thumb swipes over your clit, you know you’re close. And then he’s bending his fingers just slightly, hitting that spot. You abandon all religion: this is the only type of prayer you need.

JJ has the audacity to laugh as you climax. You grasp uselessly at his body, the bedsheets, anything. You use a shaky hand to push his fingers away, overstimulated, and he finally relents. Starts kissing at your neck like a Goddamn vampire.

“That good, huh?”

You can’t really formulate words. You just drag his face to yours, kissing him senseless. When you inevitably part for breath, JJ leans back. He pinches your chin between two fingers, gnawing at his lower lip, and parts your lips for him. Your body pulses at the submissiveness he’s placed you under. Then his used fingers are slipped into your mouth. You close your lips around them, holding his gaze as you suck them clean. The salty distinct taste is unfamiliar but not necessarily unpleasant. He gives a small laugh, like he’s in disbelief.

“Fuck. Why did we wait so long to do this?”

You pull his hand free, taking grip on his shoulders. Pushing him against his bedroom wall, you move to straddle him. His hands fall onto your hips. Somewhere in your heady make-out, you rock yourself back on him. JJ groans; his head knocks back against the wall. He’s rock hard. It must be torture. You shuffle off him to make room to pull his shorts off. They join the mess of clothes on the floor. The tip leaks precum, straining painfully. You go to jack him off but JJ stops you.

“I won’t last,” he admits, half-embarrassed.

You nod, biting back your smile. “You got protection?”

“Top drawer,” he says, nodding to the bedside table.

You lean over and dig about before finding a condom. You come back, tear it open, and gently slide it over him. He lets out a shuddering breath at your touch, eyes clenched shut in concentration. It makes you feel slightly guilty for letting him indulge you for so long, but this will pay it back.

Straddling him once more, you steady yourself with one hand on either shoulder. His find home on your hips once more, and he helps you line up. Then you slowly sink down onto him. The stretch stings despite the earlier efforts. Head hanging forward, mouth falling open in silent moans, eyes clenching shut, you take him in. JJ’s mumbling praises, eyes transfixed on where you connect, spurring you on. Taking me so good. Jus’little more. You rock against him, using whatever energy you have to ride him. He helps guide you, head resting against the wall. You love that he isn’t quiet. Love that you’re on top and can see every ripple of pleasure course through him, reflect on his face. But when his eyes slip shut, you take a hand and guide his face to yours. Pressing your forehead against him, you lean forward and steady yourself with a hand on his chest. The new angle is euphoric. You moan and whine against his lips, eyes staring into his own. It’s the most hideously lewd symphony as the two of you chase your highs. There’s only one thought in your mind. And when JJ comes unannounced, shuddering as he finishes, never looking away from your eyes, only one thought is in your mind.

If it can only happen this once, it has to be perfect...

to be continued (part 2 will be released later this week)

#jj #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #obx #outer banks #obx fics #outer banks fic #obx fic #obx preference #outer banks preference #jj preference #jj maybank preference #routledge!reader #jj x routledge!reader #brothersbestfriend!jj #brothersbestfriend!jj x reader #jj x fem!reader #jj maybank x fem!reader #fem!reader

270 notes · View notes

fiction-is-life · 11 months

Text

A Dish Best Served Hot

Summary: You get exactly what you want all in one eventful outdoor movie night. Set during season one.

Warnings: Plotless smut, kinda bitchy reader, language, mention of guns/weapons, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, creampie, clit slapping, mention of oral (fem receiving)/face riding

“Baby, please,” Topper whined in your ear. It was surprising he was being as quiet as he was.

“Someone will notice, Top,” you whispered back.

He groaned into your neck and dug his fingers into your waist where they rested. “Everyone is focused on the movie. Nobody is even looking at us,” he reasoned.

“Topper…”

He kissed your neck, his soft lips making you shiver. “You’re just so beautiful, baby, I can’t help it. Just let me slip it in under the blanket; nobody will notice,” he spoke as his lips found the sweet spot on your neck.

You bent your neck to give him more access, and he took the opportunity to bite your neck lightly, immediately soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue.

You reached back to palm his crotch with one hand, finding a small wet spot where his precum had been leaking onto his shorts. You licked your lips as a smirk grew on them. “Hmm, you really do need this, pretty boy. Leaking onto your shorts and making a mess,” you hummed, teasing him.

His grip tightened on your waist, and he moaned into your neck. You took your hand away at that, denying him any pleasure. “It’s a pretty big risk, Top; I don’t know if I want to take it,” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest, pushing your breasts up and driving your boyfriend even wilder.

His nose nuzzled your ear as he pulled you in closer, playing the doting, cuddling boyfriend for anybody who happened to be looking. “If you let me do this now, I’ll sit you down on my face until you are crying for me to stop later,” he practically growled.

A flood of honey-wetness soaked your panties at this. You nodded your head, not trusting your voice. You felt Topper’s lips curl into a smile. “Good girl.”

Very carefully, Topper lifted you onto his lap, having already freed his cock from his shorts. He arranged the blanket on top of you securely before lifting your sundress up enough to shimmy your panties down your thighs.

While everyone was focused on the most dramatic part of the movie, Topper managed to slip his cock into your dripping pussy. It took a few thrusts, but he finally bottomed out. You took deep breaths, trying not to cry out at how well he filled you. “You feel even bigger from this angle, Topper. I can feel you in my fucking stomach,” you whimpered.

You almost blew your cover when you felt a large, warm hand press down on your belly, making you feel the bulge there even more prominently. “You ready for me to move, baby girl? Think you can handle it?”

You clenched around him, giving him a taste of his own medicine. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he groaned.

Topper started to thrust quickly yet shallowly, trying to minimize the chance of anyone noticing. You let out a cry when he hit your g-spot. You were lucky that a jump scare had happened at the same time, but you still looked around you to make sure nobody had noticed.

Your eyes locked on a pair of blue ones a few rows in front of you. You smirked, leaning your head back onto Topper’s shoulder casually. “Maybank noticed us, baby. He’s looking right at me,” you whispered.

Topper’s thrusts became harder at this, making you bite your lip. “Let him look. He just knows he’ll never have the hottest girl on the island. Serves him right for putting a gun to my head,” he huffed.

You could see the tent growing in Maybank’s cargo shorts, and your face lit with an idea. “Touch my clit, Top,” you demanded.

Your face twisted in a silent moan when Topper’s fingers ran through your slick, gathering it up before slapping your clit. He rubbed your clit in tight circles, making the growing knot in your stomach intensify. His thrusts quickened, and you could feel him twitch inside of you, just as close as you were already.

“Cum inside me, Topper, please,” you whimpered, making sure JJ could read your lips.

“Oh, fuck, baby, your killing me,” were the last words you heard before you were being stuffed full with hot spurts of your boyfriend’s cum. The feeling alone was enough to make you cum hard, but the rough pad of Topper’s finger on your clit and the fact you were being watched had you coming completely undone. Your vision blacked out and you were loud enough to draw a few concerned looks your way.

When you caught your breath, you opened your eyes to see Maybank’s still on you. Not breaking eye contact, you brought Topper’s hand to your lips, sucking his cum soaked fingers in your mouth. You cleaned them off, letting them slip out of your mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’.

You reached up and tilted Topper’s head down to give him a lingering kiss. You settled back into his arms, electrified yet sated. The last thing you saw before closing your eyes was JJ Maybank storming off, his dick looking painfully hard, and you smirked, getting exactly what you wanted out of the night - and you couldn’t wait for Topper’s skilled tongue to clean your pussy of his cum later.

My Masterlist

Taglist: @adventuresinobx @bradleybeachbabe @starkeyobx @penny4yourthoughts @topperscumslut @drewbooooo @honeybear-yammy @gillybear17 @hoebx @darksideofmyshallow @fangirlfree @get0ut0fmyr00m @poppet05 @graywrites20 @yellowbitchs-blog @laneyy003 @hydraironcaptian @honeybuzzzzzz @powellssugarbaby @ietts @art3mas

#topper thornton x reader #jj maybank x reader #topper thornton smut #jj maybank smut #obx fics #outer banks fanfiction #topper thornton x you #jj maybank x you #obx smut #outer banks smut #topper thornton #jj maybank

471 notes · View notes

obxologies · 5 months

Text

OBXOLOGIES' XMAS SPECIAL

my kinksgiving failed cause i suck at schedules so here's a christmas special for you guys that's more doable 🎄

college!bf!rafe distracting gf!reader while studying (oneshot)

jj having a crush on rafe's gf (blurb)

sarah and bff!reader getting high and making out (oneshot)

drew getting handsy with gf!reader during premiere (blurb)

madelyn and gf!reader walking the red carpet together (blurb)

kiara getting jealous of sarah (oneshot)

jealous!rafe fucking pogue!reader (oneshot)

jj eating out gf!reader (blurb)

sarah and gf!reader going night swimming (blurb)

sarah and gf!reader getting caught at the chateau (oneshot)

#obxologies #outer banks #obx #outer banks x reader #obx imagines #obx fics #obx oneshots #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #sarah cameron smut #sarah cameron x reader #madelyn cline #madelyn cline x reader #madelyn cline x female reader

143 notes · View notes

adventuresinobx · 2 years

Text

Hooked

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summary: Based on the song Hooked by Why Don’t We.

Pogues have a bad reputation this side of town but that doesn’t stop you being intrigued by a particular blonde worker you had been seeing around recently. He wanted to experience fucking a Kook too, and so the start of a friends with benefits relationship was formed.

Words: 3.4k

A/N: I’m off to bathe in holy water after this 😂😂

Warnings: Smut smut smut, rough sex, choking etc. Allll the warnings.

You laid out on the sun lounger near the pool, soaking up the sun.

JJ had been working for your family - and other families on the nice side of the island - for some time now and whilst you were enjoying relaxing in the sun, he was busy mowing the lawn nearby.

He had been ordered by his boss, your dad this time around, not to go within (figuratively) 10 metres of the pool until you had gone as “daddy didn’t want his darling daughter to be disturbed whilst she was relaxing”.

However, JJ was always pushing boundaries and today was absolutely no exception.

“Having fun ma’am?” he asked, standing what felt like exactly 10.01 metres from you.

“Yes thank you,” you replied, your sunglasses hiding you glancing at him up and down.

The beads of sweat on his abs from the hot North Carolina sun glistened in the light and you had to stop yourself from licking your lips as you appreciated his body.

On the other hand, he was much more obvious.

His eyes were blatantly scanning your body as you laid on the sun lounger in a tiny bikini. It didn’t leave much to the imagination and he couldn’t help but bite his lip as he took a step closer to get a better view. His eyes were full of fire, him drinking you in as he gazed at you.

“Maybank,” a stern voice came from the house, which you quickly recognised to be your dad’s.

Within moments, the blonde boy had disappeared and you could hear the sound of the lawnmower being used some distance away.

You chuckled to yourself before you went back to scrolling through your phone from the sun lounger, your afternoon hardly being interrupted now except for your dad telling you that he was taking your mum and your little sister out for ice cream if you wanted to come.

You weren’t keen, instead telling him you wanted to catch the last few moments of sun before the night came by.

“Finished up then?” you heard a voice say as you packed away your things whilst the sun was setting.

Now, with your dad out, JJ’s 10 metre rule didn’t exist and he was standing right next to you as he hopped onto the other sun lounger, throwing his hands behind his head and putting his feet up.

“You do make yourself comfortable,” you said with a laugh, shaking your head at him.

He was bold, you had to give him that.

JJ and you had crossed paths a few times in the past, but your lives were very different. He was a Pogue and you were a Kook.

He worked every day of his life to earn enough to live the life he wanted the next day. You, the same age as him, had a completely different life - getting whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted. When you turned 16, your parents had sat you down and explained there was a way things went here.

No Kook ever dated a Pogue and vice versa. It was fraternising with the enemy. You agreed at the time but ever since you were told you couldn’t have him, it made you want him more.

JJ was easiest the hottest guy that had ever worked for your dad and the more you saw him, the more you were intrigued by him.

“Your parents out?” he said rather bluntly, looking towards you. You had perched yourself on the edge of the sun lounger, facing him so you could secretly enjoy the view a little more.

“Yeah, why?” you asked, getting a little hopeful.

“Oh your dad said he’d pay me tonight, but I can’t stick around,” he said and you nodded awkwardly.

“Oh maybe the money is in an envelope in his study,” you half suggested, half wondered - your dad had done this before, “Come check with me if you want?”

He wasn’t going to say no to possibly being paid, he had planned to go out get some beers for a night in with his friends at John B’s shack.

“Sure,” he replied, hopping off the sun lounger and following you into the house. There was probably some rule about having Pogues in the house but your dad wasn’t here and what he wouldn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“Woah your house is cool,” he said as the two of you walked into the grand entrance hall. It was huge, marble everywhere, grand double staircases, like nothing JJ had seen before. However, it lacked character. It felt like every Kook house you’d ever seen.

It was no shack, JJ thought as he followed you into the study.

“You must have some crazy stories to tell of what you’ve done here ma’am,” he said, a cheeky grin spreading over his face as you went to playfully slap him, breaking that touch barrier that you’d been craving to break all day.

“Not quite, Kooks aren’t as crazy as Pogues,” you replied. His eyebrows wiggled at her comment as he looked her right in the eyes.

“Pogues are a different level of wild altogether,” he noted, a smirk spreading on your face. You threw caution to the wind and uttered five words which changed everything right in that moment.

“I’ve never had a Pogue,” you muttered, as a smirk spread on JJ’s face and he suddenly forgot all about the money he was owed.

“I’ve never had a Kook,” he replied back, moving closer to you. His body was inches away now, the sun setting through the window and casting a gorgeous golden glow over his muscly arms and his chiselled facial features.

“Did you want to?” you asked him, before swallowing nervously and pausing, “Have a kook?”

His body was literally centimetres away from you now, you pressed up against the desk in the study as he stepped closer to you.

“I’d like to try,” he replied, a fire sparking in his eyes as he moved his hand to your side and squeezed your bare skin there just above your bikini bottoms strap. You were about to lose it - but before you did, you had to make one thing clear.

“One time, friends with benefits, that’s it,” you said matter of factly, his breath gentle on your neck as he inched his face closer just waiting for you to finish what you had to say. You both knew what was about to happen.

“One time,” he replied, “Just friends.”

And with that, you grabbed a fistful of his shirt in your hand and pulled him into you. Your lips crashed together, he was so rough with his kissing, as he ran his tongue over your bottom lip and begged for permission to enter your mouth.

You’d never been kissed like this before.

All your exes - all Kooks of course - would just kiss you gently on the lips and then proceed to fill you up as quickly as possible, but this was exciting and different.

You locked lips again, your tongues now fighting for dominance as you felt JJ’s rough hands make their way to your hips and he slipped his fingers under the string of your bikini bottoms.

“Yes that feels good,” you groaned, tilting your head back and JJ took that as a sign to start kissing your neck.

He stepped back for a second to pull his own top over his head as he flung it somewhere around the room and got back to work on pleasing you.

He pressed hot and feverish kisses against your neck as you melted into his body, feeling the temperature in the room rising as his hands slid up your body and grabbed your tits.

“Fuck,” you moaned, loving how he used his hands so much. It was so sexy having him teasing you like that. He brushed his thumb over your hard nipple as he used his teeth to nibble at the sensitive skin behind your ear.

“Holy - fuck,” you moaned out through breaths as he marked you with what would end up being a nice purple bruise.

You reached out for him, running your hands over his abs and round to his hips as you pulled him in closer to you, letting your bodies meet properly for the first time.

You could feel he was already growing hard through his shorts and the feeling of him on your thigh was making you ache too.

“Take this off,” you ordered him, nodding your head towards your bikini top as he removed his hands for a brief second to untie the string.

You were expecting him to replace his hands back on you but instead you felt his tongue flick out over your hard nipple whilst he rolled the other one between his thumb and forefinger.

This was nothing like you’d ever experienced, you’d never been touched in this way before but this was incredible and almost too much but not enough at the same time.

“How does that feel cupcake?” he asked, flicking his tongue over your nipple as moans spilt out from your lips.

“Fucking amazing,” you groaned back, almost shrieking as he used his fingers to twist the other one before swapping around and giving them equal attention

Your hands were on his back now, your nails digging into his skin there as you enjoyed the sensation of his mouth latched around your nipples.

You had really long nails compared to most of the Pogue girls JJ had been with before and it was that feeling of you digging your nails into his back and scratching his skin that made him even harder.

You could feel his dick straining against his pants and decided to pull off his shorts for him so you could see what you were working with.

When you pulled them down, there was almost a sigh of relief that came from the blonde boy, finally feeling slightly less restricted. You pushed JJ off you lightly, turning the two of you around so he was now against the desk.

Without looking at him in the eyes, you tapped the desk, asking him to sit on it so you could get to work. Realising how much he liked your nails, you ran your nails down his thighs as you made your way down to settle between his legs.

You could see a small bit of pre-come leaking through his boxers and you were so desperate for a taste that you leant forward and flicked your tongue over the tip through the material.

He growled, his hands immediately finding your hair as he tugged on it for leverage.

That felt incredible, way better than he thought it ever could. You smiled at your success and moved your hands to brace them on his thighs.

Lifting one hand, you moved it to the tent in his boxers and grazed your nails over his cock. Feeling it twitch beneath your fingers, you licked a few more stripes up and down over the material before finally giving him what he wanted and pulling the boxers down around his ankles.

His cock sprung up in front of you and you gasped at the size. You couldn’t believe how big he was. None of the guys you’d been with even came close to his size.

The aching of your core was honestly getting too much now and you were tempted to just whip your bikini bottoms off and ask him to fuck you until you both came everywhere.

You spat on your hand, using it to cover his cock so you could start to work on him.

Your tongue flicked over the tip a few times, you taking extra care to focus on the slit where lots of salty pre-come had started to leak out. It tasted incredible and having your tongue on him like this made moans spill out of him.

“You taste so good,” you moaned with your mouth still around his cock as he felt the vibrations of you speaking. His head was thrown back, his hands in your hair but he was barely even able to grip your hair from how good it all felt.

You kept your tongue flicking over the head, occasionally swapping to doing long licks up and down his length with the tip of your tongue until you felt him twitch in your mouth.

At the feeling, he grabbed your hair and pulled hard and he released into your mouth.

You instantly swallowed the warm liquid, a smile spreading on your face as he looked down at you. His eyes were almost glossed over and his blonde hair was a sweaty mess on top of his head. His knuckles were white as he gripped the desk he was leaning on to steady himself.

You could see such a desire in his eyes and the sight sent you wild, you were growing wetter by the second.

“Fuck, I - need to fuck you,” he said, still trying to regulate his breath. You stood up, crashing your lips against his as he poked his tongue out to taste himself in your month.

He grabbed fistfuls of your hair, pulling at it as he turned the two of you around so you were now leaning on the desk. He picked you up quickly and swiftly with just one arm and placed you on the desk, using the opportunity to pull off your bikini bottoms.

He crouched down in front of you so his face was lined up to where both he wanted you and you wanted him most.

He licked his lips, noticing how wet he had made you with all his moaning and he reached forward to brush his thumb over your slit.

“Can’t believe how wet you’ve got, is this all for me baby?” he said, his voice make you even weaker. You weren’t expecting it so threw your head back, hitting it against the table but you didn’t even mind or seem to notice. It just all felt too good.

In the dead silence of the house, you could hear him licking his lips in anticipation.

He reached forward and used two fingers to run over your slit before spreading you out. He pushed his arm against your thigh to keep your legs from clamping together and he leaned forward.

He took a deep breath and your hips bucked up in anticipation of what was to come.

“Eager,” he teased as he blew cold air over your clit before kissing and biting the skin of your inside thighs. He got rougher and rougher with the biting and you knew he was marking you badly this time.

“Look at you, all marked up - all mine,” he growled, the sound of his voice making you even wetter if that was possible.

He flicked his tongue over your clit, firstly in circles and then long and slower movements. The change of speed made you gasp as you grabbed onto his blonde locks and tried to push his tongue deeper.

No guy had ever eaten you out like this before. It was incredible and the feeling of his hands gripping on your thighs with such hard force only elevated the feeling.

“Fuck that feels so good JJ,” you moaned, “You fuck me so well. Fuck baby, fuck.”

He sucked on your clit, taking it between his lips and sending you into complete overdrive. It was all too much and you felt the coil tighten inside you. This was it, you were about to come.

Noticing the change, he pulled away and licked his lips.

“Need you to come around my cock,” he half said, half begged. You nodded, not one to disagree. It all felt too good. You were expecting him to stand up and push inside you from this angle but you were shocked when he grabbed you by the throat.

“What are you -“ you began as he held you up and kissed you roughly, making you taste yourself on his lips.

“Ready to be fucked by me darling?” he said, his eyes burning a hole into your soul as he kept a tight grip of your neck.

You nodded, unable to speak. You knew there would be marks there later and he seemingly picked up on how you were feeling.

“Those marks just show every Kook you’re mine,” he said, his voice hoarse, “You know no one makes you feel as good as a Pogue can cupcake.”

He moved his hand off your neck, turned you round and pushed you onto the desk, head down against the table.

He admired the new view in front of him, you leaning on the desk in front of him with your legs spread, begging for him to fuck you.

He used the tip of his cock to tease your entrance before pushing inside you from behind without much warning. He didn’t wait for you to get used to his huge size and bottomed out instantly, making you scream out.

As he started to thrust a steady but deep pace, he grabbed your hair in a rough ponytail and pulled on it, forcing your back to arch and pushing him deeper inside you.

It felt too good, he was stretching you so well and you knew, with you being so close, your walls were already pulsating around his cock, heightening the sensation.

“Fuck,” he moaned out, feeling that familiar build up as he slammed himself inside you at record speed. Your legs started to shake as he pulled your hair even more to give you an arch that had him hitting that spot again and again.

“Babe, fuck,” you managed out, your voice strained and tears pricking your eyes due to the feeling.

“Fuck, are you ready?” he said, knowing he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Yes fuck go on,” you moaned back, giving him permission to slam into you harder than ever. He kept pounding into you, never stopping but just as you were about to reach that moment, he stopped.

“Tell me I fuck you better than any Kook,” he ordered and you quickly repeated it, desperate to come and for that sensation of him pounding into you to come back.

“Again,” he said roughly.

“You fuck me better than any Kook,” you yelled out as he groaned at hearing you say that again, “Fuck yes JJ. More. Yes. Fuck.”

You felt your walls tensing around him as you hit your high, him following behind just seconds later. His cock twitched as he shot his seed inside you, holding himself there for a few moments afterwards to not only compose himself but also to make sure none of it escaped you.

“Fuck that was incredible,” he said, his voice low as he pulled out. You turned around, your heart still beating out of your chest as you looked down to his cock.

You knelt down for a brief moment, taking him in your mouth as you licked and sucked him clean. He used his fingers to stuff anything that had escaped out of you back in before bringing his hand up to taste you on his fingers.

“Fucking delicious,” he said, looking at you right in the eyes as he tasted. You kept his gaze for as long as you could before glancing at the strewn papers all over the floor that you’d knocked over.

“We better tidy this up, or you’ll never end up working here again - or worse,” you said, making a throat slitting motion with your hand.

“If the last thing I did before I died was fuck you, I’ll be fucking happy ma’am,” he said as he breathed out and pulled his boxers up, chucking you your discarded bikini to put back on too.

“Let’s see how long those marks last,” he said as he dragged his fingers over the already forming dark reddish purple marks on your collarbone, neck and thighs, “And when I need to make them again,” he said, his voice enough to make you desperate for a round two as soon as possible.

#obx #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank smut #jj maybank #obx smut #obx fics #jj maybank x y/n #outer banks

1K notes · View notes

tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 2 years

Text

New Co-Star | Rudy Pankow x reader

Requested by anon / Summary: Rudy gets a hot new costar that will be playing JJ’s new love interest in the new season of Outer Banks and you get jealous.

A/N: Hope you enjoy!

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

Go follow my fic rec blog! ---> @imaginationgonewild0912

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} closed

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

Season 3 of Outer Banks had begun filming in Charleston, SC and after, a long week of filming, the cast decided a weekend of fun was needed. Especially since there were some new co-stars being added.

“So, you guys rented a beach house for this weekend?” You ask Rudy, as you begin packing. You two lived together in an apartment outside Charleston.

“Yup. We thought it would be a great way to get to know the new co-stars a bit better.” Rudy answers. However, he left out the part about the new co-star was his character, JJ’s new love interest for the show. One, he was under contract, and two, he knew how it would make you feel.

You were insecure, and who wouldn’t be? You’re dating one of the hottest new actors of the popular netflix show, outer banks. He had millions of fan girls, who would kill to be in your position and were very jealous of it. Very jealous of you.

You two began dating long before his acting career took off and after he became famous, it was a problem between the two of you. You always wondered why he wouldn’t leave you for someone better, someone prettier. He could have anyone he wanted now, but he still chose you? You didn’t understand. His answer was always the same and never strayed.

“Are you sure I should be tagging along..?” You stopped at the bed, your bathing suit in your hands, “it’s for you and your costars, not your significant others as well.”

“Madison said she wouldn’t come if you didn’t, especially since Mariah couldn’t be here this weekend.” Rudy says, hands on your hips, “you’re one of us, you know that, so yes, I’m sure you should be tagging along.” He kisses the back of your head, “now hurry up so we can leave, you know Chase will try to steal the master bedroom from us.”

When you arrive, the gang is there, minus one of the new costars, Tara Peterson (completely made this name up so sorry if this is your name) who’d yet to arrive.

Everyone is congregated in the kitchen, surrounding the large kitchen island, discussing dinner options. You’re seated on one of the stools next to Madison, who is showing you photos from her and Mariah’s trip to Disney. Rudy is standing beside you, his hand rubbing up and down your back and in his other hand a beer. Rudy had always been touchy feely, his love language being touch. He always wanted a hand on you, whether it be holding your hand, rubbing your back, on you thigh. It didn’t matter. It brought comfort to you, knowing he was there.

“Has Rudy told you about our new co-star?” Madison whispers to you after she finishes showing you the photos. She glances over her shoulder to make sure Rudy didn’t hear her. He was in conversation with Jonathan about a recent basketball game.

You shook your head, “You know he can’t tell me anything about the show. Contract.” You remind her, “Why? Is there something I should know?” You say with a frown.

“Come check out the porch with me. There’s a great view of the beach.” Maddie hops off the stool, grabbing your hand.

“Where you going? We’re trying to figure out dinner.” Rudy stops you, sensing you get up.

“You know I’m not picky. Madison wants to show me the balcony.”

Rudy glances to Madison, “I will bring her back.” Madison teases, rolling her eyes. “We’re just going outside.”

You quickly peck his lips, following madison outside. The two of you lean against the balcony, overlooking the beach. There were few beach goers. A few stragglers in the ocean and a few tents or umbrellas with chairs lined along the beach.

“JJ has a new love interest so, they’ve brought Tara Peterson on the show.”

“oh.” You frown, “Well, I guess that’s good, right?”

“No. Not good with Tara being on the show. She’s.. I don’t know. I don’t trust her. She’s a flirt. And I know Rudy is too nice to say anything to her.”

Your shoulder’s slump at the new information, “Have.. the two of them kissed? or has she ever tried anything?”

“Not that I know of. I know Rudy would never step out on you like that either.” She places a comforting hand on your arm, “You know that too. I can see the doubt running through your mind now. But I wanted to warn you about her before she got here. Since she is spending the entire weekend with us. She knows Rudy has a girlfriend, he’s made it clear to her.”

You nod, “Thank you for at least warning me. You know how much of a stickler Rudy is about breaking the contract. He won’t tell me anything about the new season!”

“Yeah,” she waves you off with a smile, “I don’t give a shit. Plus, you’re my best friend and i trust you.”

There’s some new commotion going on inside and you both can see through the sliding glass door that someone new had arrived and you assumed it was Tara.

You take a deep breath, following Madison inside. Rudy’s still standing where you’d left him, but Tara was in the middle of hugging Rudy.

Tara releases Rudy from the hug, noticing the two of you, “Madison, hey!” She smiles in greeting and then spots you, “and y/n right? Rudy’s girlfriend?”

She’s drop dead gorgeous. Perfect hair, perfect skin. Perfect teeth. She looks like she’s just stepped off a runway. A wave of insecurity rushes over you.

“You must be Tara, nice to meet you.” You give her a friendly smile, approaching Rudy, who opens his arms for you to cuddle into his side.

“Yeah! It’s nice to meet you too. I didn’t know we were bringing our significant others.” She leans on her hands against the island, “I thought this was just a weekend with the cast!”

A silence fills the air considering you were the only significant other. You knew it was a punch toward you being here, like you didn’t belong.

Chase is the one to quickly speak up, “y/n’s one of us, she’s pretty much been here from the beginning.”

“well, I hope you don’t mind if I steal him for a little while later.” She places a hand on his arm, “I wanted to run lines with him. We’re filming our kissing scene this week and I wanted to practice.” She sees your eyes widen in surprise, and quickly adds, “running lines of course!” she gently shakes his arm with a laugh, trying to cover herself.

You weren’t stupid though, you knew she meant to say it in that way, to make you feel threatened. You force a smile, “No, I don’t mind-”

“So, what are we doing for dinner, I am starving!” Tara interrupts.

This weekend was off to a great start.

“Your new love interest is pretty.” You say to Rudy as soon as he shuts the bedroom door. You two had beat chase to the master bedroom, which happened to have its own private balcony overlooking the beach.

He sighs, holding his arms out beside him in defeat, “I couldn’t say anything.”

“I know, because of your contract.” You take a seat on the edge of the bed, hands squeezing the mattress, “and a kissing scene?” you told yourself you wouldn’t bring it up, but Tara got under your skin and here you are picking a fight with Rudy over it.

“What do you want me to do? Quit?” He stops midway to the bathroom and faces you, “I had no choice in the matter, y/n. She’s my new co-star and love interest in the show. That is it.”

You cast your eyes down to the coral colored rug, digging your toes into the curly fabric. It was suddenly very interesting. You were being insecure and he knew this.

“come on,” he grabs your hands and guides you to stand, engulfing you in his arms. “She’s just a co-star.. just like Madison or Madelyn.”

“They didn’t want to get in your pants.” You mumble into his chest, wrapping your arms around him. There was a hint of musk from his deodorant lingering and it brought you comfort.

He chuckles softly, pressing a kiss into your hair, “You’re right but,” He draws himself back from you, cradling your head in his hands, “You have nothing to worry about with her. I love you. You’re my girl and I’m yours.-”

“Always will be.” You finish for him. It was the same thing he always told you when you would get insecure.

“And always will be.” He presses a kiss against your forehead, lips lingering as he mutters against your skin, “I have no eyes for anyone but you. You’ve been my number one girl from the beginning. She can flirt with me all she wants, but my attention will always be on you, the only girl I love and the only girl I’ll ever flirt with.” His eyes lock onto yours to make sure you hear him. “Okay?”

“Okay,” You sigh, nodding into his hands, “Just.. don’t practice the kiss, that’s all I ask.”

“I don’t want to kiss her more than I have to. We’ll kiss when we film the scene.” He reassures you with a kiss on the nose and lastly to your lips.

~ extra ~

Come Monday, Rudy made a few changes to the scene with Tara, telling the directors he wouldn’t do the scene unless he could kiss you instead. So, they filmed it, perfectly angled to where you couldn’t tell the difference if he was kissing you or Tara. They loved how the scene turned out, the true passion shown in the kiss is what the scene needed.

comments, likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated xx

#rudy pankow imagines #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow fanfic #rudy pankow imagine #rudy pankow x y/n #rudy pankow x female!reader #rudy pankow x fem!reader #rudy pankow fanfiction #rudy pankow fanfics #rudy pankow fics #rudy pankow fic #obx imagines #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #obx fanfics #obx imagine #obx fics #obx fic

418 notes · View notes

rafeandonlyrafe · 7 months

Text

hey yall! it's rafeandonlyrafe (aka kt/katie). sorry for any panic i may have caused by deleting my old blog but it was a secondary account under i blog i really wanted to get rid of! so im back with this username as my main account and will be going through the process of reuploading all my old fics, but not tonight, because im seeing the other zoey in the morning!!

my old blog was football/soccer fanfiction and i recently became uncomfortable with writing for them. i received a lot of negative messages about this choice, so i decided the best thing i could do for myself was to completely start fresh. i would have warned people but it was a very rash decision that had to be done for my mental health, and i feel SUCH a big weight off my shoulders now just having this account.

also also i will be taking a littleeeee step away from writing only because im working on something REALLY exciting... a novel! that i'm planning to self publish on amazon. im sure it won't be good, but i've always wanted to write a full length book and i have some free time right now to write it so im going to go for it! i will not stop writing fics but they probably will slow down (even though i know i wasnt exactly consistent before)

#considered briefly remaking this under drewandonlydrew #bc i kinda want to write for trevor...#and probably zach after watching the movie tomorrow #but rafe is like. my real one love lol #also do we like the new layout #idk if i do tbh i may change it #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #obx fics #outer banks fics

25 notes · View notes

alx1q · 10 days

Text

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

!! Many of these story’s will be 18+.minors DNI, you will be blocked !!

────────────────────────

Rec lists!

Obx

Rafe Cameron!

Jj Maybank! - in the making

Sarah Cameron! - in the making

Bullet Train

Tangerine - in the making

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒

Credit!

Lace divider - @canibalias

Other divider - @pandefresas

#fanfiction recommendation #rec lists #obx fics #bullet train fanfic

2 notes · View notes

adventuresintheobx · 2 years

Text

EDIT: It’s sorted now and I’ve got my old blog back, but keeping this one in case it happens again! 🥰

Sooo my account (@/adventuresinobx) got terminated for no reason that I know of so whilst I’m trying to get it back, I’ve created this blog for the meantime, which will become my main blog if I can’t get the other one back..

Thankfully @starkeyobx is the biggest lifesaver in the world and has helped me locate all my fics (which I hadn’t backed up before - so a big thank you to her!

I’ll be waiting to find out what happens to my other blog before I decide whether to re-upload my fics but hi I’m back, you couldn’t get rid of me that that easily 😂😂

If anyone can reblog this please to let other people know, I’d be eternally grateful 🥰❤️

#outer banks #obx #obx fics #chase stokes #austin north #rudy pankow #jonathan daviss #drew starkey #jj maybank #topper thornton #rafe cameron #john b routledge #pope heyward

65 notes · View notes

pixelated-pogues · 1 year

Text

Gucci Induced Heartbreak (r.c)

Pairing(s): Rafe Cameron x Reader; JJ Maybank x best friend!reader

Summary: The girl from the Gucci store captivated Rafe's attention, and you never got it back. JJ helps gather the remnants of your broken pieces.

Warnings: Cursing, cheating, angst, asshole Rafe :)

Word Count: 5.7k

A/n: MY WORK IS ORIGINAL AND IS NOT TO BE COPIED OR REPOSTED ELSEWHERE. Be kind. DON'T steal other people's writing, thank you.

Gif Creds: @seredelgi

I wish I was that girl from that Gucci store She never wore any makeup and she owns couture I got pimples where my beauty marks should be I got dry skin on my elbows and knees

I never liked her, wanted to be like her Hate how you look at her, 'cause you never saw me Like I was an arm piece, like I was an ordinary girl

“Rafe, why do we even have to go to Gucci? We’ve had a hundred conversations about how ugly all of their products are. How many times have you insisted that their stuff looks like it’s modeled after the tackiest pieces you’d find in your grandmothers house?” You groan, not understanding why he’s suddenly so interested in a store that he’s always hated. Rafe rolls his eyes at your displeasure, continuing to guide you down the busy street toward Gucci. “Why waste time ogling over things that cost more than your bike?”

“Because, Y/n, there’s a pair of sunglasses that Ward absolutely despises, and I want to buy them for our trip to Boca next week, to piss him off,” he explains, making a point to hold the gaudy door open so that you can walk in. You shoot him a displeased glare, begrudgingly walking past him into the overly air conditioned building, immediately crinkling your nose at the strong scent that wafts into your nose upon entering. The Pogue side of you immediately switches into overdrive at the proper atmosphere of the building. There are countless couples and shoppers ogling over various overpriced products, each of them looking straight out of a vogue magazine with their perfectly pressed clothing and expensive accessories. You can’t help but feel out of place in the vast room, the only sense of normalcy you feel comes from Rafe’s arm slithering around your waist to guide you through various display cases.

“Rafe Cameron, it’s good to see you again,” a sickly sweet voice muses, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Your eyes follow the voice, confusion clouding your features due to the unexpected greeting. Your eyes fall on a woman that can’t be much older than you. She’s naturally gorgeous, no sign of makeup adorning her face as she shoots your boyfriend a, much too, friendly smile. Bile rises in your throat at the sight of her inadvertently scanning over Rafe with a hungry expression, completely oblivious to your presence.

"Ah, Marissa, the pleasure is all mine," Rafe's flirtatious tone only adds fuel to your inner fire, confusion coursing through your veins at their being on first name basis. Unsolicited insecurity embeds itself into your chest the longer you witness them staring at each other. The woman's beautiful attributes and unwavering confidence makes the crisp air in the room feel like it's choking you out. You're convinced that if you walked away right now, neither of them would notice, and that fact makes you wish it was possible to combust in the thin air. You suddenly feel very aware of the weight of Rafe's hand on the small of your back, the normally comforting touch feels fiery and tainted against the fabric of your shirt.

"Who's your friend?" Marissa questions, not tearing her eyes away from Rafe's as she nods in your direction. The boldness in her lack of even sparing you a glance only makes you feel smaller and more out of place.

"Girlfriend," you speak before you're able to catch yourself, noticing the way Rafe's hand dropped to his side the second Marissa addressed you. You look in his direction, expecting an introduction, but opt to speak for yourself when he doesn't. "I'm Y/n."

She shoots you an overly cheery grin, reaching to shake your hand. "Y/n, that's a pretty name." You can tell she's being inauthentic by the way her voice grows slightly more shrill as the complement rolls from her tongue. Her focus doesn’t stay on you for too long, her eyes dancing to Rafe again, the insincere complement she’d uttered seemingly wasting away with the passing moments. “Can I help you find anything?” The flirtatious tone comes back the second he’d focus returns to Rafe, making your blood run cold at the way he clearly appears to be eating up her attention.

You willingly become a shadow in the conversation, opting to watching their interaction unfold as though you’re nothing more than an irrelevant fly on the wall. While the flirtatious demeanor and seductive heart eyes she’s pointing at Rafe emit a sour taste in your mouth, all you can focus on are the stars in Rafe’s eyes as he drinks her in. The sudden suspicion that Gucci sunglasses weren’t Rafe's actual intention behind stopping at this god forsaken store hits you like a ton of bricks, making you feel embarrassed by the fact that he dragged you into this interaction with zero regard of how it'd make you feel to see him so engrossed in another girl.

You decide right then and there that you don't like this girl. This apparent goddess, in Rafe's eyes. Yet, the reason for the dislike can't fully be attributed to the way she's shamelessly undressing him with her eyes. While that fact is a valid reason for your dislike in her, a bigger part of you dislikes her because you envy her. You envy the way that Rafe's soaking in her presence, latching onto her every word. You envy the way that he looks at her like she formed the stars in the sky, because he's never looked at you like that. Not even the first time he he'd admitted to being in love with you.

Being in the the presence of another woman that Rafe seemingly idolizes makes him feel like a stranger next to you. Rather than being Y/n Y/l/n, the girl who tamed Rafe Cameron by teaching him what it's like to be loved, in this moment, you feel like a nameless bystander. Nothing more than an ordinary girl. And it leaves you spiraling, standing invisible as they carry on in fruitless conversation.

I wish I was special I'd give all my special Away to a loser Now I'm just a loser

Standing in the Gucci store, silenced by insecurity and frustration, all you can do is feel envious of Marissa while harboring a major resentment for your boyfriend. The entire situation makes you feel ridiculously small, a wave of sadness settling into your chest the longer you remain unaddressed. Everything in you screams at you to move, to at least excuse yourself and pretend to scale the items in the store while the two catch up, but your feet feel glued to the tile floor below them.

Your sadness only grows when self deprecating thoughts begin trickling to the forefront of your mind.

Maybe if I wasn’t entangled in friendships with the Pogues. Maybe if I learned to bite my tongue and smile pretty during business events. Maybe if I let Rafe do whatever he wanted, be it coke, be it dealing, be it getting handsy with other girls at parties. Maybe, just maybe, I’d be deemed as special in his eyes. Maybe I’d have even an inkling of what this girl has that makes her so special. Maybe I wouldn’t be and feel like such a loser. Your brain relents, causing your hands to tremble and your breath to catch in your throat. Your eyes sting with tears of humiliation, but you quickly blink away all evidence of them. The last thing you need is for either of them to catch you getting emotional.

God, Y/n, you’re so pathetic. You scold yourself, forcing a tight-lipped smile when their conversation ends and their focus returns back to you. You notice them that, in the midst of their conversation, Rafe secured the sunglasses he came for. They’re now perched on the edge of his nose as his arm moves to snake around your waist again, the comforting touch feels insincere now that you’ve witnessed the way he looks at her.

“Ready to go,” Rafe asks, glancing down at you the second Marissa walks away to assist another customer.

“Yeah,” you hummed, your voice feeling poisonous on your tongue.

I used to be special But you made me hate me Regret that I changed me I hate that you made Just like you

You gon' hear mouth, you could kick me out You say I'm too wild, you gon' hate me now

"You're too wild, Y/n," Rafe's voice was condescending and low when he addressed you. His hand ripped through his previously styled hair after slamming the driver's side door, locking you both into the confined space. His eyes pierced through you, clear disapproval etched onto his expression as he glared deep into your eyes. The pressed suit he wore to the business event was wrinkled, no longer pristine due to being jostled in his manhandling you while dragging you out of the club to save himself further embarrassment.

You couldn't contain the bitter laugh that bubbled from your chest after he uttered those words, disbelief replacing the anger you were feeling when he shamelessly allowed that woman to throw herself all over him in front of everyone, knowing you were standing right there. "Of course that's all you have to say to me right now," you snorted, breaking eye contact to slide the uncomfortable heels from your feet. You needed something else to focus on outside of his insufferable gaze.

"What the hell else am I supposed to say? You know how important this event was for my family, and you just had to make a scene and ruin our chances of a normal night of business," he seethed, ripping at his tie. "Jesus Christ, you're a fucking child."

"I'm the child," you released an incredulous scoff, the insincere smirk on your painted lips growing. "That's right, I'm the immature one in this relationship. Have you stopped to realize that I wouldn't have caused a scene if you had enough respect for me to keep other women's paws off you? Hm? You didn't seem too concerned with your reputation when she was trying to rip your jacket off."

"That's enough," he barked, slamming his fist against the steering wheel, earning a startled jump from you. Your reaction gave him enough reason to compose himself. He sucked in a sharp breath and blinked his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose before straightening in his seat with a clenched jaw, finding you with his eyes again. "That's enough, Y/n. Your insecurity in yourself isn't enough reason for an unprofessional outburst in public. I get that you're half pogue, but that doesn't mean I need you flaunting it during business dinners like it's some special prize. Reputation may not be a big deal to you, but it matters a whole lot to Ward. If you want to keep him from forcefully extracting you from this equation, you'll hold your tongue next time your pride feels threatened by another woman."

Your jaw dropped at the audacity he had to utter those words to you. Of course he couldn't, or wouldn't, see your side. Of course he wouldn't admit that he should've had enough respect to politely deter the woman's advances. In Rafe's eyes, he's never wrong. Conflict and disappointment always fell on everyone else when it comes to him.

"Your insecurity isn't enough reason for an unprofessional outburst in public." "..hold your tongue next time your pride feels threatened by another woman." Rafe's words echoed through your mind the entire way home that night, your heart heavy with their hurtful connotations which you couldn't help but accept over yourself during the drive. It was one of the many times you were left to accept false realities over yourself after a situation that could’ve been shut down had he spoken up for your relationship.

You’ve always felt that having your feet on both sides of the island, being half pogue & half kook, made you special with your ability to understand both sides. Yet, Rafe always makes a point to remind you that your Pogue side makes you a liability, it hinders you from being extraordinary. At first, you told him off about it, throwing his antics right back at him whenever he declared that being half pogue was a major flaw. As the months dragged on though, the constant reminders, warnings, and arguments were tiring. You love Rafe and every arrogant, infuriating, slightly manipulative aspect about him. So, you stopped letting him hear your mouth. You stopped talking back and instead took everything that he had to say about your inescapable flaws, internalizing them. Eventually letting them silence you completely as you became the cookie cutter girlfriend he appeared to want.

That’s what you do when you’re in love. You compromise, no matter what it costs you. Right?

Boy, you got me fucked up, now I'm gettin' fucked up Thinkin' 'bout us fuckin', why you'd have to fuck her?

"Rafe, what the-" you stop in your tracks, jaw falling slack, at the sight of him in bed with another girl. "Rafe, what the fuck." Your voice comes out low and bitter, eyes trying to make sense of the scene in front of you as they scramble to separate from each other, clearly surprised by your presence. Rafe clamors out of his bed, swiftly pulling his boxers back on while you stand unmoving, in complete shock. Your fight or flight reflexes appear nonexistent as you freeze completely, the room spinning as Rafe approaches you.

"Y/n," he begins, eyes lacking any trace of sympathy as he grasps your face in his hands. "You weren't supposed to see this."

"You told me to come over an hour ago," you spit, shocked that any words rolled from your tongue in your seemingly vegetative state. "How am I supposed to believe that you didn't want me to see you fucking another girl?"

"It's nothing personal, baby. This is on me," he continues, resisting the urge to turn around at the sound of his guest shuffling out of his bed in nothing but his t-shirt.

"Obviously this is on you," you agree, words dripping with malice. "You're a piece of shit, and in case it isn't obvious, we're done."

With that, you shove him away from you, feeling accomplished when he stumbles backwards, managing to catch himself before he crashes to the floor. "I hope she was worth it." Your breath catches in your throat when the girls identity registers in your mind. The girl from the Gucci store. Marissa. The realization hits you like a freight train, carrying you out of Tannyhill hastily. Your brain solely focused on exiting the house as fast as possible.

****

"Y/n," JJ calls after noticing you approaching them on the beach. He rushes to embrace you once you’re close enough, the water droplets on his tan skin dampening your clothes. "We didn't think you were coming." A light smile forms on your lips when he blots at a wet spot on your shirt with an apologetic grimace.

"I wasn't," you hum, keeping your voice and stature light. "Last minute change of plans but I'm here and I brought snacks for everyone. Maybe a bit of alcohol for me." JJ's eyebrows furrow, his eyes subtly doing a once over on you, knowing fully well that you only willingly provide alcohol when shit hits the fan or there's something worth celebrating. Kie runs to greet you before he can question it, immediately dragging you towards the rest of the Pogues. You refrain from meeting the concerned look JJ's been sending your way since you walked onto the beach.

"You're drunk at five o'clock on a Tuesday, Y/n. What gives?" JJ asks, knowing full well that your filter disappears after a few drinks. Everyone’s seated in a circle on the sand playing a game of truth or dare, letting the afternoon sun dry your wet clothes.

“You’re supposed to say, Y/n, truth or dare. You can't just assume I'm picking truth,” you state matter of factly, taking another swig of the drink in your hand. Silently testing JJ with the sarcasm lacing your slurred words.

“Okay, you got me, Y/n, truth or dare?” His eyes are expectant, clear anticipation showing in his raised eyebrows.

“Dare,” you wink, a shit-eating grin on my face at the sight of his shoulders deflating in defeat.

“I dare you to jump off the dock, alone,” he huffs, obviously displeased by the obvious deflection.

“That’s too easy. You’re too kind to me, J,” you giggle, kicking your shoes off. You shrug your flannel off and take a big breath. “Rafe cheated on me.” You’re bolting toward the dock, enjoying the feeling of the wind whipping against your face at the break of dawn before you can catch any of their reactions. You miss the looks of shock plastered on all of their faces, and the way JJ immediately rushes after your retreating figure, calling your name as you sprint to the furthest dock without a second glance. Your speed and coordination shocks you due to the sheer amount of alcohol coursing through your veins, but you don’t falter, allowing your feet to carry you over the aged boards as you anticipate the fall.

“Y/n,” JJ shouts from behind as you near the edge of the dock, the sound of the waves crashing below only adding to your adrenaline high, which started the second you dropped the bombshell of your ended relationship on them without second thought. You reach the last of the dock before he can stop you. Your foot beats against the wood one last time before you shoot into the air, arms out as though you’re taking flight. Time slows as you stare at the horizon before the view is torn away when you collide with the water.

The sheer momentum from running, partnered with the crashing of the waves, drags you further and further into the waters depths. Rather than fighting against the current, your body freezes, instinctively letting the breath inside your lungs escape in a mass of bubbles, slipping away for several moments. Peace floods your chest as the water tears the weight of the last several hours away. You let yourself go with the waves, body unmoving while the water takes its course.

The next thing I know, I’m being dragging out of the ocean and onto the beach. There’s a series of yelling as my body falls limp against the sand. The weight of someone’s body comes over me, their hand softly, yet firmly, smacking against my cheek in an attempt to pull me back to a conscious state. In a matter of seconds I’m sputtering and coughing up the water I’d sucked in moments before, my lungs screaming for a breath of fresh air as my eyes fly open, immediately falling on my friends who are gathered around me in a panic.

“What the hell was that Y/n?! What were you thinking, you could’ve gotten yourself killed,” JJ exclaims, his hands falling on my shoulders now that I’m awake.

“JJ, let her breathe,” John B instructs, carefully dragging JJ from his position on top of me while Kie and Pope help me sit up. JJ follows John B, his hands flying everywhere while he rambles incoherent words while John B does his best at consoling him.

“Here,” Kie breathes, draping a towel across my shoulders which I gladly accept. I tap her hand gently as a silent ‘thank you’ my eyes instinctively drifting back to the horizon where the sun has fully began setting. Heaviness welcomes itself back on my chest with the reality crashing back onto me like the waves did moments ago. My body constricts on itself, my arms tangling themselves around my legs when they fold against my chest. There's a heavy ringing in my ears, drowning out Kie and Pope's voices asking if I'm okay.

"Y/n," Kie's voice sounds distant, but you feel her collapse next to you, promptly throwing her arms around your trembling frame. She pulls your head into her chest, her hand running up and down your back in a comforting manner while your eyes remain fixed in front of you in a daze.

"I didn't mean to scare everyone," you whisper, voice trembling with the tears stinging the back of your eyes. "I just needed it to stop for a second. I can't believe I thought he changed."

"Oh Y/n," she pouts, pulling you closer to her. The tone in her voice is what sends the tears pouring down your cheeks partnered with strangled sobs. More bodies surround the pair of you as you unfold, becoming a blubbering mess of heartbroken cries.

"That was stupid," JJ scolds, dropping on his knees in front of you, cupping your face in his hands to give himself a little extra assurance that you're okay. His thumbs swipes at the ongoing mass of tears pouring down your cheeks, the frown on his lips creasing his brows together as he studies you. "Being the idiot in the group is my job. I don't need you trying to take my spot." His words successfully lighten the dim mood, earning a watery laugh from you as he pulls you against his chest. Shooting John B a sad look as your body molds against him, his heart still hammering in his chest due to the fact that he'd nearly lost you to the high tide of the sea.

I don't wanna see you, why'd you have to treat me Like I was an ordinary girl?

A few weeks later, you're at the boneyard with the Pogues, and a good half of the island, enjoying a kegger to take advantage of the crispy summer breeze.

"Do a shot with me," you command to no one in particular, unconvinced that any of the random people around you by the fire actually heard the request. Your eyes blearily search the group to see if any of them make even the slightest move to humor you through shots.

"Come on kid," JJ interrupts your haze, his hand on the small of your back as he helps you off the stump you're seated on. "I'll do one with you."

"This is why you're my favorite," you gush, shamelessly leaning against him as he guides you toward the booze table.

"If taking a few shots with you is what it takes to be your favorite, I should've been your favorite person a long time ago," he jokes, slipping a disposable shot glass in your hand, humoring you. You graciously tip the cup in his direction as a wordless "thank you," your blushed cheeks beaming with the smile you're directing at him. He notices that it doesn't quite reach your eyes, but chooses not to comment on it. Knowing that your hurt from Rafe's betrayal is still so fresh and that you're utilizing alcohol to cope tonight, he doesn't want to be the one to distract you from the attempted progress.

"You've always been my favorite person," you admit. Though there's still a lighthearted aura around the two of you, your words drip with a sincerity that doesn't go unnoticed by him, humbling the heavy heart in his chest as he studies you.

"Good," he hums, knocking his cup against your gently. "You've always been my favorite person too, and it'd be really awkward for both of us if you didn't reciprocate the feelings. Now, what do you say? Can we drink to that?"

"Hell yeah, we can drink to that," you giggle, knocking your cups together one more time before welcoming the stale liquid into your mouth, letting it coat the walls of your dry throat. JJ smiles fondly at you, watching as you immediately turn to find another drink, mumbling incoherent words in his direction. Once you find the beer you were looking for, you slide one into JJ's hand, accepting the arm he throws over your shoulder to lead you back to where the rest of the Pogues are seated.

The rest of the night carries on for several hours until your alcohol driven carefree energy depletes, welcoming your sleepy drunk side with open arms. Your eyes droop as you fully lean into JJ's side, who's got his arm draped across your shoulder as he carries on with a few tourons who'd seen him surfing several days prior.

"Yeah, man, I'm going back out tomorrow if you want to join," he tells them, catching the exhaustion oozing from your position against his side. "Listen, we've got to get out of here, but I'll be at that same spot around noon. Meet me there if you guys are free." Each of them nod, a few of them dabbing him up before the two of you retreat.

You grumble into his shoulder at the movement, having been enjoying the opportunity to get comfortable where you two were standing.

"Tired sweetheart?" he asks, scanning the plethora of people in hopes to find John B and the rest of the group. He tuts his tongue at the sight of Pope, practically dragging you to where he's seated next to Kiara. You simply nod against his chest, shivering due to the temperature that's dropped drastically since the sun disappeared over the horizon. "Yo, Pope, round the troops. Princess needs sleep." Pope glances in your direction, nodding in understanding before ending the conversation he'd been in. JJ follows his friends retreating figure for a second before turning the two of you around to make the short trek to the Twinkie. You'll be able to get comfortable while Pope gathers the rest of the Pogues, and that's JJ's sole focus due to the fact that you're fighting to keep your eyes open.

Several minutes later, the rest of the group is filing into the Twinke, sliding into random spots around the van as John B starts the ignition.

"We good? Everyone's here?" he asks, shifting the van in reverse. After being assured that everyone is accounted for, he pulls off of the beach, making the short drive back to the Chatteau.

"Alright, sleepyhead, let's get you inside," JJ instructs, shaking your sleeping figure awake one the van pulls into the driveway. Everyone files out before JJ moves to help you up.

"Too much moving," you grumble, folding against the seat you've been napping in. "Just let me sleep in here."

JJ rolls his eyes at your antics, not releasing your arm from the gentle hold he has on it to help you out of the vehicle. "No can do, sweetheart. You'll be complaining for the next week about how your neck hurts from sleeping like that, and I refuse to endure that. If you sit up long enough, I'll let you ride my back into the house." He smiles when you straighten up at his words, immediately climbing onto his back which he promptly offered you. His arms hook around the bottom of your thighs to steady you against him, making sure that you're situated before he guides you into the house, passing all of the Pogues to get to the guest room.

"Home sweet home," he breathes, carefully setting you on the bed to find more comfortable clothes for you to sleep in. "Here you go, tiny."

You smile at the nickname he'd given you back when you were in elementary school, gladly accepting the small pile of clothes he hands you. "I'm gonna change in here," you inform him, your smile growing when he immediately nods, spinning to face the wall so that you have privacy to do so.

The second you're both changed, JJ switches the light off and meets you by the bed. He tucks you into the covers, combing his fingers through your hair as he sits in the space next to you. You hum at the feeling, unable to keep your eyes from drooping further.

"You're lucky you're my favorite. I don't just give my bed to anyone," he teases after a few seconds of favorable silence, his heart swelling at the way his presence seems to ease the emotions swirling behind your tired eyes.

You scoff at him, thinking back to the amount of times he's shared this bed with other people. "Actually," you begin, but pause, unsure of what you're even thinking about saying before the question rolls from your tongue. "Can you stay with me? I don't really want to be alone."

He blinks at you from his spot, barely making out your features before he nods. His voice is steady as he murmurs, "Of course." He accepts the spot next to you as his own, unsure why he feels so shy about sharing the bed with you. Having grown up together, you've fallen asleep together countless times. You've even crashed in his bed here, and vice versa, but that doesn't stop a humble feeling from spreading through his chest as you cuddle into him.

I wish I was special I'd give all my special Away to a loser Now I'm just a loser I used to be special But you made me hate me Regret that I changed me I hate that you made just like you Just like you

"I hate myself," you breathe after several moments of silence. The utterance of your inner truth brings a fresh round of bitter tears to your eyes, which you hurriedly wipe away, hating the bile rising up your throat at the brief moment of vulnerability.

"Don't say that," JJ hums, reaching to brush your hair away from your face. His voice is stern, but there's an undertone of sadness to match the look in his eyes.

"It's true," a forced laugh bubbles from your chest, furthering the anguish threatening to burst out of you. "I hate myself so much." There's a heavy silence after the words roll from your tongue, JJ's hand lingers on your cheek for a moment before falling dormant against the mattress, along with all of the words he clearly wants to say. "Why couldn't I have just been enough?" The words were whispered more to yourself than to JJ, it was meant to be an unspoken thought but your mouth opted to spew it regardless. Normally you'd feel embarrassed for unintentionally allowing yourself to be vulnerable, but the heaviness in your entire being is consuming all of the excess energy you have left, so you can't force yourself to care.

"Woah, woah, woah," JJ's voice intercepts you from your inner turmoil again, your eyes tearfully meeting his. The look on his face makes your heart clench further, the sadness in the pit of your stomach churning into guilt prompted by over sharing. “I can’t, in good conscience, be your best friend and let you bash yourself on that assho-on Rafe’s account. Y/n, I’m going to say something, and I really need you to hear me.” He pauses, eyes scanning your face to ensure that he’s got your full attention.

He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it, instead moving to cup your face in his hands so that your eyes lock solely on him rather than insecurely bouncing all over the dark room. “He has you convinced that you’re a million things, but everything he’s forced into your head is wrong.” He takes a deep breath, wiping a stray tear away with his thumb. “You are more than enough, you understand? I get that you might not be able to accept that right now, but that’s the full truth. And I’ll be right here proving it to you until you believe me, you got that? No pogue left behind, ever. Especially not you. Especially not on some lowlife kook, who didn’t know how great he had it’s, account. I need to know you’re hearing me.” He finally pauses in the middle of his short rant, hands and eyes remained delicately locked in their original position, acting as glue holding your pieces together. He stares deeply into your eyes, silently searching for his answer before speaking again. “Are you hearing me?”

Your lips wobble at the interaction, eyes unable to bat away the reservoir of tears threatening to spill over your eyelids. Unable to trust your words, you nod, your hands gripping the front of his t-shirt for support.

“I need to hear you say it,” he murmurs, his expression soft yet stern.

“I’m hearing you,” you choke out, before erupting into a full on sobbing fit. He quickly shifts to wrap his arms around your shoulders to pull you flush against his chest. Your back twinges at the awkward position you're in, but the emotions bubbling from your chest keep you from having the energy to care as you fully break down against him, your hands balling themselves in the back of his shirt.

Weeks worth of a broken heart, self deprecation, anger, replaying scenarios over and over in your head, and various other emotions unapologetically pour from your chest while he steadies you against him, his comforting antics not faltering for a moment.

“I’ve got you,” he breathes into your hair, kissing the crown of your head. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

"He's such an asshole," you tearfully groan, feeling ridiculous for wasting your time on the king of the kooks. "God, I feel like I molded myself into exactly what he wanted me to be, and for what?"

"Rafe's blind, Y/n," he responds, pulling back s he can rest his chin on top of your head. "And you're far too kind for a guy that didn't accept all of the qualities that make you so special."

You can't help but physically cringe at the word. You stopped feeling special the second Rafe convinced you that your Pogues side was a hindrance to your personality, a flaw in your relationship. The moment you realized he viewed that side of you as an eyesore, you did everything in your power to shield it from him, and seemingly lost yourself in the process.

"I don't feel special," you state with a sigh, wiping the leftover remnants of tears from your cheeks. You're over crying over the man who climbed in bed with another woman.

"Just because you don't feel special doesn't mean you are," JJ hums, snaking his arm around your waist. "I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if that's what it takes to make you believe it."

A sad laugh sounds from your chest at his promise, knowing that JJ means everything he's said. "I don't know what I did to deserve you, Maybank."

*************************************

A/N: Here's another draft that I finally dusted the spiderwebs off of and finished up. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Tags: @thelocalpogue @maaybanks @drewstarkey @ssjiara @bluebirdsbluebells @maebanks @poguemackin @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar @outerbongs @ilovejjmaybank @marvel-writer @astrydis @hijohnd @pogueslandia @scenesofobx @maybankslover @fallingwallsh

182 notes · View notes