#kook!pope x black reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

featherandferns · 4 months

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risk (fic)

jj maybank x fem!kook!reader | partly inspired by this incredible scene

content warnings: sexual content; physical violence

word count: 18k.

blurb: after a hurricane, a Labrador shows up at JJ's house. After some posters go up around the country, JJ begrudgingly returns the dog to you on Figure Eight. Little did he know that his life was about to change forever.

This is actually insane.

JJ has no idea how everything went to shit faster than a penny falling from the top of the Empire State Building. It seems to be the crux of his life.

One minute Rafe is beating the shit out of JJ’s face, Kelce holding him tight in a headlock, with Pope being strangled to his right by Topper, and the next everyone is still like rock.

There you stand, holding up a gun, safety unlatched, with the aim set directly at the centre of Rafe’s forehead. He’s already called your bluff once. It’s a classic Mexican stand-off. Nobody knows what you’re going to do next, not even JJ. Hell, he’s not even sure if you know what you’ll do next.

And it’s crazy to think that all of this started because of a dog.

Two Months Earlier

It always sucks when JJ admits to himself that Kiara was right. She was right about most things, in fairness, but just this once – just for a change – he had hoped that she wasn’t.

The blonde-haired boy stands in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at a poster taped to a streetlamp. His teeth gnaw on his lower lip in thought as he tugs the poster free, as if gaining a closer look might change what he sees.

MISSING DOG

IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO 12 SILVER CANOE WAY, FIGURE EIGHT

REWARD AVAILABLE

The picture is an uncanny reflection of the dog currently sat by JJ’s feet. He’s panting in the sun, blissfully unaware of the curveball tossed at his temporary owner. As JJ looks from the black-and-white poster to the middle-aged dog, he has to begrudgingly admit to himself that Kiara was right. This dog wasn’t a stray. Instead, he was the pet of some bratty, spoilt Kook.

“Whose dog is that?” Kiara asks.

JJ follows her gaze to the labrador cosied up on the porch, soaking up the sun like it was his God-given right.

“Mine,” he says.

“Yours?”

“Yeah, he just showed up after the hurricane."

It was true. The morning after the hurricane, JJ ventured out of his house to assess the damage only to hear a rustling and whimper from under the porch. Getting down on his hands and knees, expecting to find some beaten racoon, JJ came face to face with a petrified, middle-aged labrador. No collar. His cream coat was covered in dirt and dust and a small cut near his eye told JJ he’d found his way to his house during the hurricane, likely seeking shelter. After he coaxed him out with some fresh fish, the dog seemed to take a liking to the seventeen-year-old. JJ took it as the dog distribution system shining the light on him but Kiara didn’t seem so sure.

“And you’re just gonna claim him?”

“He’s a stray,” JJ tells her.

She looks to the dog again, then back to JJ. Her face essentially says, ‘seriously, dude?’

“He is!”

“A dog that well-groomed and that well fed is not a stray, and you know it.”

JJ’s stomach twists. He’d thought the same thing once he’d given the dog a wipe down. A full stomach, trimmed fur, trained to do more than just sit…Strays don’t come like that in Kildare County. But JJ liked the company the dog brought. He’d always wanted one, ever since he was a kid, but his dad would never allow it. Waste of money and food, he’d say. But so far, JJ had managed to keep the dog’s existence on the downlow. He wasn’t very loud or yappy. In fact, he was as calm as sea turtle. JJ liked the bond that had so quickly grown between them. So, swallowing the faint feeling of guilt of keeping someone’s dog, he tells Kiara:

“Well, until someone puts a poster up, I’m sticking to my gut. He’s a stray and he belongs with me.”

It’s like the universe was calling his bluff or something.

JJ crumples the poster in his fist, litters it on the street, and gently tugs on the leash.

“Come on, boy,” he mutters.

The dog gets to its feet and follows JJ down the street, back to the Chateau. He seems rather drained from the brief walk around the cut. Curls up by the front door in a patch of shade, yawning before nestling his head between his large paws for a nap. JJ watches him from the kitchen as he sips on a cold cider. His mind is in battle between right and wrong (as it usually is) as he contemplates the poster.

Kiara nearly falls over the dog as she walks into the Chateau. Then, she shoots a deadly glare to JJ.

“You didn’t go to the vet, did you?”

“Who actually microchips their pets, anyway?”

“Most people, JJ. It’s a clever way to make sure you get your dog back if, let’s say, it runs off in a hurricane without a collar,” Kie returns.

JJ rolls his eyes and takes another swig of his drink. “I’ll take him tomorrow.”

“Actually, there’s no need,” Kiara says. She walks across the room to him and pulls something from her back pocket. As she unfolds the rectangle of paper, JJ comes face to face with the very poster that had been occupying his mind for the past half hour. She holds it out to him.

“See? This is someone’s dog.”

“That could be any dog,” JJ lies.

Kiara quirks a brow. JJ breaks easily, sighing.

“Look, can we just consider the possibility that this dog would be happier with me?” JJ argues. He ditches his cider and makes his way over to the animal. “I mean, he likes me, Kie. And he listens to me. And I like having him around.”

Lowering to his knees, he pets the dog awake from his slumber. He makes an adorable grumbling-whine as he rouses from his sleep. Looking over to Kiara, JJ must resemble an eight-year-old begging their parents for candy at the grocery store.

“I’ll take good care of him,” he promises.

Kiara sighs. Her icy exterior softens, features overcome with sympathy. She joins him and the dog on the floor, scratching at the pet’s back.

“I know you will, JJ,” she says. “But this is someone’s pet. And they clearly want him back. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Since when do I ever do the right thing?” JJ mumbles. He looks down to meet the chocolate brown eyes of his new best friend.

“Since today, hopefully.”

JJ holds the dog’s gaze. There’s such tenderness in his eyes, as the dog stares up at him. Makes JJ feel as though he is the most important thing on this earth. Dogs don’t care about money or mind: you treat them right and give them a good stick, and they’ll be happy forever. Unconditional love like that is rare to find in humans. It seems to JJ like it’s almost impossible, really. But then he thinks of the dog looking at a little girl or boy like that, and how (as spoilt as they may be) the child feels nothing but love for the dog in return. It seems cruel to take that away. He knows deep down what the right thing is. The moral thing.

“Tomorrow,” JJ quietly says. Looking up, meeting Kiara’s eyes, he nods reluctantly. “I’ll take him to the house tomorrow.”

She smiles smally, nodding to herself. Getting to her feet, she leaves JJ alone with the dog to enjoy the last few hours of time together. He ends up falling asleep on the pull-out couch with the dog, face buried in the scruff of his neck, as he unconsciously counts down the hours left until he gives him back.

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

JJ stretches out the walk to the house for as long as possible. He lets the dog sniff at every scent and even tries to coax a million pee breaks out of him. He lingers by the sea, stroking the dog’s fur, and shares a hot dog as they pass a gas station. Eventually, they arrive at Figure Eight. The hurricane left the cell towers down on The Cut, so he didn’t bother with his phone. That leaves him to follow street signs until he’s making his way up Silver Canoe Way.

The houses are insane. Marvels of architecture and money. Bright green hedges trimmed into the most obscure shapes; useless statutes standing pretty in front gardens, protected by walls and security cameras. Fountains on almost every property, and a pool probably found in every back garden. Lucky sons of bitches.

House 12 is gorgeous: cream stone bricks and oak-style wood accents. There isn’t a gate, which is curious considering all the others down the road have one. JJ feels as though he’s trespassing as he makes his way up the driveway. There's not a single weed sprouting between paving slabs. There’re two cars in the driveway, each probably cost more than his life insurance pay-out. He imagines birds that dare shit on them get taxed: it’s the only way to explain their cleanliness. God, living like this and he can half understand why Kooks are as obnoxious as they are. What appear to be marble steps lead to a huge front door. The dog seems to know where he is, tugging excitedly on the leash as he guides JJ up the stairs.

JJ stands for a long moment. He looks down at the dog, takes in its wagging tail, and sighs. As he lifts his fist to rap against the door, it swings open. JJ is just as stunned as you. He doesn’t have time to apologise for startling you, because your eyes drop from JJ to the barking dog. You sink to the floor, mouth falling open, and willingly let your dog tackle you in a hug. His leash slips from JJ’s hold. You scruff the dog’s neck, press kisses all over his face, and giggle tearfully as your dog greets you after almost a week apart.

“Oh my God! Ranger! Oh my God!” you happily cry over and over again.

JJ immediately feels evil for even contemplating keeping your dog, Ranger, to himself.

The moment Ranger seems to gain some composure, you remember JJ’s existence. Looking up, you quickly wipe away your tears from under your eyes and clamber back to your feet.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I’m so rude!” you laugh, sticking out a hand. He shakes it as you introduce yourself.

“JJ,” he replies.

There’s a moment of recognition that passes over your face but it’s gone as soon as it comes, like the flash of green at sunset on the horizon.

“Thank you so much,” you say. One of your hands reaches down to ruffle at Ranger’s neck. JJ takes in how happy he is, staring up at you, grinning and panting, tongue out with exertion. “Where did you find him?”

“He kinda found me,” JJ replies, scratching the back of his neck. “Showed up under my house just after the hurricane. Guessing he got spooked or something.”

“That’s what we think happened,” you say. “I woke up to find the backdoor open. He must have jumped and bolted; he frightens easy, you see. I felt awful when I realised he was gone.”

As JJ listens to you speak, he’s partly distracted. It’s hard to follow along to what you say when you’re standing gorgeous like the first day of June.

“Well, like I said, it’s no trouble,” JJ repeats.

You smile brighter than a brand-new penny, teeth pearly white and perfect aligned. JJ doubts you ever needed braces. Probably born with a set of veneers. It’s with that bitter thought that he reminds himself what he’s dealing with here. A kook who lives in nothing short of a mansion, who can’t even keep her dog inside during a hurricane.

“The, uh, poster said something about a reward…” JJ awkwardly mentions.

Your face dawns with realisation and he momentarily feels guilty, but then you’re nodding fervently. “Of course! God, I can’t believe I forgot!”

“I mean, I would have brought him back anyway,” JJ bold face lies.

“No, don’t be silly, it’s the least I owe.” You pull your door open. “Come in, please,” you say, heading into your home.

JJ falters in the doorway. It feels as though even stepping into your home might put him short of a few hundred bucks, just from breathing the air. He follows the route you took into the house, closing the door behind him. The minute he’s out of the entryway and in the main corridor, his eyes widen like he’s witnessing a supernova.

“Holy super kook,” he mutters, gaping at the interior.

Marble everything. Expensive obnoxious artwork that must only be interpretable once you reach a certain tax bracket. Framed photos of yourself and your family on the wall at various vacation spots: France, Italy, Mexico, China. There are others, too, of dance recitals. A shelf of trophies and awards. Ornaments and figurines standing on podiums like he’s in a museum. JJ’s terrified to walk, as if one step might send everything falling off the walls.

He finds himself blindly following you into the kitchen. It’s crystal clean and white. Granite counter tops beautifully cluttered with every appliance you can imagine. You head to the fridge.

“You want a drink?”

“Uh, sure. Water’s fine, thanks,” JJ replies.

You nod and grab a glass that probably costs JJ’s entire monthly wage. Then you go to your fridge (it has a touchscreen for Christ’s sake) and dispense ice cold water. Holding it out to him, you smile, sweet like buttercream.

JJ sips and watches as you reach for a bag that lies on the kitchen counter, retrieving a wallet. Holding out two fifties, you wait for him to take them. His eyes stare at the unwrinkled notes. JJ’s momentary pause makes you frown.

“Sorry, that’s a bit tight of me, isn’t it?” you say. You dip into the bottomless wallet and retrieve another fifty. “Is that enough?”

“Uh, I couldn’t…” He clears his throat and finally snaps out of his stupor. Taking the money, he passes two fifties back, saying, “I can’t take all of this.”

You shake your head and push the money back towards him.

“I insist. You brought my dog back! I should be giving you more,” you say.

JJ holds back his laugh.

More? It’s a fucking dog! You’re about to give him $150 for a Goddamn seven-year-old labrador? God, Kooks really do just think different.

He looks up from the money and takes you in, properly this time. JJ recognises you. Not from keggers or house parties – he’s seen you at neither of those things – but from church. He used to be subjected to Sunday school in a desperate bid to ‘send him on the right life path’, and he could remember seeing you there. You’d attend the service, sat safe in your father’s shadow. Even though JJ stopped going, he’d still see people heading in the direction of the county church if he were in the area. You were a regular. Dressed in the prettiest dresses, hair perfect and proper, jewellery to the nines, always sandwiched between your mother and father. You didn’t indulge in the debauchery that most teenagers on the island did. JJ would know if he’d spotted you at one of the many hangs; you had the kind of beauty that demanded to be seen, like a rare bird on the marsh. No, girls like you didn’t partake in those things. You spent time with your parents and a small circle of Church friends, probably just as sheltered and saintly as yourself, and was in bed before sunset and awake before sunrise.

And yet, you never rubbed JJ the wrong way like all the other Kooks did. He didn’t know you from Adam – in fact, the first time he’d ever shared a word with you was today – but something about you…You seemed different. Genuine. Rich, no doubt, but not exactly snobbish.

An idea suddenly comes to JJ. It’s stupid, and rather out of character given his prejudices, but for some reason, it’s miles more appealing than $150. A part of him wonders where his sudden charity is coming from. Maybe it’s something about your personality and his underlying infatuation he’s had with you since Sunday school. Maybe it’s your dog and how doting he appears to be of you. Hell, maybe it’s because you’re pretty. JJ’s always been a sucker for pretty girls – Kook or not – and he’s always wanted the things that he can’t have.

All these thoughts race through his head at a hundred miles an hour, and there’s only half a minute that passes before JJ speaks.

“How ‘bout this?” he says. “I take a fifty, and you let me take you out.”

You blink once, then twice. “Take me out? Like…on a date?”

“Yeah,” JJ nods. The fact that your whole face didn’t immediately shrivel up like a prune at the suggestion gives JJ hope that he might have a chance. “What’d you say?”

There’s a moment where your eyes dip down to Ranger. He’s sat at your feet, watching the two of you interact with his tongue hanging out, mouth in a seeming smile. The second your eyes lock with your dog's, you look back to JJ with new-found confidence.

“Depends,” you say, correcting your posture, chin held high. “What did you have in mind?”

JJ’s never had to pitch a date to a girl before in his life. Usually he asks and they’re there: hook, line and sinker. His brain thinks hard and fast. “I can pick you up. Go for a drive, grab a bite maybe. Get to know one another,” he says.

You quirk a brow. “Is that all?”

Of course, you have standards. Hell, the guys that court you probably dine you at The Ritz and gift you a Rolex. JJ isn’t deterred though. Instead, he’s rather amused.

With a boyish grin, he says, “princess, I promise one date with me and I’ll change your life forever.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Bold statement to make, Maybank.”

JJ takes note of how you know his last name and thinks back to when he introduced himself; that strange flash of recognition on your face. You know who he is and yet, you’re entertaining the idea of letting him take you out. Curiouser and curiouser.

JJ doesn’t beg or barter. Instead, he just stares you down, waiting for your response as you visibly contemplate his offer. There’s a hint of a smile on your face, the type that might come when you’re trying to suss someone out. It’s barely there but JJ’s sure he can see it. He knows that look all too well.

“When would this be?”

JJ’s painfully aware of how desperate he may sound as he says, “Tomorrow night?”

“I have ballet practice tomorrow.”

“Thursday then.”

“Piano recital.”

“Jesus, woman,” he can’t help but mutter. It makes you smile.

“I’m free Friday,” you offer.

And, holy shit, no way you’re actually agreeing to this. JJ hopes the shock doesn't show on his face.

“Friday works. The, uh, cell towers are down on The Cut so how ‘bout I just pick you up? Seven thirty sound good?”

“Sure.”

You speak in a manner that tries to give the impression that this whole conversation is rather mundane to you. That you have Pogues asking you out every other hour, almost like a nine-to-five job.

“But pick me up on the street outside, not in the driveway.”

JJ doesn’t question it. He’s not going to argue to your terms when he’s somehow landed a date with the hottest, goody-two-shoes kook in Kildare.

“Alright. On the street, Friday at seven thirty. Wear something pretty, yeah?”

Your brows quirk. “Any other demands?”

“Yeah. Give me a fair chance?” JJ wonders, half-joking.

Your eyes flit from JJ’s face, down his body, right to his toes, and back again. Smiling, sweet like cotton candy, you reply, “I think I can do that.”

His body goes ice cold. JJ nods, cementing the dates and times in his memory like he’s remembering nuclear launch codes.

“Then, I guess I’ll see you soon, princess."

“I guess so,” you say, returning the leftover fifties to your wallet. JJ pockets his fifty, gives one last pet to Ranger in farewell, and shows himself to the front door. As it shuts behind him, JJ leans against it. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. Then, he laughs. He laughs and laughs, mouth upturned in an astounded smile, and shakes his head.

“No fucking way,” he mumbles to himself.

John B is not going to believe this. None of the Pogues are.

Rubbing at his face in disbelief, JJ repeats, “no fucking way” one last time before walking down the driveway. He spares one last glance at the house. Friday. Seven-thirty.

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

JJ has never been one to care all that much about his appearance. Half of his clothes have a hole in them somewhere, whether it be on the collar or in a pocket, and his hair is constantly tousled with salt-water from the sea. He isn’t unclean though. He showers and shaves and washes his clothes (though perhaps not as much as he should). He doesn’t think he’s bad looking, either. Lived experience shows that to be true, as he’s never struggled to land a date or hook-up. But there’s something about you, something about this particular meeting, that has him turfing through his chest of drawers.

He’s pretty sure he’s settled on an outfit. It’s ironic that it looks almost thrown together when JJ’s spent fifteen minutes obsessing over it. He washed his hair with shampoo and conditioner (that he stole from Kiara) and even used some hair wax to try and style it. Again, it probably looks the same as usual, but he feels better for it.

All the faffing leaves him running late. It’s closer to 7:45 than 7:30 by the time JJ pulls up your road on his bike. He’s aware of how loud the engine is in this area, rumbling as he slows to a stop. You’re stood in the sidewalk, arms crossed anxiously over your chest, glancing up and down the street. As JJ approaches, your eyes fall on him and a nervous smile sparks to life. JJ bullshits himself by labelling his hammering heart as adrenaline from riding a dirt bike on Figure Eight. You push some of your hair behind your ear as you walk up to meet him halfway. You’re practically glowing under the sunset sky, skin shiny with body butter like you’ve been bathed in glitter. He shuts off the engine and sits back in the seat.

“You’re late."

JJ cringes playfully. “My bad?”

“Mhm.”

You step over to him and linger by his bike. He quirks a brow. “You hopping on?”

As your eyes survey the vehicle, JJ starts to grin, smug. “You ever been on a bike before?”

“Course,” you say, almost too quickly. “Just…Not one like this.”

JJ offers out a hand and you hesitate for a second before taking it. Grasping your hand in his, you climb onto the back of his bike. Your summer dress rides up as you do and you nervously tug it down. Then, your arms gently loop around his waist. Laughing, JJ shakes his head. He tightens your grip on him.

“Gotta hold on tight or you’ll fly off,” JJ remarks.

“Promise not to do anything stupid?” you say, voice thick with nerves.

JJ starts up the engine. “Princess, I can’t promise anything like that,” he grins. Looking over his shoulder, meeting your terrified eyes, he softens his smile. “But I promise you’re safe.”

Your own smile battles through the queasy nervousness. JJ revs the engine and turns his head back to the road, and then he sets off. Your arms immediately latch tighter like a vice. It makes him laugh, and you mutter a meek ‘shut up’ in reply. Having you close like this; he can smell your perfume. It’s expensive, encapsulating you like you’ve been doused in it. Several bangle style bracelets lining your wrists press into his skin through his t-shirt, only slightly uncomfortable, and when he turns a corner, they shift and jangle melodically together.

Zipping down the roads of Figure Eight, JJ drags out the journey the same way he did walking Ranger back to your house. Gradually, mansions turn to shacks and quaint homes, and well-kept children’s parks into overgrown yards surrounded with chain-link fence.

He pulls down a dirt track, heading nearer to the marshland, and eventually comes to a stop. You catch your breath as he turns off the engine.

“Feeling alright?” he checks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you reply.

You look a little windswept. Instinctively, JJ reaches out a hand to brush some hair from your face. Embarrassed, you help, calming down your hair and fixing your appearance. Then you use JJ’s shoulders as an anchor, climbing off his bike.

“So…You brought me out to middle of nowhere…” you say, looking around.

JJ kicks on the stand and pulls the keys form the ignition. “Scared?”

“Should I be?”

JJ chuckles, shaking his head. “Come on. I got something planned.”

He takes your hand, smiling to himself as you intertwine your fingers with his, and guides the two of you through the shrubs towards the water side. The P.M.S. Pogue sits moored in the marsh. A loan, if he helps John B clean out the chicken hut next week.

“Now, I know this probably ain’t like all the fancy yachts you and your folks have,” JJ starts, walking up to the boat side. “But I promise it runs like a dream.”

As he looks back to you, JJ’s eyes shamelessly sweep along your figure. The dress you’re wearing is pastel green adorned with dainty flowers of white and ivy. It ends just past the point of tortuous on your legs. You’re pretty as a vine and sweet like a grape, decorated with expensive jewellery. Pearl earrings and a Tiffany necklace. On your wrist, though, JJ finds a series of handmade friendship bracelets amongst your bangles. They’re made with shells and beads and tiny pendants of silver. Several rings sit pretty on your fingers.

Looking back to the boat, JJ pulls the ladder free with a grunt. It creaks from want of use: himself and the Pogues usually just climb inside or jump on from the jetty. “Ladies first,” he says, offering out a hand.

You look between his hand and the ladder, and then something deterministic overcomes your face as you place your hands on lip of the boat. With a huff, you use whatever upper body strength you have to climb up. JJ stands, taken aback, and his eyes falls to your bare legs. Your toes are pointed, calve muscles tense and strong, and he can almost picture you in pointe ballet slippers. Amused, JJ lets you clamber up into the boat. Sighing, you correct your dress and jewellery before looking down at him.

“Well? You coming?”

JJ gives a small laugh before nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”

He climbs with significantly less difficulty than yourself, proudly flexing his muscles as he does, shameless in his peacocking. When he gets to his feet, he finds you staring. “Like what you see?”

Your face flushes. You try and play it off though. “Just checking if you needed a hand.”

JJ grins, playing along, and you roll your eyes and walk to the wheel of the boat. He follows, pulling the keys from his short pockets, and turns on the engine which sputters to life. You hold onto the side of the steering hold as JJ guides the two of you into the marsh.

“You wanna steer?” he asks once you’re in wider waters.

You wordlessly step up and take the wheel. It’s easy, guiding the boat along. JJ hovers behind you, testing the waters by placing a hand on your waist. You don’t shrug him off. Soon enough, JJ’s placing a hand back on the wheel and guiding you to a certain spot.

“I found this place a while ago,” he says over your shoulder as he steers. He can feel your gaze on him. It’s terrifying, having you so close to him. God, he hopes it doesn’t show. “Best stargazing spot in the whole county.”

He slows the engine to a shuddering stop and steps away to toss the anchor down. It’s silent out in the water, asides from sea birds and marsh-side insects. Fish that break to the surface for a split-second disturb the water every now and then. Crickets and distant hooting owls. It’s dark now, too. Everything painted in a dusky blue. JJ grabs the old blanket that he stole from the twinkie and lies it down on the nose of the boat.

“Here,” he calls.

You make your way over, accepting his hand as you step up. The two of you settle to lay side by side. JJ tucks his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow. You stare at the sky, eyes falling open at the endless expanse.

“Woah.”

“Pretty sick, right?”

“Yeah,” you say, laughing quietly. “It’s awesome.”

JJ grins. Nailed it.

For a while, the two of you just stargaze. He can hear your breathing, steady and calm, and once more your perfume invades his senses. A bottle of the stuff probably cost more than his bike. That thought prompts him to break the silence. Sitting up, he looks down at you.

“Alright, I gotta ask,” he says.

You sit up on your elbows, curiosity piqued. It takes everything in JJ to keep his eyes trained on your face and not your chest.

“Why’d you agree to go out with me?”

You smile, somewhat amused. It’s like you’ve been waiting for him to ask. “Well, that’s an easy question.”

“Oh, is it now?”

“Mhm,” you grin, teeth sinking into your lower lip. Christ, you’re angelic. “Ranger.”

“Your dog?”

“Yep.”

“What? You kooks manage to translate what they bark about or something? He give you some words of wisdom?”

You laugh, shaking your head. Sitting up fully, your bracelets chime together. “He liked you.”

“Yeah?” JJ says, brows tugging together in confusion.

“Ranger doesn’t trust easy. He’s a rescue and he practically chose me. The shelter people said he hadn’t let anyone near him since arriving, but with me, he came running over, like he knew me or something. He likes men even less. He won’t let my daddy within five yards of him without barking and cowering. He wouldn’t hurt you, but he gets scared and jumpy. But he seemed to like you. Seemed to trust you.”

“So, that made you agree to go out with me?” JJ checks.

Shrugging, you simply reply, “dogs are the best judge of character, after all.”

Humming in thought, JJ looks out to the marsh as he considers what you’ve said. It’s a little hilarious that a runaway dog is the reason that he’s got you here, alone, on the P.M.S. Pogue.

“My turn,” you say, seemingly initiating a game of twenty-one questions. JJ looks back to you. “Why’d you ask me out?”

“Pretty obvious. You’re fucking gorgeous,” JJ replies.

Whilst your smile turns to mush, you roll your eyes and act as if you’re unaffected by his words. “Seriously, though. I didn’t think I was your type.”

“Smoking hot girls? Nah, you’re pretty much my type to a T,” JJ goes on, charming smile in full view.

“What about Kiara?”

JJ gives a bemused smile. “What about Kie?”

“I know she hangs out with you guys. We’re pretty different people, me and her.”

It’s obvious that you’re far from low maintenance. You're proud of being a kook. You don’t shy away from it: happy to show off your money and beauty. JJ doesn’t get the sense that you’re haughty but it seems rather clear that you live your life to a certain standard.

JJ shrugs. “Guess that’s why I’m not dating her.”

“I know your reputation, you know. About all the girls you hook-up with and stuff.”

“Oh. You jealous or something?”

“No,” you say. Voice turning softer, you continue. “But I feel like I should to tell you that I’m not the kind of girl who has a lot of hook-ups. Or the kind who puts out on the first date.” When JJ doesn’t say anything, you feel the need to add, “just, before you get your hopes up.”

Pursing his lips, JJ nods slowly. He had a feeling that was going to be the case. You weren’t exactly known in the community for being particularly flirtatious. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever known any guy to date you. From the way you spoke, careful with your words, and the way you acted, you were almost made of solid gold: pure through and through. So, having you take sex off the table for the foreseeable future didn’t exactly blind-side JJ. That to say, if you had offered it up, he would have jumped at the opportunity. God, he’s half sure he’d die if he ever saw you naked.

He could be a gentleman, though. He could. Something about you had JJ entranced outside of just the physical. So, if a hook-up wasn’t in the cards, maybe getting to know you might be all the better.

He’ll just have to learn to keep his eyes and his dick to himself.

Sighing, JJ lowers himself to lay down again. This time, he only tucks one arm behind his head. The other, he outstretches into your expanse of the blanket.

“Alright, princess. I think I can live with that,” he says.

Seemingly content with his reply, you lay back down, resting your head in the nook of his arm.

“It’s your turn,” you quietly say after a moment’s quiet.

“To do what?”

“Ask a question.”

JJ filters through the many in his mind, tucking the inappropriate ones away for a later date, and finally settles. “Alright. Was Ranger the only reason you agreed to go on a date with me?”

You let out a small tuneful hum of contemplation. “No. I wanted to see what you were like.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I’ve seen you around the island and heard the stories. I suppose I wanted to know for myself,” you say. “Plus, I always do what I’m supposed to do. I guess I wanted to do the opposite, for a change.”

“Rebelling against your dear old daddy with the derelict from the Cut?” JJ jokingly asks.

“Hmm. Something like that,” you say, playing along. You turn your head to the side and meet JJ's eyes. “You’re just a pawn in my game, Maybank.”

JJ’s too sucker-punched from that to come up with something witty in reply. There’s a foreign thump in his chest and a selcouth feeling in the back of his throat as you look at him. JJ swallows it away, returning his attention to the star-lit sky.

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

JJ revels in the miracle that he landed a second date with you as he fixes his hair in John B’s bathroom mirror. His best friend sits on the closed toilet lid, watching him.

“I can’t believe you’re seeing her again,” John B says for the millionth time.

JJ grins at his reflection. “I know.”

“I mean, what do you guys even talk about?” JB continues, face contorted in confusion.

JJ shrugs. “I don’t know. We just spent the other night talking about all sorts, really.”

“And you’re sure she isn’t being paid to go out with you?”

“Maybe the first time, but not this time, no,” JJ replies. He stops messing with his hair. Licks over his teeth, checking for trapped food, and dusts of his t-shirt. Looking to his friend, JJ asks, “how do I look?”

John B barely takes his appearance in before saying, “like she’s out of your league.”

“Come on, man,” JJ groans, shoving his best friend’s shoulder. He leaves the bathroom, John B hot on his tail. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah. That I’m macking on a kook and you ain’t,” JJ tells him. Opening the fridge, he tosses a beer to John B before taking one for himself. “I know you’ve had a thing for Sarah Cameron since we were kids.”

“No,” John B quickly says, shaking his head. “No, no, I do not have ‘a thing’ for Sarah Cameron.”

“JB, you’re a terrible liar,” JJ sighs. He takes a sip of his drink. Liquid confidence. Eyes glancing up to the clock hung on the chateau’s kitchen wall, he reckons he has about five minutes before he should leave for your house.

“So, seriously: what is this? Why this new flavour of the month?” John B grills.

JJ shrugs. “I dunno man. She’s just…She’s cute. And hot. And rich, and easy to talk to, and kinda funny, and, oh did I mention, rich as fuck. I don’t see any downsides, really.”

“Mhm, well, I do,” John B gladly counters. “She’s a kook.”

“Yeah, but she’s not like a kook kook. Kinda like how Kiara’s a kook,” JJ argues.

John B looks bewildered. “She is nothing like Kiara.”

“Alright, not in personality or looks or actual money, but in general kook-ness.”

“All I’m saying is that if you think this thing has a long shelf-life, you’re way more crazy than I thought you were,” John B says.

JJ doesn’t reply. Downing the rest of his can, he tosses it at the trash can (dismally misses) and heads for the front door. As he goes, he taps John B on the shoulder in a brotherly fashion.

“Nice to know you’re rooting for me, man,” he jovially says in farewell.

Then, he’s heading down the porch steps, climbing onto his bike, and setting sights for your house for the fourth time in his life.

Your house stands like a castle in the streets. JJ practically sees the driveway as a crocodile infested moat. He waits on the street at the foot of the driveway for you, arriving in time to see you make your way down the drive. You’re dressed in Levi shorts and a Tommy Hilfiger shirt, designer sandals on your decorated feet with anklets and toe rings. JJ sits back on his seat, engine running, and finds himself grinning as you smile at him. When did that start to happen?

“Not late this time, huh?” you playfully say.

“Learnt my lesson.”

You don’t hesitate as you climb on the back of his bike. You wrap your arms around his stomach, fingers splaying out across his chest over his t-shirt. JJ revs the engine.

“Ready?”

“Hell yeah.”

Grinning, JJ sets off down the street.

Once again, you’d left the plans in JJ’s hands. It was a little surreal to him, how trusting you were of him. Might be a place of concern, even. But, hey, JJ will take the win.

It’s still light when you get to the cliffside. From here, the view is incredible. An orange-pink sky that looks like it might taste of tangerine and peach hangs above a rolling sea. The view stretches on for miles, with the mainland off along the horizon.

JJ admires you as you stand in breeze, looking out at the view. You turn to face him.

“Why does every place I let you take me get more and more concerning every time?”

“We’re going cliff jumping,” is JJ’s reply.

Your eyebrows nearly shoot off your head. “That’s called suicide, JJ.”

“Nah, not here,” he says, shaking his head. He grabs your hand and tries to coax you nearer to the edge so you can see the drop. “Water’s plenty deep and cliff’s plenty high. It’s fun.”

You catch on that he’s not joking. Laughing nervously, you shake your head and take several large steps back to safety. “No, no, no.”

“Come on! It’s fun!” JJ swears.

Your smile begins to fade and your head shakes faster. “No way. I don’t do…That. And I’ll ruin my hair. And what about my jewellery?”

“You can take off your jewellery,” JJ argues, walking towards you, “and your hair’ll look good either way.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort, eyeing him up as your arms cross over your chest. “You’re a guy.”

“First of all: rude.”

JJ tugs his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. Your eyes instinctively glance down at his chest. JJ doesn’t bother hiding his smirk.

“Second of all: live a little, princess.”

You scoff. “I live plenty, thank you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Really. Have you ever been to Paris? Seen the Eiffel tower? Been in the catacombs? Or gone to Italy and tasted wine fresh from a vineyard?”

JJ raises a brow, sarcastic as he says, “yeah, every Tuesday. Now come on.”

He grabs for your wrist, tugging you towards him. You don’t push him away as he lifts his fingers to the clasp of your necklace, only momentarily struggling to get it loose. He gently places it on top of his t-shirt, and soon your many rings follow. You lean down and take off your toe rings and anklets, and then your earrings. The handmade bracelets stay, though. Standing upright, you take a shaky breath.

“Look, you don’t have to,” JJ quietly says. He can see the fear clear as day on your face. But you shake your head, newly determined by his offer of an out. Clearly you don’t like having your bluff called.

JJ’s eyes nearly fall out of his head as you pull your shirt off. He doesn’t even have time to recover before your wriggling out of your shorts, stepping out of them and carelessly tossing them onto the pile of clothes and accessories like you got them from a bargain bin at a thrift store. Stepping out of your sandals, standing proud in matching Calvin Klein underwear, you grab his hand and interlock your fingers, guiding the two of you to the cliffside. As you pull him into motion, JJ comes out of his filthy thoughts, mouth dry.

You come to a sudden stop a safe three feet away from the edge. JJ’s done this too many times to count but the adrenaline that floods the system before the first jump shocks him every time like a cold plunge. You gnaw on your lower lip in trepidation. JJ squeezes your fingers, mutters your name, and captures your attention.

“You trust me?”

Your beautiful eyes dance across his face. JJ almost sees you go calm, like a baby soothed by its favourite nursery rhyme. It seems that his question, as simple as it is, made something click in your mind.

“Yeah,” you breathe, as if realising it in the moment. “I do.”

With that, JJ gives one last squeeze to your hand and a fleeting smile, and then he starts running towards the cliffside. You run too, only a step behind, and the two of you hurl yourselves off the edge at the same time. Your scream echoes in the wind as air rushes past JJ’s ears. He whoops on his way down. The two of you pummel down towards the water, your hand never leaving his until you reach the surface. His eyes press shut and he prepares for impact as he crashes into the depths. The water is cold but not icy – it cools his skin comfortably. Everything goes quiet in the water, mellowed out and muted. JJ pushes to the surface and takes a breath of air, shoving wet hair off his face. As he looks around, treading water in the currents, he feels the adrenaline rise once more when he can’t find you.

JJ starts calling out your name, looking left and right and left again. Just as he’s about to dive under, you break. He gasps out in relief.

The minute your eyes open, they land on him. Then, the biggest smile he’s ever seen comes over your face. It etches itself on his brain with permanent marker. JJ could be senile and decrepit and still remember that look on your face.

“That was amazing!” you scream, throwing your hands up, spraying water everywhere. “Oh my God! We have to do that again!”

JJ laughs, soaking in your joy.

It’s weird seeing you, wet and without all your dressings. It’s like seeing a priceless painting outside of its frame: it makes it somehow even more beautiful. The setting sun warms your wet skin as you throw your head back, eyes shut, grinning like a mad man. JJ wants to seal this moment in resin and place it on his mantle as a keepsake.

You make JJ climb up that cliff and jump into the ocean about five times over, until the sun has almost fully set and you can’t risk the dark. As it slowly inches down and down towards the horizon, you and JJ sit side by side on the grass. Your hand is so close to his, fingers reaching out like growing ivy, teasing at making contact. The moment the jumping was done, you’d returned all your jewellery to your body. It sparkles with the damp. As his eyes drift down from your profile to your figure, he picks up on those handmade bracelets again.

“What’s with the friendship bracelets?” JJ asks.

You look down at them then up at JJ. “I make them.”

“Why?”

Laughing, you shrug. “I don’t know. Why does anyone do anything?”

“Do you sell them?”

“No,” you say, messing with one. “I just enjoy doing it. I make them for my friends.”

“That’s sweet,” JJ hums, looking back out to the view.

“What about your shark tooth necklace? Someone make that for you?” you ask.

JJ glances down at it. “My ma. She used to collect shark teeth that washed up on the beach.”

“Well, she’s pretty talented,” you smile. “Maybe she can make one for me, one day.”

JJ swallows thickly, jaw ticking tight. “She, uh, ain't around anymore.”

“Oh…I'm sorry.”

“It’s alright. You didn’t know.”

The awkward quiet that comes passes like a summer breeze. Sighing contentedly, the two of you watch as the world gets darker and darker, and the sun gets lower and lower.

“So, how are you finding it?”

“Finding what?” you ask.

JJ gestures to himself, to everything around him. “This. Pogue-life. Rebelling against your dad. Not doing as you’re told.”

You laugh, shaking your head. JJ watches as you pull your knees up to your chest, sitting dainty as a robin balanced on a branch. Tucking some hair behind your ears, you look out to the horizon as if caught in a daydream. A solemn look threatens to cross your face as you say, “it’s making me realise just how much I’ve been missing out on.”

And that…JJ wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting one of your usual playful jabs, soaked in sarcasm. Not that. It makes you more human and less Kook. More real. More attainable, even, for JJ. It’s like with every minute he spends in your orbit, he gets closer and closer to you. But everyone knows the story of Icarus, and what happens when you fly too close to the sun.

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

By the fourth date, JJ’s practically foaming at the mouth, feral from restraint.

He still hadn’t kissed you. Hadn’t had the opportunity. You’d kept teasing him with it, temporarily placing it on the table before taking it away. He knew he had to go about this carefully. One wrong move and he could screw up all his hard work and send you off running.

What surprised JJ more than most was the fact that feeling your body under him was one of the lowest ranking motivators to spend time with you. Don’t get it twisted – it was still a pretty bloody strong motivator – but JJ wanted to know you and be known by you. You were interesting and captivating, and caring and kind. You were funny and had this sweet sense of humour that glimmered through from time to time, like a kaleidoscope hanging from a window-frame. With every minute in your company, his prejudice of Kooks was dismantled piece by piece. One run in with Rafe or Topper and it would probably be rekindled ten-fold, but for now, JJ learnt to see past it. You were a little out of touch but you didn’t act like you were better than him. Then again, he hadn’t taken you to his house or the Chateau yet. He kept the dates on common ground, where he never felt out of his depths or wallowing within them.

You hit like a crisp, ice-cold beer on the hottest day of summer. More intoxicating than any blunt he’s ever smoked, or any line he’s ever snorted. Light like a feather in how you move, soft like rain and driven like fresh laid snow. You had hijacked nearly all of JJ’s thoughts, in one way or another, and it fucking terrified him.

“So, I went for white and pastel blue. I think they’re cute. What do you think?”

You hold your fingers out for JJ to inspect your nails. JJ couldn’t care less about nails – half the time, his are dirtied with mud and oil – but you care an awful lot, so he can pretend. To be honest, he had only been half-listening to your story. His eyes had been fixated on your lips, daydreaming about how they’d feed against his own, how soft they might be as he nips at them with his teeth, how wet they might be if he were to slip his dick between them…

“JJ?”

He blinks out of his gutter-brain and takes in your nails.

“They’re pretty. I like the, uh, sheen on them,” he says.

You practically become alight with the comment. It feels like another brownie point that he can tally. Bringing them to your gaze, you nod fervently. “Right? I’ve never gotten metallic powder on them but I think I like it.”

With that, you sigh and lay back on your towel. The two of you are at the beach and have been since two in the afternoon. It’s now nearly seven in the evening. JJ thinks you’re at your prettiest in the golden hour. It’s like God himself is shining a spotlight on you, highlighting every perfection of your features. The way your designer jewellery twinkles in the rays, the sun-kissed sheen of your cheeks, the ethereal-like glow of your eyes…It’s taking everything not to look at your body, proudly displayed in a bikini. It’s blue. It seems you like blue an awful lot.

JJ distracts himself from your figure and his tightening swim shorts by petting Ranger. He’d tagged along for the day and is currently napping in the sun. You’d brought plenty of water and dog snacks to keep him going. JJ had supplied the seltzers and bag of chips for the two of you. He’d noted how you’d been making one can last for about two hours. He wondered if you’d been tipsy before, or drunk even.

When he looks back to you, eyes sweeping up your sand-scattered stomach, he finds you threading the seashells you’d been collecting throughout the day on string. You’d brought a little kit with you in your bag and had spent the last three hours making jewellery on and off whilst talking to JJ. You lay in a sea of designer accessories – Ray Ban sunglasses, Dior lip-gloss, Clinique sunscreen – as you craft.

“That’s coming together nice,” he comments.

You glance up to meet his eyes, smiling. “It’s for you.”

“Me?”

“Mhm. Need to check if it fits, actually,” you mumble, shifting onto your knees.

JJ willingly holds out a wrist for you as you coil it around. It looks hilariously dainty on his built form. Seashells and blue and white and silver beads. Then he notices the small letters you’d interwoven into the design. JJ. His heart makes that awful, jarring tug again. JJ can’t decide he likes this effect you have on him.

“Perfect,” you say.

You tie it off and fasten it around his wrist. He shakes his arm out a little to check its fit. You’re right: it’s perfect.

The moment your eyes glance up from his arm, meeting his, JJ forgets all his manners. He takes your face in one hand and presses his lips to yours. You let out a gasp as he does, hands coming up to press at his shoulders, pushing him off.

“What are you doing?” you gasp, fingers flying up to your lips.

His heart is loud in his ears, hammering like he’s thirteen and having his first kiss all over again. In the deafening beat of it, he dumbly replies, “kissing you?”

“Well, you can’t just kiss me,” you say, almost offended. “You have to ask first.”

“Alright…Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes are like raging storms as you stare at him. Anyone would have thought from your expression that he just asked to take you roughly in the streets. Trying to calm yourself with a drawn-out breath, you cock your head.

“Why should you?”

JJ frowns. “What?”

“Why should I let you kiss me?”

Now usually, JJ would be pissed. Annoyed and impatient, and would get up and leave and never look back. But for you, he can’t find it in him. No, it’s all offset by that same damn curiosity that got him here in the first place. You’re like an enigma. A blackhole. He wants desperately to know more, to understand, but is terrified of being sucked in completely. Terrified of what it might all mean.

So, JJ deliberates your question. “Cause you like me?”

“I do?” you ask, quirking your brows.

You must. You wouldn’t have stuck around for this long if you didn’t. Wouldn’t have handmade a bracelet. So, he nods, feeling his confidence grow like the swell of a wave.

“Yeah, you do. I think you like what I bring out of you.”

“Making a lot of assumptions here, Maybank,” you practically warn. But the anger is gone. Gives him hope that he’s on the right track. JJ tries and fails to bite back his smile.

“Maybe,” he says. “But it’s only cause I feel the same way.”

When you don’t speak, he takes it as a cue to continue. As he goes on, his heart shudders with the anxiety that vulnerability brings.

“I like the way I am around you. I like how you make me feel. I like talking to you, and I like hearing you talk. You just have this way of speaking that’s…It just makes everything feel like it’s good. Everything’ll be good.”

Something in what he’s said seems to take you aback. You blink a few times, lips parting as you sit, looking at him all the while. He hopes that if your thoughts are still set on the idea that he’s in this for nothing more than a lay, he’s just proved that wrong. He supposes with his reputation on the island amongst the youngsters, he can’t be all that surprised if that was what you had thought. But surely, after spending so many hours in your company, doing nothing asides from talking and innocently touching, you had seen past that. Didn’t you say that you wanted to get to know him, to see him for yourself?

“Do you mean that?” you quietly ask. It’s almost sad, the tone of your voice and the look on your face, like nobody’s ever said something like that to you before. JJ swallows the sick feeling that it brings.

He nods. “Yeah. I do.”

Slowly, a smile blossoms on your face like the first budding flower of spring. With a small, slight nod, you tell him, barely louder than a whisper, “you can kiss me now.”

JJ does so gladly. But he’s careful with it this time, makes it count. He sweeps one hand from your shoulder, up against your collarbones, until it cups your jaw gently. Tilting your head just-so, he leans forward and pauses just a breadth before your lips. And then, he kisses you. It’s soft and sweet and different to the usual blind-haze rush that JJ finds himself in when making out. The pacing to it makes it almost sensual. The feeling the kiss brings is alien to JJ; he can’t quite place a name to it.

One of your hands finds home on his jaw, exploring his skin, fingers looping into the hair on the back of his neck. When he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue, you sigh gently against his lips.

As the two of you kiss on the beach, that new-found sensation in JJ’s chest intensifies, and then it dawns upon him - this new feeling that your kiss brings. Different from lust and libido.

His eyes fly open. Stomach plummets through the sand.

JJ Maybank is falling in love with you.

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

As the summer stretched on, JJ realised he’d spent most of June in your company, growing closer and closer. It felt natural now to have your hand intertwined with his. JJ can hardly remember a time when wasn’t talking to you, or talking about you, or thinking of you, or organising his days around meeting you. He knew what it meant, what all of it meant, and this impending feeling of something grew with every word passed and every kiss shared. It almost felt like he was watching a sand-timer. Seeing each grain slip by, counting down until the inevitable end, just like most things in his life did.

He'd introduced you to the Pogues upon everyone’s insistence, including your own. John B was still in disbelief that JJ had managed to keep you around for as long as he had. Pope, on the other hand, was practically suspicious of it. It was as if he needed the cold, hard evidence for proof that JJ wasn’t spinning yarns. Kiara had of course jumped at the opportunity to gloat about the ‘good karma’ she’d bestowed upon JJ, by encouraging him to return Ranger to you. When she’d met you, she’d be apprehensive. Distrusting of your Kook status, having known you more than the others from attending Kook Academy with you. But JJ was sure she’d warm up, bit by bit. It helped that you wanted to try new things. You wanted to try the whole Pogue lifestyle. You let JJ take you surfing and begged to try his bike out. You let John B teach you to fish and wrestled Pope on nights spent around the campfire. You’d share seltzers with Kiara and sang along whenever she played the uke. And, oh, of course you could sing. You’d had lessons, you see, as you had with practically every other extra circular on earth. Piano, violin, ballet, tap…Shit, it was like you were collecting Pokémon or something.

In fact, it scared JJ how easy it was to pick up on the little details about you. It was like collecting stones on the beach: before you know it, your pockets are weighing you down, filled with tiny little pebbles. You were a fruity girl: cocktails and sangria and wine and seltzers – never beer. You weren’t a heavy drinker. Didn’t partake in shots apart from Cherry Bombs. You preferred sweet over salty; always took creamer and syrup in your coffee, in that order; rom coms from the nineties and noughties were your kryptonite, and you loathed fast and furious; skirts before shorts; Tiffany before Pandora; lip gloss over lip stick. God, the tingly sensation from plumping lip gloss was all too familiar to JJ now, from having it smear off your mouth to his.

After the kiss on the beach, mouths and hands had only continued to wander. It’s like JJ’s admission that this was more than just trying to score you for sex was the passcode to open you up. You weren’t prudish. In fact, when JJ met you, he was half certain that maybe you were a virgin. But no…now he found that very hard to believe.

Saying all that, it still felt bizarre to be seen out in public with you. It wasn’t a secret, had never been really, but JJ remained surprised at how willing you were to take his hand in public. To be seen with him by everyone in the County. It was like you wanted to show him off, parade him around like he was something special, like one of your many Prada purses. It almost made JJ want to question if you had ulterior motives.

“You wanna just split a portion of fries?” JJ asks, looking at The Wreck’s menu. You were there for lunch.

You hum in thought. “Maybe. I want mac and cheese though.”

“We can get that, too. I mean, you’re paying, right?”

You prod him under the table with your foot. He gives a playful laugh, grinning childishly. He’d started calling you his sugar mommy since you had to pay for gas when his card got declined. It softened the sting of embarrassment that came with being broke, especially when compared to you. I mean, even now, he sits in a thrifted t-shirt, the decal on the chest nearly faded with how much it had been worn and washed, whilst you’re in your new threads. Dior threads, for that matter.

“Hiya. You guys ready to order?” the waitress asks.

JJ glances up from the menu and shit. Shit shit shit. The minute his eyes meet hers, recognition dawns upon her. It’s weird seeing this girl – Lily, he thinks her name is – from this angle. Last time they’d seen each other, she’d been laying underneath him…

You’re thankfully blissfully unaware, eyes trained on the menu.

“JJ. Long time no see.”

With that, your head darts up. Great.

“Hey…Lily. How are you?”

At least luck is partly on his side: he got her name right. She places a hand on his waist. “Fine, thanks. Been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

“I’ve been busy,” JJ says.

“I bet. Remember a time when you were busy with other things…”

Her tone speaks volumes, as do her eyes as she surveys his body, smiling flirtatiously.

Suddenly, your hand is extending across the table, towards Lily. JJ looks to you to find a sickly, sweet smile on your face.

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” you say, voice honied. She shakes your hand as you introduce yourself. “You know JJ?”

“We have a…history, of sorts,” Lily replies.

“Oh. Well, any friend of JJ’s is a friend of mine.”

Looking to JJ, there’s an emotion in your eyes that he’s never seen before. It’s terrifying and sexy as hell. Raising a hand, your fingers leisurely splay across the expanse of JJ’s shoulder, manicured nails digging-in only so. Not enough to cause damage but enough to make a point. Enough to mark your territory.

“Babe? Can you order for me?”

“Uh, course,” JJ says, clearing his throat.

Looking down at the menu, eyes not even fixating on any of the words, JJ reals of an order. Lily scribbles it down, takes the menus, and leaves without another word. The minute she’s out of sight, you drop the act, hand unlatching from his body. JJ raises his brows, holding back his laugh as he turns to you.

"What a bitch," you mutter. You wash away your words with a sip of your water.

“Didn’t take you as the jealous type.”

“Yeah, well, some girls need to learn when to shut their traps,” you lowly return. Sighing, you close your eyes and shake your head. “Sorry. That wasn’t very girls-girl of me.”

“Mm. If only your daddy could hear you now,” JJ adds, sighing disapprovingly.

You shoot him an unimpressed glare. JJ brings his glass to his lips, having a sip of his water.

“You sleep with her?”

JJ chokes and coughs. “Jesus. Straight shooter."

“Better not be talking about yourself there, Maybank.”

JJ laughs, putting his cup down. Looking to you, he shrugs. “Yeah. Like…three months ago, alright? It was before we met.”

“Mhm. You sleep with anyone since we met?” you wonder.

JJ can’t place your tone but something tells him that this question will make or break him. Thankfully, there isn’t even a need to lie. “No.”

“You swear?”

“Scout’s honour,” he says, lifting three fingers whilst simultaneously marking his heart with a cross. “Shit, I don’t want you to claw my eyes out. Or any other girls, for that matter.”

You shove his shoulder gently, smile creeping back to your lips. “Shut up. Like I’d ever. The Bible frowns upon it.”

“What about ‘an eye for an eye’?”

“Ooh. Somebody went to Sunday School,” you tease.

“Yeah, just so I could gawk at you,” he smoothly returns, winking for good measure. With that, JJ knows he’s back in your good books.

When Lily brings the food over, she doesn’t try to strike up any conversation. Dare JJ say, she looks terrified to be within a foot of the table. JJ knew you had an edge but this is different. This possessiveness, this proprietorial energy that came over you…Fuck, he knows what’s the newest addition to his wank-bank.

The two of you eat, talking about what you should do tomorrow (because, of course, he’ll spend tomorrow with you) and then JJ desperately tries to give constructive feedback to your latest Pinterest board of hairstyle inspiration. He gets up to pay. It’ll probably cost half his wage but it’s worth it. I mean, this meal is pretty dismal compared to the feasts you’re used to, but you never complain. Saying that, it doesn’t go unnoticed that when it’s on your dime, you’re far more willing to get a lemonade and a dessert. When it’s JJ paying, you say you’re happy with tap water and splitting a side. It’s mildly mortifying.

Lily is stood at the counter. “Ready to pay?”

“Tell me the damage,” is JJ’s reply.

“Twenty dollars thirty,” she says, punching buttons on the register.

JJ’s stomach twists. Fuck, he hopes his card doesn’t decline. She holds out the machine for him and he swipes his card.

“How long has that been going on then?” Lily asks.

JJ follows her gaze to you. You’re sat at the table, reapplying Dior lip gloss with an Armani compact mirror. He’s half convinced that if anything bought from Target touched your skin you might implode.

“Bout a month,” he says.

“Hm. Never took her as one to venture out of Figure Eight.”

“Never took you as one to judge random people,” JJ counters, anger ticking with her unneeded commentary.

“I’m just saying. She’s a Kook, JJ.”

“Did it go through?” he asks, cutting the conversation short.

Lily sighs, looking down at the card machine. Nodding, she goes to get his receipt. But before she hands it over, she feels the need to add, “just…maybe ask yourself what she’s getting out of this? Girls like that…They’re sneaky. Just, watch your back.”

JJ takes the receipt hastily and walks off before he can’t bite his tongue any longer. As much as it pisses him off to hear someone who doesn’t even know you talk like that, there was a sincerity to Lily’s voice that speaks to JJ’s insecurities. Massages them. It certainly doesn’t help that the minute JJ arrives back at the table, you ask, “did you have enough?”

JJ hates how the rest of the day, that one interaction – that one moment – at the Wreck keeps him disconnected from you. Anytime you ask what’s wrong, it’s the same excuse: ‘I’m just tired, s’all.’ But whenever there’s a second for thought, Lily’s voice echoes around his head.

Ask yourself what she’s getting out of this.

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

“How in the hell do you not get lost in this place?” JJ asks you as you wander through your house.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I grew up here.”

It’s laughable, the difference of JJ’s house to yours. He’s never taken you to his home; kept your dates and hangouts to the Chateau or the Twinkie, or anywhere but his house. He’s half-certain that you might just dip if you saw the state that he lives in. Plus, he can’t risk his dad showing up and meeting you. He’d hate you – the same way he hated most people – and again, you’d be gone in a second. In fact, as more time passes, JJ realises more and more that he’s got an eye on the door, waiting for you to walk through it without a second glance.

“You want some tea?” you ask. JJ shrugs his yes. He’s never tried it before but no time like the present, right?

You guide the two of you to the kitchen. As you pass by room after room, JJ nervously glances around. “So, uh…Your dad or mom home, or?”

“Relax, Maybank,” you grin. “They’re on a cruise. They don’t get back until Tuesday.”

“Oh, cool, cool. I mean, I ain't have been bothered if they were home.”

You bark out a laugh. Opening a kitchen cupboard, you talk as you retrieve two mugs. “Oh really? So you haven’t been avoiding my house like the plague because of my parents?”

JJ rolls his eyes. Busted. You go to heat up the water, grabbing two fruit tea bags and depositing them in each mug. JJ looks around the kitchen, searching for a certain dog. As if you can hear his thoughts, you say, “Ranger’s in the sunroom. If you call him, he’ll probably come.”

So, JJ does just that. Sure enough, Ranger trudges through the house and into the kitchen, tail wagging. He looks as if he’s just woken up from a nap. JJ grins, watching as his energy returns the moment he sets eyes on yourself and JJ, and the blonde-haired boy falls to his knees, arms outstretched. God, he missed this old fart of a dog.

“Why don’t you bring him along to the Chateau more?”

“Where would he ride? We always take your bike,” you laugh.

“Probably for the best, anyway. John B would definitely try and steal him,” JJ mumbles.

“Oh, and you wouldn’t?”

Insecurity picks at JJ like a scab. “What does that mean?”

You quirk a brow, unaware of the almost offence caused. “JJ, you would pick that dog over me in a heartbeat, if it came down to it.”

Of course. Of course you were talking about the dog, and not making some dig about his family reputation, or his sticky fingers. Shit, it’s like ever since that day at the Wreck, his insecurities had tripled in size and volume. Every time you looked at him, JJ wasn’t sure if you were passing judgement and he hated himself for it: for becoming so suspicious of you, when you’d done nothing to warrant it. But he couldn’t help it. It was like a reflex.

Once the tea is made and Ranger’s retired back in another sunny patch to sleep, the two of you head upstairs to your bedroom. JJ began to recount the story of the Grady White discovery and the Motel Room after the last hurricane’s end. He’s half certain that you don’t fully believe him.

“So, what did you find in the motel room?” you ask, pushing open your bedroom door.

“It was fucking crazy! Like a shit ton of money and this weird map. Oh, yeah, and…” JJ ditches his backpack by the foot of your bed and unzips it. Proud as a Superbowl jock, he presents the gun he stole. “This.”

Your mouth drops open. You place the two mugs of tea on your desk (on coasters, because of course) and reach out for it. JJ frowns and holds it out of your reach.

“Let me hold it.”

This reaction, out of all the reactions, was the one he expected the least. “No way.”

“Come on!”

“Nu-uh. You’ll shoot my dick off."

Rolling your eyes, you quip, “wouldn’t that be a gift for mankind? Come on!”

Sighing, he relents. Double checks the safety is on before passing the gun to you. You hold it like it’s a priceless artefact or a Louboutin heel (both as equal in value to yourself).

“It’s heavier than I thought,” you mumble, inspecting it.

Is it bad that JJ thinks you look unbelievably hot holding a gun right now? Probably. He can address that later in life when he eventually winds up in therapy.

“Yeah, these things are the shit,” JJ boasts, taking it back. He pretends to aim with it, gun pointed directly at one of your bears. At your scolding he puts it away again. “Anyway, now we got this dumb ass compass. JB thinks it’s got a clue in it, but I’m not so sure.”

JJ accepts the tea that you offer him as the two of you take perch on your bed, you at the foot and him at the head. You sit cross legged, nodding along to his tale, interested. JJ’s not entirely sure why he’s telling you this, especially when he was so adamant that the Pogues keep it on the down low, but something in him tells him that it’s okay for you to know. Useful, even, though he has no idea how. When he wraps up the story, he takes in your room. It’s just as he pictured it to be. Immaculately clean, psychopath level organised, decorated with brand after brand, China-white and pastel blue detailing every turn of the head. Looking back to you, he sniggers.

“You look like a witch right now.”

You take in the way you’re sitting and laugh, making a point to cradle your mug of tea between two hands. God, you’re adorable. The years of ballet have paid off: your back is straight as an arrow. The two of you sit in comfortable silence as you sip your tea. Outside, you can hear the sounds of nature pass by. There’s something understated and special about spending time with someone without feeling the need to fill the gaps. Just…existing. As JJ finishes his tea, you nod to his empty mug.

“Want me to read your tea leaves?” you ask.

JJ eyes you up, entertained. “No way you know how to do that.”

“Course I do. Here.”

You put your mug down on the windowsill and hold out a hand out for his. He passes you the empty mug and leans back against the cushioned headboard. Hell, if he had a bed like this, he’d never leave. You hum in deep contemplative thought as you look into the mug. Eyebrows knitting together, lips pursing, you study the scraps of tea leaves intently. JJ tries to stifle his laughs. It’s clearly a ploy. He can see right through the act.

“Ah, well…These are very good leaves,” you suddenly announce.

JJ plays along. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm. Yeah, yeah, I see a great fortune in your future,” you tell him. A glance up to his face, stupid grin on your lips, and then back to the mug. “Mhm. Yep, I see a…A boat.”

“Oh yeah? A Grady White by any chance?” JJ jests.

“Oh, no. This thing…It’s like the titanic. Big ship.”

“You have a way with words, princess.”

“And! A rainforest! And stones!”

“Alright, this tea’s gone to your head,” JJ laughs, reaching over for his mug.

You giggle as he takes it back, ditching it half-arsed on the bedside table so he can drag you to him by your forearms. Half tumbling forward, your hands ungainly catch yourself on his sturdy frame. You’re still laughing as he kisses you. JJ smiles against your mouth.

“I’m telling you,” you manage out through kisses and giggles. “You’re gonna be very fortunate in your future.”

“Mm, I’m fortunate now,” JJ replies, chasing your lips.

He uses a hand to hoist you further into his lap. You finally find purchase, a hand sliding along his neck, tantalisingly slow and smooth. As JJ’s lips creep along your jaw and inch down your neck, you lean your head, giving him more and more canvas to work with.

“I’m very lucky, you know,” you say, sounding short of breath.

JJ just hums. He continues his tapestry of love bites and kisses as you ramble on. He loves how soft it is with you; how there’s time for pause, for thought, for laughter. It’s the polar opposite to what he knows. Frenzied hands and sex in a timeframe. The patience of sex with you isn’t without heat, though. It isn’t like a married couple who can hardly remember what they liked about one another, chasing a high before drifting off to sleep. No, it’s like how people take time to pray. Like how musicians fawn over their music for hours, bit by bit, until perfection. So, JJ revels in your half-meaningful speech, slurred like you’re drunk despite being stone-cold sober, as he gently eases your cardigan off your shoulders.

“Every dance team I’ve been on, we’ve won…”

As JJ’s lips descend to your chest, you sigh. Fingers tightening just-so in his hair, spurring him on. One of his hands stays placed on your hip, a thumb rubbing circles on your exposed waist.

“Probably just ‘cause you’re a good dancer,” JJ mumbles against your skin.

“Not just that, though,” you muse. “I’m a good luck charm, I’m telling you. Nothing bad ever happens to the people around me. I’m lucky.”

Whatever you say, JJ thinks as he unhooks your bra. You help guide it off, sitting back against JJ’s thighs and lifting a perfectly manicured hand to his jaw. Your skin is soft like Mother of Pearl. Not a single cut or nick. Guiding his face up until his gaze meets yours, you lean down and press your lips to his. There’s no more laughter and no more silly stories. There’s no room in JJ’s brain to conjure anything other than thoughts of you. Your hair and your skin and your perfume and your nails and you. God, he wants to consume you. Breathe you in like vapour, soak you up like sunlight, feel you like the weather, all over him.

Nobody’s prettier than you.

Nobody prettier from this view, nestled between your thighs, almost suffocating as he swallows you up. More and more – insatiable. The distinct taste of you sits heavy on his tongue. It spurs him on like cocaine, energy unrelenting as he goes down on you. The sounds you make, the way you grab at him, grasp at the sheets, writhe and wriggle like it’s too much, like you can’t take it. But you can. Have before. Will again.

Your body bends to JJ’s will like water. You’re so trusting of him; have been ever since you met him. Let him take you how he wants, faithful in the pleasure he’ll give you. Usually JJ didn’t care much if girls thought him selfish in bed, but you? No, he needed you to give the mark of approval. He needed your praise, your validation, like his sex wouldn’t have meaning if you didn’t think it worthwhile. The way you fit around him; JJ swears to God it’s like you were made for him. He has you on your front, fucking you into the mountain of throw pillows that make up the head of your bed. He keeps your hips and ass angled upwards, holding you steady as he ruts into you over and over again. You’re a drooling, moaning mess underneath him. One of your hands is clenching and releasing the sheets much like your walls are to him. Having you like this – Christ, it makes JJ feel like a young God.

When you fall apart, it pushes JJ over the edge too, almost like a suicide pact. He’s not sure heroin could touch ecstasy quite like it. Drifting away on dopamine, JJ pulls out of you and flops onto his back, chest heaving. You shuffle atop of your sheets, curling up as you let the afterglow take over. JJ knows he should dote on you but he’s so tired and spent. After tying off and tossing the condom out in your bedroom trash, and tugging on his boxers, JJ lays back down on the bed beside you, flat on his back. One of your hands rests on his chest – damp with sweat. Just for a minute, JJ thinks. I’ll just close my eyes for one minute.

JJ tunes into the sensation of you stroking the bare skin of his back. It rouses him from sleep. Somehow, in his tiredness, he’d rolled over onto his front. Your sheets smell of fabric conditioner and safety. Goose feather pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets; a memory foam mattress that mimics what JJ might imagine falling asleep on a marshmallow to feel like.

“JJ?” You continue to run the side of your hand up and down his skin. "Are you awake?"

"No," he mumbles into the sheets.

“I want us to make this official.”

JJ groans sleepily. “Wha’dya mean?”

“I mean, I want us to put a label on this thing. I want to be your girlfriend, and I want you to be my boyfriend.”

It’s like the mattress has become a gaping wormhole and it’s sucking him in. That very thing that he was drawn to, entranced with, that very thing that he was learning and dreading to be true, every little insecurity and anxiety that had built and built since the second date…It’s all arriving at once, hitting him hard and fast like a meteor strike.

JJ turns his head, looking up at you. You’re watching him patient, a giddy-type smile on your face, slightly disquieted with nerves.

“Well…How do you know that?”

Brows furrowing, your smile doesn’t move. Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know…I just know. I…I know it because I feel it.”

Those words do nothing to ease the panic that’s building up JJ’s body. He shuffles until he’s sat upright, staring you down like you’re something dangerous. For some reason, your innocent request feels like a trap to him. A con. A joke that he’ll be the unwilling punchline of if he agrees. And he realises what that impending feeling was, all this time. It was him waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Lucy’s point to come true and for the curtains to be pulled. To find out what the hell you wanted with him.

“You can’t just say things like that. That’s a really messed up thing to say to someone,” JJ mutters, moving away from you.

You’re frowning now, befuddled. “Why is it? It’s true, and it’s how I feel. I want to make us official. I want us to be together.”

“Well, you’re saying that now but what about if we do get together, and I meet your parents and your friends, and you realise how different we are but you feel like you’re stuck with me, and then all of it was for nothing.”

Face the picture of perplexed, your mouth contorts into something ugly. “Where is all of this coming from? What did you think we were doing? I mean, we’ve been fine this past month and I know that there’s something between us.”

“How do you?”

“Because I’m not stupid, JJ,” you sharply reply.

Good, JJ thinks. You’re getting angry. You’ll lose your temper and you’ll let something slip that you weren’t supposed to, and he can bolt without a muddied conscience. He moves away from the bed and starts grabbing his strewn-about clothes in a frenzy to bolt.

“If there’s something between us, why haven’t I met any of your friends yet?”

You stare at him. He takes your hesitation as confirmation to his doubts. Pointing accusingly at you, he snarls, “because you’re embarrassed of me. You’re embarrassed to be seen with a Pogue-nobody from the Cut, in front of your Kook friends.”

“What is your obsession with me being a Kook!?” you exclaim. “Have you ever noticed how I never bring it up? How it’s always you, JJ, talking about it.”

“Well, I feel like I ought'a!”

“Why!?” you vociferate.

“Because what the hell do you want with me anyway!? You’re going to mess around with me for the summer, and get your kicks, and rebel against dear-old daddy, and then ditch me for some Kook jackass, who you’ll marry and he’ll take you on ski trips and summer’s in the Hamptons, and send your snotty children to expensive summer camps, and then you’ll laugh with all your trust-fund friends about how you went slumming once too.”

With that narrative, you laugh in disbelief, mystified. “What kind of fucking story are you spinning?”

“One that’s based on nothing but the facts,” JJ shouts. He’s shaking and angry, but it’s just his panic in disguise. He saw a glimpse of happiness with you and instinctively wanted to smash it up, like a psychopath child and a harmless butterfly. “I mean, you said it yourself - you wanted to do what you’re not supposed to do, for a change. Have a taste of rebellion and then go back to your rich-ass bubble wrap.”

JJ’s seen you possessive before. He’s seen you jealous, and scared, and snippy. But he’s never seen you angry. It’s horrifying.

“Did it ever occur to you that all of that has nothing to do with you? Has nothing to do with you being a Pogue, or me being a Kook?” you yell. Hands flying up to your chest, holding on like your heart might fall out of your skeleton, your voice turns thick. “I was miserable JJ! I was never allowed to do anything; never allowed to go anywhere. I did what my parents told me to do. I went to bed by nine every night. I was wasting my time with all these fucking after-school extra-circulars which I don’t even care about! I hate ballet! I hate piano! Christ, I hate all of it! And my friends are fake as anything. They say one thing to my face, and come to my house for pool parties, and then bitch about me behind my back! They’re assholes, JJ! So, yeah, I didn’t want to waste my time introducing you to them because I don’t actually like them!”

His lips start to quiver uncomfortably as he watches you unravel. It’s like JJ was pulling and pulling on a spring, and now he has to stand and watch it snap.

Make-up free, hair still tousled from earlier, oversized t-shirt half hanging off your frame: there’s no Kook defining thing about you here. It’s just you - just as it always had been.

JJ’s heart cracks as a tear falls down your cheek. With a shaky breath, in a quiet, defeated voice, you tell him, “I wanted to go out with you because I wanted to live. Because most of the time, I feel so useless and so alone that I wonder if I’m even here at all.”

And hearing you say that finally allows the curtain to fall. Only, it revealed to JJ something entirely different to what he expected. To what he’d told himself time and time again. Seeing you cry on your bed because of him…JJ’s made some real big mistakes in his life, but this one surpasses them all.

“So don’t put your shit on me because you’re the one that’s afraid,” you say, stealing yourself as you aggressively wipe your eyes. JJ’s narrow. It’s like poking a searing hot skewer into his most tender of wounds.

“Afraid? What do I have to be afraid of?”

“You’re afraid of me! You’re afraid that I won’t love you back! You’re afraid of what all the shallow people in the County will think! You know what, JJ? I’m afraid too! But fuck it - I want to give a try!”

It feels as exposing as having you peel back his skin. JJ pulls on his t-shirt and shakes his head, turning for the bedroom door, mumbling something about ‘I’m not doing this right now.’

You dart from the bed and grab at his arm, stopping him. “No. No, you’re not leaving,” you blubber.

JJ yanks out of your grip, turning around, lashing out like a stray animal approached all too quick. “What do you wanna know!” He yells. You recoil. “What? That I don’t have a great life? That I’m jealous of how you live compared to me! That I don’t want you to see how I really live because I’m ashamed shitless of it!”

You’re crying, hard, but JJ can’t find it in himself to stop. Why won’t he stop? The butterfly is dead, wings torn from the body, antenas shattered from the beating: but it’s like he doesn’t even want dust to remain.

“That my dad beats the shit out of me, so I sleep at John B’s house!? That I’ll probably end up in a prison cell or an early grave!? You ain't wanna hear that shit! Don’t tell me you want to hear that shit!”

“I do want to hear that stuff! I do want to hear it!” you argue through your sobs. You lift your hands as if you might try and cup his face. “I just want to help you.”

He retracts from your almost-there hold. “Help me! What the fuck! What, do I got a fucking sign on my back that says Save Me?”

“No!”

“Do I look like I need that!?”

Reaching for him again, tears streaming, you wail, “no! God, I just want to be with you because I love you!”

JJ grabs at your wrists, driving you away from him, driving you towards the door until your back presses against it, all the while yelling at you. Don’t bullshit me! Don’t fucking bullshit me!

JJ’s never been lucky to have good things. He waits for his friends to get up and leave. Knows his dad will too, one day, just like his ma. He’ll end up alone, drunk, high, and not long after, dead. You? You’re just a glitch in his programming. A girl who saw a project - yeah, that’s it. A girl who saw a project, a thing to fix, and the moment you have will be the moment that you get bored, and leave him broken hearted and alone. JJ knows more than anyone: you’ve got to leave before you get left.

But as you’re standing with your back against the wall, you don’t cower from him. Don’t wait for him to land a hit on you. Always so trusting. And seeing you, crying, sobbing, begging for him to listen to you, repeating that you love him over and over…JJ knows you’re not the malicious enemy he’s created in his mind. He knows you’re not.

“I want you to tell me that you don’t love me." A shuddering breath, trying to calm your quivering voice. “Because, if you do, I won’t call you anymore. And I won’t be in your life…”

And JJ’s never been good at admitting when he’s wrong. Maybe he learnt it from his dad. Maybe it’s a defensive mechanism. Maybe it’s dumb, childish youth that he never outgrew. So, as you sob, waiting for him to say something - to say you love him - JJ feels his face turn to stone. Cold, emotionless stone.

“I don’t love you.”

He grabs the rest of his shit in one quick sweep and he leaves your bedroom before he has to see the long-lasting damage he once again inflicted on someone. Slams the door. Rushes down the stairs. Passes the barking Ranger, alarmed by all the yelling, and dresses as he stumbles to the front door. In the air of the driveway, he takes a gasping breath, cringing with melancholic agony. Panic rises in his chest like a fist is clenching around his heart, over and over. He raises a hand, rubbing at the uncomfortable pain. JJ knows this feeling well. Knows it from childhood and from adolescence. Knows it almost as much as he knows breathing.

Heartbreak.

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

JJ distracted himself with drinking, smoking and treasure hunting. Indulged at night and diverted throughout the day to avoid any thoughts of you. He was lucky, in a way, that his friends were there to keep him busy. They only asked once why he wasn’t seeing you anymore, wondering why you were never around, and learnt their lesson never to ask again. He tried to hide behind the lie that he’d so easily told himself: that you were a spoilt-bitch Kook who would have ditched him soon anyway. But he remembers your voice and your face clear as day, begging for him to tell you that he loved you. He can picture all too easily your reaction the minute he stepped away from you, after telling the worst lie of his life.

Throwing himself into work was a good distraction. It’s hard to think about you when he’s thinking about how heavy the motor is that he’s lugging, or how close he’s cutting it on time to deliver groceries with Pope. His hurt made him wreckless, like he deserved whatever bad thing might come. You were good karma for returning Ranger and his mistreatment was bound to be paid back to him by the universe. Maybe that was why he’d been so eager to exact revenge on Topper and Rafe. Their attack on Pope certainly made it easier for JJ to handle his hurt when he was reminded of how awful most Kooks are. It was almost possible to group you in with them, to help mitigate the sting of guilt that came whenever your name crossed his mind. Almost.

But, like always, the consequences of his actions were bound to catch up to him. So, as JJ sits beside Pope and Kiara watching the outdoor movie play under the watchful gaze of Topper, Rafe and Kelce, he knows bad things are coming.

“JJ,” Pope says, nudging his leg.

“What?”

“Gotta take a piss.”

JJ’s leg is quivering with building adrenaline. “Hold it.”

“I can’t hold it. I drank too much soda.”

“It’s too exposed, they’ll totally see us,” JJ argues.

“I gotta go,” Pope insists.

JJ purses his lips and glances back over his shoulder the same time Pope turns around. Their eyes land on the three pissed off Kooks, sat like mob bosses, biding their time. They might as well be smoking a pipe and stroking their one-eyed cat like some '50s Bond villain.

“They’re blocking the bathrooms,” Pope observes.

Yeah, no shit. JJ looks around, noticing the woodland behind the giant projection screen. “Alright, come here. I know where.”

The two of them get to their feet, hunching over as they go to move. When Kiara asks where they’re going, JJ shrugs and tells her, ‘we gotta ring it out.’ With that, they venture to the screen and relieve themselves just behind it, out of view, into the shrubs. As they piss, Pope and JJ banter. JJ finishes first, zipping up his fly and turning around to keep watch.

“You bring the peacemaker?” Pope asks, referring to JJ’s beloved gun.

His stomach drops. “Oh, shit, I forgot it.”

“You forgot it?”

“Hurry up! Hurry up!”

“Dude, you had one job. That’s all I asked you to do, man,” Pope complains as he finishes up.

“I know, let’s go,” JJ quickly replies. The moment he turns, JJ comes face to face with Rafe. Fuck.

“What’s up Pogues?”

“What’s up, Rafe?” JJ casually replies, walking backwards with Pope as Rafe approaches steadfast. He won’t let on that he’s scared - learnt that from his dad. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

As Pope tries to make a run for it, Topper emerges, Kelce in tow. “Hey that was some nice work you did on my boat!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Pope fumbles.

JJ assesses the situation. Three on two. Pope isn’t the strongest fighter. No gun. Yeah, the odds are not stacked in their favour.

“Not so burly without a gun now, are you?” Rafe taunts.

JJ’s jaw ticks, his anger rising with his annoyance. The adrenaline is pumping and working its usual magic. Bring it on, pussy. I can take a few licks - it’s my birth-right.

“Take one more step and I’ll rip that prepubescent face off,” JJ warns through clenched teeth. He watches as Topper approaches Pope leisurely.

“Hey Pope, do you feel good about yourself, stealing shit? Is your mom proud of you? Is your dad proud of you?”

Pope slams his head into Topper’s upper chest and pride swills through JJ. “Attaboy! Attaboy!” He grabs his friend’s shoulder, lifting his clenched fist. “Now with your fist, see?”

With that, Rafe claims him. They begin to get in a dust-up. JJ takes the first few punches; each one that lands on his cheek brings searing hot pain that quickly vanishes with shock. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. He taps into the pit inside of him, deep and angry and bitter. His self-hatred, for all the shit he put you through, for all the shit his dad and mom pegged on him…Throws his own punches, then. Wrestles too. Blood begins to draw. Lips crack open. Eyebrows split. But then it’s two on one: Kelce grabbing at him, holding him steady so Rafe can just lay into him. JJ’s winded as Rafe’s fist meets his stomach. He collapses in Kelce’s hold as Rafe right hooks him. And every hit, JJ takes like it’s his earnt punishment.

“Come on, Rafe,” JJ provokes through the agonising pain. “That all you got?”

“Let go of him Topper! You fascist asshole!”

Kiara. She helps Pope first, hitting Topper with JJ’s backpack. At least, that’s what JJ sees through the double vision. The backpack. The gun. Topper grabs it off her and tosses it, and then JJ’s too busy getting the shit beaten out of him to see what follows. It’s all just noise. Blends almost cinematically with the sound of the old-timey movie playing. At some point, it even sounds like there’s a dog barking. Blood fills his mouth like he’s at some sadistic dentist surgery. Pain numbs his nerve endings and softens his muscles. Air becomes a rarity as he’s held in a headlock, half-strangled.

“Let go of them right now!”

Everyone goes still. JJ only notices because he finally has a second to catch his breath, gasping as the arm around his throat loosens just slightly. He opens his eyes, desperate to get his vision steady, and…no fucking way.

There you stand like some designer vigilante heroine. Hair perfect, as always, with not a strand out of place; jewellery to the nines; make-up enhancing your gorgeous features. In your hand, clasped between perfectly manicured nails, is JJ’s gun. It’s pointed directly at Rafe’s forehead.

Rafe laughs. “What? That supposed to scare me or something?”

You grit your teeth, harden your stare, and remain stoic and strong in your stance. Rafe just quirks a brow, a sick smile twisting upwards.

“Oh, what, you’re gonna be the hero here? Why don’t you just run back to your daddy and mind your own fucking business?”

“Let. Them. Go.”

JJ realises then that Ranger is standing by your side. He’s growling, looking feral like Cujo, salivating at the mouth, death-glare set on Kelce who still holds JJ in a headlock. Your command and Kelce might lose a leg.

“What’s it to you?” Topper snaps.

“They’re my friends.”

Okay, no, JJ must have fucking blacked out or something. In the brain damage caused by Rafe, he’s seeing things. You’re his own guardian angel that his dying brain has conjured - that is the only explanation.

All of the Kooks laugh. “Your friends?”

“I won’t ask you again,” you darkly warn, not a spit of humour in your voice.

Rafe whistles lowly. He mockingly raises his hands to his head in surrender. Shares a laugh with Topper and Kelce. It vanishes the minute you unclip the safety.

“You wouldn’t,” Rafe tells you.

Slowly, maleficently, the faintest shadow of a smirk forms on your lip-glossed mouth. “You really want to test that theory?”

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how JJ Maybank ended up in the most insane predicament of his life. Nobody knows what you’re going to do next: not JJ, and probably not even you. As JJ waits, his eyes dart down to Ranger. The very thing that started all of this.

Rafe sniffs. He juts his head at Kelce. When Kelce finally lets JJ go, Topper does the same with Pope. Kiara helps Pope up. JJ leans over, hands on his knees, coughing and gasping in air.

“You’re gonna regret this, you know that? Better keep a fucking eye out, princess,” Rafe warns you as he saunters away with his posse. If JJ wasn’t on the brink of passing out, he’d lay him out for even looking at you.

The minute the three Kooks round the screen, acting as if nothing even happened, you drop the gun on the backpack and race over to JJ. It’s hard not to flinch after his moments-before assault when you clutch his shoulders. He realises that you’re shaking. Hears in the quiver of your voice how shit-scared you are.

“Oh my God! Are you okay? Can you breathe?”

No and no.

“Do you need to sit down? What should I–”

No, definitely don’t sit down.

“Come on - we need to go,” Kiara tells you. She has Pope’s weight on her.

You seem to copy, taking her guidance from her years of experience with hanging with the guys, and guide JJ away from the scene of the crime. You grab the backpack as you go, the gun shoved inside (safety now on). Ranger licks anxiously at JJ’s hand, whining in worry.

“I’m alright, boy,” JJ lies to the dog in a slur.

swirling, becoming blacker and blacker with every step. His body is screaming for rest and reprieve. He vaguely overhears you tell Kie where you’re parked. Lets you half-drag him to your ride. The minute JJ’s helped into the backseat, safe in the smell of you, he blacks out.

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

The first thing JJ notices when he wakes up is how much his head hurts. There’s a headache above his brows, similar to that which you get when hungover. It feels like his brain was a ping pong ball, rattled around in there for hours on end. Sniffing, he groans as he tries to sit up. There’s a hand pushing him back down to the bed gently.

“Just lie still, for now,” you say softly. “No sudden movements, okay?”

JJ groans again, eyes pressed shut. At the sensation of a straw pressing against his lips, he drinks.

“Open your mouth,” you say after he swallows. JJ does as he’s told, in too much pain to argue. You give him a few pills - presumably painkillers - and help him chase them with water. “I’ll be right back.”

JJ must fall back asleep. When he comes to for the second time, the pain in his head is significantly lessened, as are all the general aches and pains of his body. He dreads the idea of looking in a mirror: he’s probably black and blue. Saying that, it’s not like it’s an unfamiliar state to him. Opening his eyes, he immediately recognises your bedroom. As if on cue, you walk through the door, a mug of what must be steaming hot tea in hand. When your eyes meet his, a relieved smile comes to your face.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he rasps.

Making your way over, tea deposited on the bedside table, you take the seat next to him. Shit, no wonder he was sleeping so well. Your bed is like sponge cake.

“How you feeling?”

“Like shit,” JJ grunts. You stifle a laugh. Shifting to sit up, his brows furrow as last night comes back to him, piece by piece. “Did I…Was I hallucinating, or did you save our ass?”

“Mmm, I might have maybe just saved your ass,” you innocently reply.

Shaking his head, JJ rubs tiredly at his face.

“I’m not even going to ask what Rafe and his gang of fairies were angry about.”

“Yeah, that’s probably the best idea,” JJ cringes.

He finally braves holding your gaze. There’s a distance there - a reluctance to be fully present - and JJ knows it’s because of him.

“That was really ballsy, what you did,” he tells you.

“It's nothing,” you quietly reply.

“You’re probably going to lose your Kook card now.”

“Never liked it that much in the first place,” you say with a half-smile.

JJ silently laughs, shaking his head, mesmerised. He was so wrong about you. About all of it. “I was, uh...kind of a dick to you.”

“Yeah…”

“And…you were right,” he mumbles.

Brows lifting slightly, a small, amused smile teases your lips. “What was that sorry?”

“You were right,” he repeats, no louder.

Leaning in, a finger to your ear, you say, “one more time, I didn't quite catch it.”

“Fuck off,” JJ groans, shoving you away with hardly any force.

You snort out a laugh. The moment the humour passes, you look back to him. He feels as though he can hear your thoughts. Your anger and annoyance and insecurity and pain. He hears it all in the emotion swimming through your eyes. So, he nods.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, JJ,” you whisper.

One of his hairs falls into his face. Before he can react, you’re leaning forward, brushing it out the way. JJ captures your wrist quickly, keeping you near, almost panicked that if you move even a millimetre away, he’ll lose you forever. In that same frenzy, desperate to have you close, he forces out the three words he’s never let himself say to anyone. Ever.

“I love you.”

Face an exact replica of the one you made that day on the beach, you blink at him. Once, then twice. JJ nods again.

“I just…I can’t…It doesn’t…”

“I know,” you say, forehead bumping against his own as you lean down. Then, in a whisper, you add, “I know. It’s okay.”

JJ sniffs, suddenly overcome with emotion, and nods against you. As his eyes press shut, you kiss him. It’s slightly salty with tears but no less welcome. He winces as your hand cups his jaw. Kisses you through your mumbled apology against his lips.

And as the two of you kiss, JJ realises that this was all it ever had to be. It was never that complicated, never that layered, because all that mattered was you. Wonderfully, princess-perfect, Kook-turned-Pogue you.

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj #obx #outer banks #obx fic #jj x kook!reader #kook!reader #jj maybank x kook!reader #obx kook #kook x pogue

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violetpixiedust · 6 months

Text

thinking about spending a day at the beach with your bf jj and the rest of the pogues. ♡

18+. afab reader. no description of appearance. fluff/smut. use of ‘papa’ once, mentions of spanking. shy!kook!reader x dom!jj.

in between searching for the cross, evading the law, and intense fights with the kooks, a beach day was certainly a nice escape from an otherwise hectic lifestyle.

the sand is warm and pale beneath your knees as you sit in your cute little bikini beside jj’s damp body. he’s laid along a ratty old towel, littered with a few holes and fraying at the edges. beads of saltwater meld themselves within his tan skin from his previous surfing exertion, eager to soak up the sunlight with you now that he’s gotten his adrenaline fix. you had been searching for seashells and sea glass with kiara while the boys were out on the water. ending up with a good sized pouch by the time your boyfriend ran up to meet you on the shore, shaking out his soaking dirty blonde locks at you like a dog. squeals and joyful giggles left your lipgloss coated pout, strumming alongside the seagulls.

absentmindedly, you hum when your manicured nails sort through your small treasures, careful not to let them get lost in the never ending sand. it isn’t until you notice your boyfriend’s baritone voice humming alongside you that you burst into giggles. you meet his sea-foam blue eyes from where they peak out above his black sunglasses, frames falling to the bridge of his lightly freckled nose. one of your pearly teeth reach out to bite along your plush bottom lip, shyly taking in the handsome sight of jj laid beside you.

damp swim trunks hang low on his paler hips, golden happy trail leading you up to the toothpick balancing between his freshly licked lips. the pogue grins slyly in amusement, satisfaction at your sudden shyness running through his veins like the sweetest high. “c’mere, princess. up.” you don’t have time to check for the whereabouts of your friends before the large palm of jj’s hand crudely reaches underneath your thigh, skin burning as he leads you to straddle his torso. you briefly hear pope gagging and john b’s amused laughter behind you, but ultimately choose to ignore them when jj’s calloused fingertips reach out to play with the hem of your swimsuit, effectively distracting you. “‘gonna show me those pretty little rocks takin’ up all of your attention now?”

you nod with a soft smile, shyly avoiding jj’s heady gaze for a moment, unknowing to the way his expression softens incredibly at the sweetness emitting from you. floaty and radiant, like his own personal angel. his calloused thumbs rub soothing circles along your hips as he watches you begin to explain each piece of sea glass you chose, head feeling as if it were underwater still with how gorgeous you are. his ringed fingers faintly shake when he thinks about how undeserving he is for someone like you. an angel from figure eight. outer banks pride and joy. who used to send him a shy little wave at the boneyard, eyelashes fluttering when he would wave back, his split lip pulling up into a smirk at the dazed look that overtook you. the girl who now jumped onto the back of his bike in boarder-line scandalous mini skirts, sweet and powdery perfume clouding the pogue’s judgement for a second too long. until your freshly done nails would dig into his waist, melodic voice urging your pogue boyfriend to hurry up and drive. the overprotective housekeeper would attempt to chase after the two of you with a broom in her wrinkled hand, before being buried by the dust billowing beneath the bike’s spinning wheels every single time.

it isn’t until you hold up a few pieces of sea glass to the side of his face with a cheer of excitement that he tunes back in. “mm, what’s the squealing for, cupcake?”

“i found a piece that looks like your eyes. see!” you bend over to get a closer look at the comparison, completely unaware of the way your tits push up together near jj’s face. a shaky breath leaves your boyfriend’s bitten lips, his suddenly rosy cheeks startling you for a moment before you feel the noticeable shift of his hips beneath you. instead of gasping cutely and sitting up like jj expected you to, your moment of realization morphs into a sly expression.

and jj knew that look.

“don’t-“ you riskily pay no mind to your boyfriend’s warning tone, “innocently” slinking back along his body with a soprano sigh. your manicured nails rake over his abdomen on your path backwards, cupped heat just brushing past the now obvious tent in jj’s swim trunks-

instantly, the pogue manhandles you into place. you squeak at the firmness of his ringed grip, heart pumping with adrenaline when his sun kissed hands force your back against his warm chest in record speed. shark tooth necklace digging between your shoulder blades. your bum pushes against jj’s erection with a final maneuver- now out of sight, but still painfully hard against you.

“whoa. chill out, mike tyson-“ john b drunkly remarks with a surprised laugh before sipping on his nearly finished can of pbr, blissfully unaware of the previous situation. meanwhile, sarah smirks knowingly at the two of you from beside her aloof boyfriend, meeting your playful gaze with one of her own.

you’re about to suggest a game with a mischievous wiggle of your hips, clearly not learning your lesson- before jj’s long fingers cup your jaw from behind, gripping you in place. the blonde’s rosy lips press to your ear, his left hand intertwining with your own smaller one, voice low. “y’not going anywhere, duchess. need you to calm down and behave. unless you want me to spank you raw on this beach in front of our friends, hm?”

your breath hitches with surprise at the threat as you watch kiara and pope run back from the ocean dripping saltwater, jj’s words echoing in the now hollow structure of your head. “and if you’re good,” the blonde nods your head up and down for you like a ragdoll for good measure, smirk curling along his chapped lips with faux innocence gleaming from his eyes. he’s more than aware of the pressure building between your pretty legs, your glossy eyes looking up at him for guidance. not to mention the shivers that clatter down your spine at the idea of being put in your place for everyone on the beach to see. all he could do was harden at the thought. “papa’ will let ya show him which one of these rocks he can put on your pretty little finger soon, yeah?”.

the pogue waits for you to nod your own head ‘yes’ like a big girl before placing a kiss on the crown of your head. your shy expression stays hidden against his heart, a giddy smile drawing across your glossy lips as you think about your future with jj.

needless to say, you behaved for the rest of the afternoon.

#this is my first time writing for himmm sorry if it’s a bit ooc #jj maybank #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader fluff #jj maybank x reader smut #jj maybank fanfiction #dom!jj maybank #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #pixie’s works * ੈ✩‧₊˚

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princessbrunette · 7 months

Note

thoughts on jj x bunny!reader ??

oooof, yes. i think it’s time we revisit the au where it’s bsf!jj and kook, prissy, well groomed bunny!reader.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 ⋅🐰 ˖°

you’re total opposites. yes you want to fuck eachother. yes you’re both oblivious to this.

your parents were never a fan of the pogue boy from the start. especially your father. he didn’t like the way that dirty pogue with the big smug smile would shake his hand at the door when he’d come round to pick you up, still wearing that black backwards cap and an expression that said ‘i’m probably balls deep in your sweet innocent daughter. you’ll never know.’ they’d scowl when they’d watch you disappear down the driveway with him, clutching his arm, practically rubbing all up on him in your tiny skirts. sometimes he’d even look back at them with a cheeky grin, like he just couldn’t believe it either. it was obscene, but they couldn’t stop you. you were soft, yes — but what bunny wanted, bunny got — and it just so appeared that bunny wanted to slum it with some blonde stoner from the cut, so for now they’d have to bite their tongue until you learn your lesson.

jj can’t spoil you like he wants to, no— he’s broke, and plus there wasn’t much you didn’t already have. but he’ll be damned if he didn’t give you the princess treatment, it was the least he could do for perving on his sweet, innocent best friend who knew no better (right?)

what this entails, is never having the power to tell you no. you need picking up from a kook party because you’re too tipsy and he certainly doesn’t trust rafe cameron to see it to it that you’re safe? he’s already outside, and has been for twenty minutes. you wanna learn how to smoke weed because you’ve never done it before? it’s better off he teaches you anyway, right? he would put his foot down with you, clearly needing some guidance and ‘taming’ if you will, but it’s harder than it seems.

“please, jayj?” you cling to his arm stood at his side, plush tits pressed against his bicep and eyelashes batting up at him routinely.

“nah, don’t do that.” he groans, shutting his eyes.

“pleaaaase?”

“you know it’s like, really not fair to pull the doe eyes on me. disappointing you is like… choking out a baby rabbit or something.”

“so you’ll come with me?” you muse hopefully and his eyes flutter, bordering on a roll as he licks his lips.

“fine, okay? fine.”

“weak.” john b passes by, clucking his tongue with a smug head shake.

“weak and pussy whipped.” pope follows him, bringing his can to his lips.

he’s also always getting looped into all of your girly shit somehow. “lets uh, keep this our special little secret, yeah cupcake?” he’s likely to say from your bedroom wearing a robe too small for him with cucumbers on his eyes, a victim of your ‘spa day’— which he secretly agreed to because he saw the potential of some possible feel-ups. maybe a massage, or showering together. not this shit.

you’ve also heard the phrase. “aint no way you’ve tied a pink ribbon to my bike again, princess.” more times than you can count. again, girly shit.

it does pay off though, the pogue tucked up in your pristine bed when your parents are out of town, whistling jokingly when you arrive back from the shower with just a towel tied round you.

“ooo—wee, aint that a sight.” he calls and you giggle, walking over to his side.

“not ashamed of anythin’ around you, jayj— just that comfortable. look!” you pull the towel off, giggling and doing a spin as you reveal your still dripping naked figure, pretty much the blondes wet dream presented before him.

it’s safe to say he nearly loses composure, but he’ll settle for you riling yourself up based purely on his reaction and praise, writhing your naked body on his lap only fifteen minutes later, humping him through his sweatpants.

“th—this isn’t normal for best friends, jj!” you mewl, body still warm and damp as he paws at you anywhere he can get his hands on.

“sure it is, sweetcheeks. don’t even trip.”

୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 ⋅🐰 ˖°

#bimbokendall #jj maybank prompt #bunny!reader

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babygorewhore · 9 months

Text

Prey

Rafe Cameron x Fem reader

Part one

Part two

After moving to the Outer banks to stay with your cousin, John B after your parents death, you catch the eye of Kooks. After being invited to one of his parties as part of a bet, you realize that Rafe Cameron has decided to make you his. Even if that means he’s going to stalk you.

W.C over 3k

Thank you so much to @take-everything-you-can and @reidsbtch for beta reading!!

Warnings! FemReader is alternative and introverted! Parental death! Bullying! Implications of stalking and flashing! Reader is slightly naive and easily manipulated at first. No use of y/n. No smut in this part but it’s definitely going to be in part two and I’m crazy. Concept inspired by @sadfury and Haunting Adeline by H.D Carlton. Events after season two but altered because I said so.

John B let you settle into your new room as you slightly grimaced. This was the last thing you ever expected, moving here away from home. But after the death of your parents, you weren’t able to live alone, you didn’t have a choice. He was the only family you had left.

You couldn’t be more different. He was used to the beach life, a Pouge as he educated you on the drive here after you arrived. He was sunshine, tan and light colored clothes. Sandals and shorts.

You on the other hand were an all black wearing, band shirts, dark makeup and tall boots that gave you at least four inches. You stood out like a sore thumb.

It was hard to adjust to the passing of your parents after the sudden car accident. It couldn’t be more cliche.

If you weren’t in your room crying, you were usually scrolling aimlessly on social media looking at your photos of them.

Shy wasn’t the exact word to describe you, introverted was a better description and you completely dreaded the next day because John B was determined to show you around and introduce you to his girlfriend and friends. You tried to smile, practicing in the mirror but it looked painfully fake.

The weather was just as hot as John B mentioned. You were wearing a band t shirt, black shorts and he tried to convince you to wear flip flops but you kept on your converse shoes. The beach was crowded much to your distain and you desperately wished you brought an umbrella.

This part of the beach had a golf course not far away and you had never played golf a day in your life. You stuck to solitary hobbies.

“You sure you’re not gonna get too hot in that? I can buy you a swimsuit.” John B nudged you with his elbow and you shook your head.

“No, thanks. I’d rather wear something I’m comfortable in.” You forcefully smiled as you shield your eyes from the sun rays.

“So, uh. We have a library in town, a few shops nearby. We have a pretty good restaurant Kie’s parent’s own. I know you remember some-unless you want to be alone.”

“I think that’s good right now.” You confessed as you both settled your towels on a spot on the beach. The waves crashed and it was a soothing sound you didn’t expect.

“Wow, it’s so beautiful.” You nodded.

John B smiled. “I’ll take it.”

You laid down on the towel, gingerly moving off any sand that flicked onto your calves. You did bring a book you were determined to finish when John B growled. “Fucking prick.”

“Why so hostile?” You questioned, you never saw him angry. John b crossed his arms and pointed behind you.

You turned, twisting your back to see two men at the golf course. You squinted but you could tell one of them was pointing in your direction. They were both blonde, dressed in preppy light clothing while holding golf clubs. They looked rich.

“Who are they?”

“Kooks. The worst of them. That one is Topper, he’s Sarah’s ex boyfriend and the taller one is Rafe. Her insane brother who beat the shit out of me, Pope and JJ.” You scowled and turned around.

“Kooks are the…?”

“Slang for the rich people. You and I are the Pouges.”

A few minutes later, his friends joined you. They were nice, really nice and outgoing. You stayed mostly quiet, watching the interactions and the way they swam in the water. Kie stayed with you the longest, consistent in her question if you needed anything or wanted to join them. You declined each time. Needing alone time after the long trip and new environment.

You sighed, having enough of uncomfortable sun bathing and decided to get a drink. You still had some cash and it wouldn’t kill it to just buy a soda. You walked to a shack, quickly wiping off your shoes of all sand.

You started towards the counter, grateful there wasn’t a line when a a blonde male moved around and stepped in front of you. He was the same man who was pointing at you and John B. The friend of this infamous Rafe.

“Hi, you must be John B’s cousin.” You remembered his name. Topper. He stuck out his hand and you folded your arms.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“Everyone’s heard about you, John B wanted to brag and Sarah couldn’t wait to meet you.” You internally winced at the not so subtle anger in his voice.

“Right, yeah.” You told him your name and started to step around him. “I’m just here to buy a drink.”

“Oh, let me,”

“No, really I’m fine-“ You both stood at the counter.

“I insist.” Topper paid for your soda and you wanted this interaction to be over.

“I’m not trying to be rude, but is there something you wanted?” You held the bottle protectively as he smirked.

“Sorry, I’ll get to the point. But I noticed how you were talking to the gang John b is friends with. And I wanted to see if you’d let a couple of Kooks let you show you around. You’ll actually get to see the island.”

Your hackles raised immediately and he sensed it.

“Don’t worry, we’re not gonna do anything. I just wanted to be nice. If you don’t want a tour, Rafe is throwing a party tonight. I wanted to invite you.” You raised an eyebrow and scoffed.

“No offense Topper but John B told me that Kooks wanted nothing to do with Pouges and how much you both hated him. Why would you be nice to me?”

To your dismay, he stepped closer. “Just because you’re John B’s cousin doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. And you don’t seem like you want to stay on the beach all day. Come on, maybe you’ll have a good time?”

You wanted to scream hell no, but something in your chest secretly wanted to get away, get a distraction for why you left home and John B unintentionally reminded you of your loss.

“I’ll-I’ll think about it.” Tooper smiled triumphantly and quickly wrote down on a napkin his number.

“Here. I really hope you come. And I can pick you up if you want.”

You gulped the bottle of coke and made your way back to the beach. After a few more hours of roasting underneath the sun, the invitation felt more and more appealing. The air conditioning didn’t work at John B’s house even though he was trying to fix it. And would one night really be so bad to let loose with a bunch of rich kids?

When you asked John b to drive you home, he kept asking you if you’d be okay alone and you firmly said yes. You left out the information of a party and Topper as you scrambled to find something to wear. Everything you had was black. Well. At least mostly everything.

You owned a pair of sparkly, silver high heels that you got as a birthday present two years ago for your twenty first and you hadn’t gotten a chance to wear them. Biting your lip, you slipped on a black dress that was mid thigh height, ruffles at the bottom of the skirt and it was a v neck exposing your bust.

Your hair was messy from the bun it was in all day so you braided it in two. Quickly slapping on makeup, you pulled out your phone and texted Toppers number.

“Is the offer still on the table?”

He responded almost immediately. “Of course! I’ll be there in twenty”

True to his word, he was there in twenty and you inhaled. You could do this. You could go to one party.

The ride was…okay. He talked to you about the landmarks and talked about who would be there. His friends since childhood and of course…he talked about Rafe. How great he was. How rich he was. How he took over his parents empire after his father’s death and he ran it alone. You withheld comments about being handed down rich lively hood as you kept quiet.

You dreaded if he made any advances towards you but he never did. He was ever the gentlemen when he parked in the driveway of the massive penthouse. Booming with music, you saw people dancing through the bare windows and the balcony.

You couldn’t believe you were here. John B probably wouldn’t assume you were out of your room and besides. You were a grown woman capable of your own decisions.

“Let’s go,” Topper opened the door for you and you followed him inside. It was crowded. More than any party you’d been too.

Several people turned and stared at you, you couldn’t tell if it was judgement or curiosity. You clutched your small bag where your phone was closer. You could call John B anytime, despite his probable anger.

“Can I get you a drink? I can introduce you to some people.”

“Sure, thanks.” You wanted to scream for him not to leave you alone but you stayed strong and drifted to a corner.

God, now you were having regrets as the music turned up and people started cheering. Topper was taking longer than expected and you decided to be brave. Fuck it. You moved from your place and wandered around. Your heels clicking over the wooden floors.

The kitchen was almost filled to the brim with people, several sitting on the island and girls immediately turned towards you and paused mid conversation. Topper held two cups as he talked to Kelce.

“Oh, hey! I was just about to find you.” Uneasiness settled in your chest as you took the red cup. “It’s okay. I just-.i feel a little awkward.” You whispered.

“Come on, I wanna introduce you to the man of the hour.”

You started gulping the alcohol to try and suppress your nerves as you both climbed the stairs to another lounge area with dark lights. People were doing lines, slurring from drunkenness and making out. Basically fucking as your eyes narrowed on Rafe.

Up close, he was fucking hot. Sharp jawline, blonde hair that was separated with bangs and crystal clear blue eyes that were currently focused on a girl straddling his lap.

They were tongues and teeth making you feel even more uncomfortable and another emotion hit you. You tried to shove it away, but his fitted light pants around his muscular thighs, t shirt that exposed his defined arms and large hands…thick fingers gripped her ass.

Oh god, you were fucking jealous over a man you hadn’t even talked too.

“Hey, man. Hate to interrupt, but this is the new girl.” You tried not to bite your lip and smear your lipstick as he pulled away from her.

His light eyes swept over you, pausing longer on your tits, hips and exposed legs. He gave you a nod before a small smirk slid towards Topper. “Get off,” he lifted the poor girl off and plopped her on the couch to her distain.

Your core tightened in anticipation as he drew closer. He couldn’t be more opposite. In clothes. In height. In status. He oozed power, money and sex. With a little danger.

“Mmm. Yeah. I saw you today with John B. Didn’t expect him with Tim Burton.”

You cleared your throat, offense rising but you tried to remember you were in his house and yelling at him probably wasn’t the best idea given he could crush you. You started to extend your hand but he turned.

“Hey, get your asses to the pool! Im tired of being up here!” He called out and everyone started moving quickly. His commands obeyed without question as he jerked his hand to point them downstairs.

“Oh, I don’t have a swimsuit with me-“

“You live on the beach. But you didn’t bring one, Tim Burton?” Rafe challenged, looking down at you with a hazed look. You couldn’t tell if it was dislike or anger.

Why would he invite you if he didn’t like you?

“Come on,” Topper gestured with his head for you to follow him.

The pool was lit from under the water where several half naked people were playing chicken, kissing and smoking. You didn’t exactly mind the scene but it was entirely out of your comfort zone. Your heels caught a puddle on the concrete and arms caught you.

You inhaled sharply, thinking for a second it was Rafe but you saw him sitting on a lounge chair with the same girl perched on his thigh. She was beautiful except for the death glare she was giving you. You turned around to see your savior. It was Kelce who gave you a smirk before you were launched over his shoulder.

You screamed, “What the FUCK?!” And then you saw Topper briefly before you sailed into the cold pool. The water stung your eyes as you flailed from the weight of your shoes and panic. You clasped onto the side and pulled yourself up.

Everyone was laughing. Even recording you.

Your chest burst with embarrassment, anger and utter heartbreak as you knew how stupid you were for believing this was a kind invitation.

You wiped your face as you got your bearings and black liner, lipstick and foundation smeared all over your hand. “Fucking shit.”

You went to climb up but you slipped again, causing more laughter.

You remembered your phone, oh god your phone. No, your purse was still held by Kelce. You let your anger heave you over and you crawled up, shakily standing before you yanked your heels off. Everyone was still laughing and recording but you locked eyes on Rafe himself.

He wasn’t laughing. But his eyes held a hint of amusement and the corner of his mouth was tilted up.

You wanted to run. Cry and scream. That’s exactly what they expected. Instead, you marched towards him, shoving people out of your way as you stepped in front of him and the girl.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You growled, pointing a dripping finger. “Is this your idea of some kind of joke?”

He shrugged. “It looks like I won five thousand dollars. Top didn’t think you’d actually come. I said you couldn’t resist some attention, Tim Burton.” He parted his legs further as he got comfortable.

You were seething but you were also petty. So you took the bottom of your dress, not caring if it exposed your black panties underneath around the crotch as his blue eyes immediately dipped down to the area. You flapped the skirt. Splashing water right in their faces. And when he stood up, the girl followed suit, you slapped him.

Hard but he hardly moved an inch as he chuckled darkly and took a small step forward. The water dripped from his brow and landed on the ground.

“Fuck. You.” You hissed. You turned around and flipped everyone off before he could get a chance to tell you off.

You stormed away, bursting through the house, ignoring the cat calls as you shoved open the front door. You didn’t have a car and it was late. You had ripped your purse away from Kelce and checked your phone. John B was calling you.

You answered. “Hello?”

“Oh my god, are you okay? I’ve been calling for an hour, where did you go?” He sounded worried and you winced.

“Um. Can you pick me up?”

“Yeah, of course. Where are you?” You cringed at his question but you had no choice.

“I’m at Rafe Cameron’s house.”

To say John B was angry was an understatement as you were sitting like a scolded child in his living room. You were still soaked like a wet cat as he rummaged to find a towel.

“I can’t believe you fell for it! I told you about those assholes. You can never trust them. Why did you even go?”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a child!” You finally snapped, standing. “I made a mistake. Can we just let it go?”

“Let it go? Rafe Cameron is a monster and you were made as an example for Pouges and now he has more ammo. He’s never going to leave it alone. And you may never-“

“What? Show my face? Be accepted? Guess what, John B, I’m already fucking USED to it. And maybe I just wanted a distraction from what happened. For once, I just wanted to let loose. Obviously, I fucked up. I’m going to bed.” You ground out and moved toward your bedroom.

“Wait, I’m sorry-“ But you slammed the door and locked it.

You were too upset to even shower as you yanked off your dress, underwear and shoved on an oversized t shirt, put your hair up and flopped onto the mattress.

Now, the tears started as you looked on social media.

Somehow they found your account and tagged you in dozens of videos of the incident. Horribly mean comments underneath caused you to cry harder. You never should have gone.

You hugged your pillow, about to close your phone and throw it, when a text came through. You didn’t recognize the number but hair raised on your arm as you read the words.

“Maybe if you did more than flash your panties, I would make them take them down.”

You sat up immediately. Now this, this had to be a joke. Rafe Cameron was texting you.

“Go. Fuck yourself. And don’t text me. I’m blocking you.”

“Do you really think this is my only phone number, Tim Burton?”

Your mouth parted. He was right but you thought of another tactic.

“Fine. I’ll change mine tomorrow.”

“Good luck. I’ll find out what it is.“ You clenched your jaw. Half a mind to call and scream at him.

“Leave me alone.”

The reply came almost immediately.

“I make the rules here, princess. Not you.”

You then pressed the call button. It rang once, twice, three times. “Pick up, asshole.” You grunted.

Finally, it stopped ringing and you heard silence. “I know you’re there, douchebag. Don’t text me anymore and don’t fucking call me princess.”

“Are you still trying to have control, princess?” You had to breathe deeply so you wouldn’t wake the neighbors with your yelling.

“What are you doing, Cameron? Why are you talking to me? After what you did? After hurting me like that? Is this some sort of sick game? Well, I’m not playing it. Stay the fuck away from me, you son. Of. A. Bitch.”

“I would be very careful how you talk to me, little girl. What makes you think this wasn’t what I wanted? You. All to myself.”

Fear stilled you as you whispered, “You-you leave me alone. I don’t like you. In fact, I hate you and I hate what you did! Fuck off.” You then hung up.

You shut off the light and crawled back into bed. Your body went from boiling hot to now ice cold. You blocked his number. Quickly and you shut your eyes. Drifting into a nightmare filled sleep being tormented by Kooks. Rafe Cameron’s voice and then…you dreamed of his dark eyes trailing the outline of your pussy through your black panties.

You snapped awake at the knock of your door.

“Hey, uh…do you want to go to breakfast? If not, that’s okay. I just want to make up for what happened. I feel awful for yelling at you and this shouldn’t be your first impression.”

You were tempted to say no. Let him go alone but you were hungry. And you wanted a distraction from the event last night. Sighing, you got out of bed. “Yeah, I’ll be right out.”

You throw on a pair of black shorts and your converse. Still wearing your big shirt and ponytail. You were weary of your phone, but you forced yourself to move past your fear and you snatched it from the pillow.

Another number was on your screen but you could see part of the message. You could only squeak when you opened it.

“I hope you enjoy breakfast, baby doll. I’d hate for you to starve that pretty little body. But I want you to behave. Like a good girl. Or this will be harder for you.”

Your mouth was completely dry when you stared at the screen. Oh fuck. He was true to his word. This was another number. But how the hell would he know about this morning? You realized the reality of this situation. He had eyes and ears everywhere.

You were certainly fucked.

And not in a good way.

Tagging

@scene-and-dandylover @xxhellfirebunnyxx @slvt4jamesmarch @take-everything-you-can @drewstarkeyslut @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @emsgoodthinkin @imyourdaninow @reidsbtch

#rafe cameron #rafe fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #Rafe Cameron x fem reader #Rafe Cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe x reader #rafe cameron obx

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somethingswift19 · 8 months

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Who? JJ Maybank x Tattooed (f) Reader

| Warnings: mentions of abuse, swearing, over protective JJ (mildly), alternative reader

| Summary: JJ noticed your medusa tattoo for the first time. All characters are in their 20s in this

| (a/n): I don't know how I feel about this ending. But I hope y'all enjoy!

You weren't like the others on Kildare Island. Technically you were a kook like Kie, but also like Kie you were a pouge through and through. Your dad was ex military and now worked for the local prison while your mom owned the only tattoo shop in the county. Due to this, your family tended to stand out which also meant you lacked in the friends department. That was until you met Kiara.

You and Kie had been inseparable since you met at the kook academy your freshman year. Neither of you wanted to be there but were forced by your mothers to attend. For her 16th birthday present, the two of you even got matching dolphin tattoos. Then when Sarah came along it became the three of you.

This led you to now. You were a 23 year old bartender at The Wreck, Kie's family restaurant, and the two of you had just gotten off shift. Running to the back you threw on your black "I <3 Hot Dads" hoodie, jean shorts, and red high top vans before throwing your messy, curly hair up into a bun. "Hey (y/n), are you ready?" your best friend yelled from the doorway.

"Yeah I'm coming!" grabbing your backpack, you followed her out. You had plans to meet the boys at the beach for a bonfire tonight after work. You had only met them a few times, and all of said times a certain blonde had caught your attention. Getting in the car you got settled but Kie didn't stop staring. "Can I help you?" you laughed.

"Oh no. Just wondering if you were gonna spend the whole night drooling over JJ again and not make a move like last time," she shrugged. Rolling your eyes you told her to just go.

Grabbing the beer out of the back, the two of you made your way towards the beach. "Hey girlies!" the familiar voice of Sarah Cameron rang out. "We were beginning to wonder when the two of you were showing up!"

"Blame the one who had to get ready before we came here," Kiara side eyed you before all three of you began to laugh.

"Listen! Is it a crime to want to look half way decent for my two besties other friends? I mean gotta make a good impression right?" you continued laughing.

"Yeah right. I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that JJ is here tonight," Sarah teased you causing you to lightly hit her in the arm as the three of you headed down to the sand. After reaching the firepit you got settled onto the soft sand sitting crisscross applesauce. "Where's Pope?"

"He had homework for his fancy college program," the blonde boy you had been looking forward to seeing all night responded as he sat down next to you and handed you a beer. Nodding your head you took a swig out of the bottle you had been handed. The other three in the group were busy talking about something Sarah's brother did when JJ leaned over and broke the silence between the two of you. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't look like anyone I've ever seen around here." You gave him a funny look before he quickly added, "Like it's a good thing! It's cute! Just very different!"

A blush formed on your freckled cheeks, "Thank you...I Think." He was right though. You had long curly black hair with tiny bits of green throughout, both sides of your nose pierced along with your septum, and both ears pierced all the way up. Not to mention the tattoos. Yet you still had a sweetness or "innocence" to you.

"You're welcome!" he smiled proudly to himself for causing the pink tinge. "Now tell me about your tattoos!"

"Well what do you wanna know?" You inquired. The two of you being so wrapped up in your own conversation to realize the other three had left you two alone.

"Well for starters, how many do you have?" genuine curiosity was shown on his face. You fascinated him. "I mean I can see you have your traditional patchwork leg done here, but do you have any more?"

"Well," you began. "I have my leg sleeve (of course), then I also have a full arm sleeve, and one down my side. And then a secret one that matches Sarah and Kie's." you smirked before beginning to giggle when he looked astonished.

"We are gonna circle back to the mystery tattoos later!" the blonde boy exclaimed. "But can I see your sleeve?" You nodded with a hint of reluctance only because of one tattoo. You took off your hoodie so you were only in your tank top. JJ began examining all of the colorful pieces you had but quickly stopped when he saw the medusa adorning your upper arm. His face went from curious and playful to stern. "Who?"

"It's really not important," fixated on the fire you really were hoping to not have this conversation yet. You were always cold but the hoodies also helped keep that hidden.

"You can talk to me," his blue eyes softened. He didn't want to push you but wanted to at least offer. "My dad...he used to beat the shit out of me. I used to blame myself. Would convince myself that I deserved it somehow. My fiends helped snap me out of that."

The two of you sat there in silence for several minutes before you brought yourself to open up, "It was my ex. He had a hard time taking no for an answer." JJ didn't say anything but just let you confide in him. "But before that, I went through something similar to you. My dad was an angry guy. I remember showing up to school with black eyes and having to have my friends cover for me. Then when I was 16, things got particularly bad. He slapped me so hard I fell down and he stormed out. Said 'He should have left me and my bitch of a mom a long time ago'...he came back the next morning in tears and never laid a hand on me since. So then when my ex did what he did, it just brought out suppressed memories."

JJ immediately brought you into a hug while wiping a tear off your cheek, "I am so sorry." You looked up into his beautiful baby blue eyes when the two of you leaned in. He kissed you so gently and tasted so sweet you thought you were in heaven. That was until he whispered onto your lips "So what are these secret tattoos the three of you girls share?" Laughing you buried your face into his chest.

"It's so embarrassing," you blushed as he started to chuckle right when the other three showed back up from what looked like swimming. "Oh! Just in time! (y/n) here was just about to enlighten me on these secret tattoos of yours!"

"Don't do it!" and "She was not!" were said in unison by other two.

"Come on guys we should tell them," you smiled and you all three agreed. "Ok, so just know the three of this did this to celebrate graduating high school. We were young and dumb."

"Oh this is gonna be good," John B mumbled.

"We all have a different fruit," Sarah continued.

"On each of our asses," Kiara finished. The two boys burst out laughing.

"Are you being for real?" John B asked. "I mean I knew about yours Sarah, but all three of you?" he couldn't hold back the laughter anymore.

JJ leaned over and whispered just to you, "I can't wait to see what yours is." Causing you to once again turn bright red. You knew you were in trouble with this boy when he just smirked down and kissed you again saying, "You're too damn cute when you blush like that."

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj x y/n #jj outerbanks #jj maybank #obx #outer banks #john b routledge #sarah cameron #kiara carrera #obx fanfiction #jj maybank fanfic #jj obx imagine #obx fic #jj imagine #rafe cameron

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bunnys-cove · 4 months

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I know the concept of kook!Pope is heavily inspired by Jonathan Daviss’ appearance in “Do Revenge” & the students in that film are always talking about the Ivy Leagues, but idk I feel like kook!Pope is an HBCU man….maybe Morehouse👀

-Anyways moodboard loading….

#pope heyward x black!reader #pope heyward #kook!pope #kook!pope x black!reader #kook!pope x black reader #kook!pope x reader #kook!pope heyward x black reader #x black!reader

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nemesyaaa · 3 months

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half return. momma's boy!pope x maneater!reader.

warnings : slight smut so minors DNI.

you were a maneater, and your favorite type was momma's boy. in particular, the pogues because they were different.

you were the kind of woman everyone saw from miles away but also knew so well. you had a bad reputation. people talked a lot behind your back to say bad things but you didn't have time, either to listen, care or to respond.

oh no, you were way above these people. the attention you were looking for was not from them, but from the other side, from those who were not really rich, who were struggling to live and who lived without worrying about the consequences.

you were a maneater, so obviously there was a hungry beast in your heart and today, like every other day, the beast was hungry. the monster wanted to eat some man.

you weren't really a momma's girl, and you were hated by your boyfriends' mothers..you weren't good enough for their son. you were too mean, too vulgar, too honest. you were nothing like a daughter-in-law and yet, men dreamed of marrying you.

it wasn't a question of dream bodies, you had marks on your body, a little belly, peculiarities but you knew how to hide your insecurities. you had the attitude and the reputation.

you were like a jaguar, magnificent, confident and glorious.

today, you had a crush on a guy. pope heyward according to one of your friends. he was part of a group of pogues who were pretty well known for being troublemakers.

but him. this man, you knew he never did anything wrong. you knew he was a good boy who wanted to please his mother, and who easily fell in love with girls stronger than him.

you knew in advance that pope heyward was too nice. and that you were going to eat him so easily.

the heat was so hot. you wore a white top that barely hid the bottom of your tits, but showed off your belly piercing quite well. the sun made your precious toy sparkle. you had jewelry everywhere, strass on your teeth, dozens of rings on your fingers, more than five necklaces around your neck, and twenty bracelets around your arms. you had the money for, well, your daddy's money.

your jeans came down to your hips, exposing your black thong. physically, you couldn't be pope heyward’s type. everyone would have bet on it.

when he looked up, you met his gaze. you could sense that he was shyer than his blond friend next to him. because he, well his friend had smiled directly at you.

you had kindly ignored him because he wasn’t the one you wanted. no, you wanted the shy guy, the one who would never assume what you would make him feel.

“ hi pope ! “ you smiled.

"so rude of you to ignore me but so kook of you." said jj.

“ start by not making trouble with my friends the kooks.”

“ okay, so you'll stop sleeping with all my pogue friends.”

“ is it jealousy, jj? did you want your blow job too or you just a crybaby that much?”

the tension had started to rise and pope had cleared his throat.

" can i help you ? " he talked with a friendly voice.

"i don't know what to choose for an ice cream flavor.”

“ i can make you a personal cream if you want.”

“i don’t understand why you hate me so much jj but okay, i will just ignore you. ”

“i’'m going to smoke, pope. be careful with her.” he had placed a hand on his friend's shoulder before disappearing as if to warn him.

“don't pay attention to him. he's not mean, just a little too protective.”

“you look like you've been broken many times.”

"not really. girls don't really hang out with me.”

“they’re missing something.”

you looked at each other through the mirror window for a moment, not knowing what to say.

“are you flirting with me?”

“yes, pope heyward. i'm flirting with you.”

“ you don’t know me. "

“that’s why i want to know you. i know, i'm not your type. ”

“i don’t mean to be rude but you have a reputation as a maneater.”

“don't be a sheep who follows others people, pope. especially when you are different from the others. you are a smart person.”

“what flavors of ice cream do you want?”

“i want your favorite.”

you smiled. when you handed him the money to get your ice cream back, he politely refused.

“it’s on the house.”

“ i really want to pay. i’m a customer like any other.”

“if you want to pay so much, you can pay differently.”

" how ?"

" you can ask me out on a date? it will give you the opportunity to get to know me better."

“so smart of my boy. oh and don't tell jj about that. “

“ i don't want to lie to him. “

“ just don't tell him, pope. it's about us, only, okay ? “

“ okay. you're too pretty, i can't resist. “

“ you're the only pretty thing here. “

and that was how you started dating pope heyward.

you were a maneater so obviously pope had fallen really hard in love.

you were so different from all the girls he knew. when he was with you, he had this vital need to make you happy, to buy for you, to cut checks, to possess you, to be your only boy.

you had a strong energy, the kind that made you feel like you had it all and had it all under control. you were convincing and confident. you hated losing control. and perhaps that was the reason for your attraction to soft and naive boys.

pope's mother didn't like you. she hated when you went to their house, when you kissed her son, when you slept with him. she hated the idea of you two being together.

sometimes pope felt bad about it. he didn't want to disappoint anyone. but he couldn't be both your boy and his mother's boy.

once on a summer evening, you invited him to your place so that it was just the two of you. you showed him your room, your favorite things, your jewelry, your family photos, everything that mattered to you. then you put on some music.

he was lying there in the bed, shirtless with only his pants on, a cigarette in his lips, his eyes hanging on your moving body. he only looked at you, you were the only thing that existed.

you were beautiful. the frightening and majestic beauty of the jaguar. you moved so elegantly. you were in control of your body, you knew how to make it beautiful, how to make it so attractive.

jazz was coming out of the record player. you were in your underwear, enjoying the air coming in through the open window. you spun and spun as if the world had stopped.

you almost fell, but pope caught you in his arms.

"perfect. let's dance together, all night, momma's boy."

“don’t call me that.”

“isn’t that what you are?”

you laughed and he captured your laugh with his lips, kissing your mouth gently.

“i want to stay here forever.”

" where ? "

"in your arms. here. in my room. i just want you, pope. ”

you had started kissing every part of his face, placing wet kisses on his soft skin.

“i want you. and you want me too.”

“you know, we will have to take responsibility for our relationship.”

"i know, i know but not now. it's fun being a secret isn't it?”

you started to bite him gently, and he started to flee your small bites. this little thing had turned into a playful fight.

he had the advantage because he was on top of you, him catching every one of your thrusts. you managed to get out of his grip and rolled onto your side before getting on the bed.

he followed you, and you threw the first punch. right in the chest. he had subdued you quickly, still gently, his face right above yours.

“ where is the maneater who always wins, where is the maneater who destroys men? because i am beatin her ass right now.”

“ no, you're not. “

“ what?” you flipped him over with a smile, placing yourself on top of him.

“ you enjoy the game a little too much, pope. i'm fucking sitting on your boner and if you make a move pope heyward I'll destroy you. “

“ real queens do not destroy the throne they sit on. and if you want some child princess, take care of it. “

you had started to move slowly, gently rubbing your pussy over his bulge. you moved efficiently, enough to feel your boyfriend’s cock getting even harder against you.

you could tell he was big by the way you silently rose as his dick awoke.

this room, this sensuality, this warmth, was nothing without the music of marvin gaye.

a wet spot had appeared on his pants, and you used it to rub faster, to press your pussy harder against his erection. the sound of his grunts in sync with your moans.

he held your hands, and kissed them at the same time. he could cum now if you asked him. because you had a way of moving that made him so weak.

“ boys can't play and win. “

“ i think you're late my girl, i win since ive got a girl like you. “

his hands grabbed your thighs while you slipped harder.

“ ‘not going to cum now" he said before taking his length out of his boxers.

he rubbed the tip against your dripping pussy, you were so wet it almost dropped between your lips. he had spit in his hand, and started moving up and down on his cock, jerking off quickly

" what are you doing ? "

“you’re going to ride me, but with my cock deep inside you this time, girl.”

he had smacked your ass, letting it bounce against his palm before you pushed his cock into your pussy. hands on his abs, you began to move, riding him. the problem with this position is that you quickly started to get tired. all the power you had relegated to pope now. he understood the signal, doing the job for you with a smirk. he yanked his dick deeper into your walls, letting you feel every inch of his size. he loved your moans every time his hips hit yours.

the sound of your two bodies slapping together in the atmosphere like the noise of your golden belly chain against your skin. his movements were hard, tearing loud cries from you. you had tears in your eyes, whimpers of pleasure. he took you so well. he was a good boy who knew how to make you cry.

he was taller than you. the size kink was easily noticeable even more when his cock widened your tight hole. and also, when he started touching you, his hand covering your clit.

he had pinched it gently, teasing the little piece with his fingers. he had fun with it, tugging on it while thrusting wilder inside your body, your legs shaking on the mattress.

your hole was squeezing him and he loved how tight it was. he squeezed your clit as he sped up his movements.

"not a maneater anymore ?" he said with a smile "just a girl who wanted to be eaten by her man.”

“ oh shut up, pope heyward. “

“you're the only one making noise here baby.”

you kissed him to shut his mouth. he was right and you knew it. you knew pope loved your strass on your teeths. at first he found it weird and thought you were giving yourself a style but now he was crazy about it.

you were still a maneater but you had a boyfriend so it was different. and then, you were in love. you had learned what it was like to have a man who truly wanted you and loved you.

you were supposed to run away but you didn't want to leave him behind. the problem with nice guys was that they weren't bad. they never held a grudge against anyone, and did not get angry. pope panicked more than he got angry, for example.

when he released his cum deep inside you, you came with him. you looked at him. there was more sweat on his body. he was breathing faster.

you could tell he was proud. and he could be.

you loved every single moment with pope. he was a good boyfriend. he was intelligent, studious, kind and friendly. he worked at school, after classes.

so what you loved was when he broke the rules for you. you used to go and throw stones at his window in the evening to get him to go out. you went surfing in the dark night, bathing in the midnight moon, in calm, cold water, or you went rollerblading at a club because it was fun and the perfect place for couples.

you also spent time in bookstores. it wasn’t your thing but you loved the moment when he told you about the book he was choosing. he would start talking for hours, navigating between the shelves. you followed him and listened to him.

"sometimes, i really feel dumb. " you said.

" you don't understand anything, right ? "

" yes. i'm sorry. but i like it actually. you're pope, the smart boy, the nerdy guy, the master brain and i just love being your girlfriend but it's so new to me. i can't fully understand."

" you're not bored ? "

" never. i can't be bored when my boyfriend is so intelligent. never. what was the book already ?"

" see ? you don't want to listen to that. "

"it's just new to me. be patient and you will be the only one to get bored. "

" deal ? "

" deal. "

and you also confessed your relationship to the pogues. jj pretended to be surprised but was nice to you.

"don't break his heart, okay? he forgive everything, but not me. "

" don’t worry, i will not hurt your boyfriend. "

he turned to Pope, ignoring your bullshit words.

“you know man, i always wondered what the strass felt like while she sucks your cock.”

" JJ. "

"What? I was just asking!”

the end bc i really want to kick my ass. this is not that good. at least, i tried something 💀💀 i will work harder. i just tag @rafecameroninterlude et @oceandriveab . i'm sorry for the expectations 🫠

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ruewrote · 1 year

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𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑑.

PAIRING: jj maybank x fem!reader WARNINGS: none GENRE: fluff, f2? SONG INSPIRATION: just cant get enough by black eyed peas WORD COUNT: 868

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you never had much money. living as a pogue proved that, but you didn't care.

you didn't keep up with the latest cosmopolitan since you were out surfing instead.

getting dirty looks from kooks as they judged your worn-out tops to your ripped vans, but you had no shame about it. holding your head high as they whispered behind you.

from time to time you wondered how it'd be to live big and fancy, but wouldn't trade what you had with your friends for anything else.

from the lazy hangouts at the chateau to the risky adventures, the bond that pogues had was unmatched. they were your family.

so when you started your new job working at the kooks country club you wanted to show your gratitude and bought each of them small gifts.

a golden turtle broch for kiera, an expensive pair of trainers for pope, and so on and so forth.

everyone was hyped about their gifts, you received many hugs and thanks but not jj. he sat on the sofa, rolling the black marble ring that you had gotten for him between his fingers.

an appreciative smile displayed on your lips, standing up and walking over to you, interrupting the conversation that you were having with sarah. giving you a knowing nod, she sat on john b's lap across the room, her arm around his neck, his hand on her waist.

"is everything okay?" concerned as jj sat beside you, his knee knocking into your own whilst doing so.

"i cant accept this." that made you frown and your brow furrow.

"of course you can, i wanted to spoil you a little. it's well overdue from all of the times that you've either paid for my food or i've stolen yours." playfully nudging his arm with yours, jj still didn't look convinced.

"you deserve this. as much as you're talking yourself out of it, it's true. its about time you got some well-deserved appreciation." you persisted, nudging the ring gently back to his chest.

still looks doubtful you made a promise.

"okay fine if you take this, this one time, no more expensive presents. only because i have one to match." lifting your hand gesturing to your pinky, slipping his on, and wrapping his finger around your own.

"promise?"

"promise."

you stuck to what you said to jj, you hadn't bought him a single expensive item, maybe treated him to dinner from time only after arguing back and forth about it, it ending in him giving in.

you had also made it your life's goal to make him gifts, whether it be finding pretty shells on the beach or decorated notes of appreciation.

yeah, it might've been insignificant to anyone else, but you felt a sense of pride when you watched his face light up at the silly little homemade trinkets.

from then on it just became a random thing you did for him even if you didn't get the others anything.

both of you agreed for him to sleep at your house since his dad was not having a... particularly good day and obviously not wanting him to be at the receiving end of it, he crashed at yours. this happened often enough that your parents let him stay over as long as the door was open.

so now you stood over the stove, stirring the pasta that was bubbling for the mac and cheese that you were making. jj making it ten times harder as he started doing stuff to distract you like eating the pre-grated cheese.

your hand slapping his wrist as he yet again went to reach his fingers into the bowl.

"i swear to god if i have to tell you again jay!" he giggled and ran out of the kitchen as you grabbed the cloth off of the side, following not far behind him.

after a while of chasing each other around the house, you finally cornered him in the living room, trying to whip the material.

unfortunately for you, he managed to snatch it out of your hands, wrapping his arms around your body and falling onto the couch on top of you so you couldn't do anything.

"let go of me!" wriggling around to find a way out.

"why would i do that when i know what the outcome will be? hey im dumb but im not that dumb."

letting out a huff, you relaxed into his arms knowing there wouldn't be any way of getting him to budge. he overpowered you every time.

"ugh fuck you dude!"

"you wish sweetheart!" jj winked at you, it wasn't until then that you realized the position you two were in.

he laid on top of you, in between your legs. faces two inches apart. your mouth went dry, looking at him was an even bigger mistake because when his eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes... you melted.

jj leaned in closer, your lips nearly touching when the smoke alarm goes off.

"shit the food!" you both dashed to the kitchen, turning off the fire, and making sure everything was fine. it was. laughing relieved.

you both wished deep down that the alarm had never gone off.

528 notes · View notes

infernalodie · 1 year

Note

hello! could we maybe get some more sarah cameron where the reader is a bit of a hardass, but has a soft spot for sarah — and maybe jj & kiara? the reader is pope’s older brother, so he’s always on pope’s ass for something he did or whatever 🤷. reader is always getting into it with john b because (you can make up whatever) so he steers clear of him, but has to hang out with him during the pogue parties and whatnot. sarah sees the tension, so she’s a buffer and always know ways to calm the reader’s mind - even just glancing to the reader would subdue him for now.

been loving the writing! hope you’re doing alright and staying safe!

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 || 𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

"𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐'𝘮 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯' 𝘪𝘵, 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯' 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘐'𝘮 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯' 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯' 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘳"

Inspo: Russ - ALL TO YOU Keshi - UNDERSTAND

Pairing: Sarah Cameron x Black!Male!reader

Summary: She completed your character...

Warnings: Angst, Haphephobia, fluff, soft smut, bot!reader, top!Sarah Cameron, praise kink, and some fluff.

Words: 5311

DNI IF YOU'RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

When Sarah first saw you, she knew that you weren’t like the Pogues at all.

Being the big brother to Pope, you picked up the slack where he fumbled. It had begun to almost become a job for you whenever they showed up at the shop. Scooping Pope up from doing his chores, leaving you yelling and threatening your brother of the consequences.

“Oh, I hope to God that you aren’t about to leave all this shit to me and Dad!” You followed your brother down the dock, hot on your little brother’s heels. Able to spot the HMS Pogue at the end with the same group all occupying the vessel. “Show some damn respect and turn to me when I’m talking to you!

“I promise you I’ll pick up your chores next week,” Pope promised half-heartedly over his shoulder. “There’s this thing going on in Figure Eight. I need to go-”

Before he could continue or step onto the boat, Pope’s arm was grasped and he was yanked away. Forcefully turned to face you and he could finally see the annoyance written on your expression. But to be fair, when weren’t you angry at him? There seemed to be always something for you to be pissed about when it related to him. And having to be put under it since his return home wasn’t exactly the “welcome home” surprise he thought he would get.

“You think I give a shit about what is going on over there?” You barked. “You threw away your scholarship for doing this shit.” You slapped his chest harshly, eliciting a grunt from the young man, rubbing the spot tenderly. “So, you can earn your keep by doing what is asked of you. First: clean this dock.”

Pope pursed his lips. “I have to go-”

Once again, you interrupted him, but you didn’t speak. Grabbing his collar was enough to send the message for him to shut up. But it made the occupiers of the boat finally step in. “Yo, Y/n! Hey, man. You want a sip?” JJ lifted a beer, wiggling it in his grasp as if it would hypnotize you and force you to just forget what made you angry in the first place.

Sparing a glance, you looked back at your brother and let him go. Step toward the blonde and grab the drink and twist the cap off with the assistance of your calloused palms. “What are you guys doing down there anyway? You know people are still pissy about what happened.”

When they got back, they were welcomed back with open arms for discovering the mystery of the treasure. But Kooks still looked down on them and were even jealous. So, your brother's protection was priority number 1. Behind him was him earning his room back after leaving OBX and going missing for so long.

“But when has that ever stopped us?” Kiara questioned, smiling up at you from her spot beside JJ. “I mean, you know us. When have we ever listened to what’s in our best interest?”

You snickered, glancing between the pair. Noticing their interlocked hands. Glancing amongst the other teens, you took notice of Pope’s girlfriend, Kleo. Sweet girl. One that could keep Pope in line when you weren’t there to it yourself. Then Sarah Cameron, who hadn’t removed her eyes from you since she saw you. And you couldn’t quite decipher if she was judging you or something else.

Back when you were their age, you had your own run-ins with the Camerons. Rafe was primarily being a pain in your ass, but Ward was as much of an asshole as his deluded son. So, some part of you had been skeptical when Sarah joined the Pogues. Yet, you knew she was just as responsible as the two other girls.

Then there was John B. A thorn in your side since Pope met him. Pulling each member into problems they didn’t need to get into. The treasure, the mystery of Big John somehow being alive, Ward Cameron–There were too many reasons for you to hate him. And you weren’t afraid of letting it be known to everyone.

For two Pogues from the Cut to hate each other was a very rare occurrence. Rarely did people go to parties and end up witnessing two kids from around the same neighbourhood seeking to kill each other. But for you and John B, there was bad blood. Too much to even keep count.

“John B.”

“Y/n.”

You sipped your drink, staring at the boy. You allowed the tension to build, swallowing the liquid with a hum, and smacking your lips. “I’m guessing you’re pulling them all into this one?”

He forced a smile, leaning against the helm with a smug look on his face as he waved his hand. “They all came willingly,” he countered. “I don’t need to strong-arm them like you do with Pope.”

A deep chuckle fell from your lips as you stared down at your drink. Pope wanted to speak up. He wanted to de-escalate the situation from becoming a full-out brawl that would enable his father to step out and break it up. But he knew better than to step in your path when it came to this rivalry you had with John B. Everyone knew that.

Sniffling softly, you looked up at the boy for a long moment before you tossed the glass bottle at him. It caused everyone to sigh, stepping out of the path with Sarah glancing around in confusion. The looks on their faces; annoyance. It seemed like they knew the drill when it came to something like this except for her.

Sure, she knew had heard faint conversations relating to your existence. You were a hothead. Quick to jump the gun if your mind wasn’t fixated on something. It resulted in you getting expelled from school and being sent to juvie for 7 months. But from what Kiara told her, it just seemed to make your outbursts more regular than normal.

But her cluelessness and lack of just letting two guys fight it out showed when John B grabbed the bottle and pulled his arm back, making her jump up into action. “John B, stop!” But before she could restrict his arm, he whipped it at you. You raised your arm, the bottle coincidentally hitting your watch, causing the bottle to shatter. Glass shards delving deep into your coffee bean-toned skin. Sarah stared at the injuries in shock, face twisting in anger as she turned her eyes toward John B. “What the fuck, John B?”

Despite the injuries and the faint pinch of pain, you growled in annoyance. “Well, I’ll tell you what, JB.” You scanned your arm, plucking the tiny shards from your skin, plucking them out with a grunt. “I’m surprised your Dad didn’t teach you how to fight before he died. Raised a real brat.”

That was enough for John B to finally move from the helm. Damn near launching himself off the boat at you. But Sarah and JJ were quick to stop him, restraining him and pulling back.

Whenever it came to either you or John B, insults were almost limitless. He insulted your inability to get into the military because of your mental issues. And you weren’t afraid to mention that maybe his mother, who abandoned him, would’ve done better than his pitiful excuse of a father. Usually, a group of guys could joke like that and know there wasn’t anything malicious. But John B had enough reasons to hate you and you felt the same for him. There wasn’t any room for respect to be held for you two.

And everyone in the group was used to it now. From the countless bickering matches to the fist fights that have occurred. They genuinely had lost all hope of stopping either of you. Sarah, this being her first time experiencing it, was so lost and bewildered by such childish emotions.

Clearing your voice, you glanced at her for a moment. It had only been a moment. But it felt a whole lot longer than that. She could see the e/c in your eyes that glowed brightly under the warm glow of the sun. The faint bristles of facial hair rose from your jaw and a scar that ran over the right side of your top and bottom lip. It was narrow like a blade had glided over the plump mounds. It suited you.

“Sarah, can I talk to you for a moment?” Her being called upon made her blink a few times. Shaking from her daze, glancing at Kiara who understood and took her place in holding John B back. Whispering hushed words in an attempt to calm her friend down.

Hopping off the boat, she walked to where you stood by your brother, hands on your hips. It broadened your shoulders and made you stand taller and wider in the stance. “I need you to keep an eye on this little shit, alright-”

“I’m not a child, man!” Pope whined, slapping your finger that was pressed to his forehead.

“Bullshit!” You laughed. “I’m not letting you go missing again. In return, I’ll take up your offer. All my chores are yours next week. I don’t care if pissy pants over there needs you, you do my shit. Or your ass is 6 feet underneath.” Pope pursed his lips, seeming to contemplate whether the decision was good. It made you flick his ear, making him yelp, groaning in pain. “Got it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah.” Pope waved you off, stepping onto the HMS Pogue and taking his spot beside Kleo.

Which left you to look down at Sarah. “Keep him, Kiara, JJ, and Kleo out of trouble, alright? I don’t know if you are dating John B still, but I don’t trust him after everything,” you explained, huffing a breath with your hands finding their places on your hips.

Yet, through the simple request, she couldn’t help but think of your well-being. “Are you alright?” She motioned toward the wounds on your arm, slowly leaking droplets of blood that seeped through the cracks of your skin.

She attempted to reach out, fingertips just barely brushing against your skin before you recoiled. You clenched your jaw, Adam’s apple bobbing as you kept her gaze. “Just keep an eye on them, alright?” As you were about to make your way back to the shop, you stopped short and turned to her. Leaning down and whisper, “And it isn’t nice to stare, Sarah Cameron.”

And she wasn’t given a chance to respond or make up an excuse because you were already marching up the dock toward the shop. Likely to pick up the work Pope left for you.

That was the first encounter Sarah had with you. But as more time went by and the more the two of you interacted with one another, she learned more about what type of person you were. You were an easily aggravated person. In certain cases, she found it adorable. Especially when she scolded you, hearing you grumble in annoyance, but follow her order.

Your presence and attendance at parties became more common than the occasional task of keeping an eye on your brother, an order given by your parents. You came voluntarily but spent most of your time sitting with Kiara and JJ, sharing some quiet hushed talk. Those were the only moments Sarah saw you smile. Where you finally showed a side of you that she wasn’t entirely used to.

Tonight, that was no different. The Boneyard was filled with kids from either side of the island. You were leaning against a log, listening to some conversation happening with some guys that you guessed were some of your friends. They all looked to be around your age, same work-worn expressions from hard labour. Yet, out of all of them, they didn’t look as good as you.

In the few months of you accompanying the group, she had developed some sort of crush on you. The moments when you were too busy messing around with JJ, she liked to just stare. Take in the beauty that you were given. From the hardened features of your face, the glow of your skin under the sun and campfire, to the minor ticks you had. Like, when you were listening intently to a conversation, your lips parted and your tongue peeked out from between slightly. Or how you sometimes covered your mouth when you laughed. As if someone would judge how you looked when you showed such emotion.

These little things set you apart from any of the other guys she had encountered. When no one was paying attention, you were present. You looked up at the birds that flew past. You gave people you cared about the attention you wanted in return. You went to lengths to just chek in on someone. And she would know considering she saw you breaking down Kiara’s door to just ask if she felt alright when she was sick. Although that last one was a bit alarming, it showed a side of you that she wasn’t sure John B ever could consider.

And even now, being around people she knew you wouldn’t talk to in a normal setting, you gave them your attention. It was surprising to her.

“Are you just going to stare at him or actually make a move?” Kleo’s voice scared Sarah, eliciting a yelp of surprise from the girl.

“What the hell, Kleo?” Sarah said in exasperation. “You could’ve given me a heart attack.”

But the girl didn’t seem to show any type of remorse, nodding in your direction. “You going to do it or dance around it all day?”

Sarah swallowed the lump in her throat and looked toward you. Still in the depths of conversing with your friends. A faint smile presses to your lips as you lift your bottle of beer to your lips.

“Has he always been like that?” She inquired, glancing at her friend. “Like, any of the times you’ve had dinner with his and Pope’s parents?” She iterated.

Kleo stood there for a second, crossing her arms over her chest. The look of thought crossing over her face was apparent to Sarah. But when Kleo reach a response, she shrugged. “He was like this before Pope and I ever got together or even before you appeared in the Pogue's lives,” she responded, looking at the blonde. “Pope’s told me a lot about Y/n and his problems and I don’t blame him for being so damn hostile with John B, who in my opinion is completely deserving of it.”

That created more intrigue for Sarah who was already invested in whatever you gave away. When she first met you, she wanted to know more about your process in the military. But judging by John B using it as something to spit out at you, she guessed it was a sensitive topic. Or your repulsion from touch. You hated it. Even when Pope tried to do something brotherly to tease you like wrap his around your shoulders, you shoved him away willingly.

There were just a lot of question marks that surrounded you that Sarah wanted to pluck from the ground to get closer to you.

A commotion pulled Sarah from her thoughts. Spotting you standing behind a few of your friends with John B spouting out incoherent insults. But whatever he was saying was pissing you. Face twisting in anger as you tried to move around the growing crowd. Your entire goal was to attack John B who could barely stand on his own two feet.

It pulled a groan from Sarah’s chest. “Y/n!” Her voice made you snap your head up, looking in her direction. She raised a brow, lips slowly morphing into a smile. For a second, it made you release the tension in your arms. Allowing yourself to step back and try to exit the altercation and move in her direction.

But John B being drunk had to spout something that finally broke the restraint in you.

“Yeah, go to Sarah! We all know you need my ex to come save you, pussy!”

And you didn’t know if it was simply the fact that your ego was hit or that John B was so clueless, but you exploded. Sprinting and shoving people to try and get at the arrogant little shit. There were so many voices that it became just a jumbled scramble to try and stop you from killing the drunk Pogue.

But it was only Sarah appearing, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you away. And it was the shock that made it so easy for her to pull you back. It was the shock that allowed her to grab you by the hand and march you in the direction of where the vehicles were parked.

Listen, you were used to Sarah. Her voice, her presence, her energy- all of it! But her touch was something you weren’t accustomed to. It was a brief jumpstart to your heart that you hadn’t even believed you needed. But it got your blood flowing. It made you feel something other than the countless emotions flowing through his system. All of them aided by the consumption of alcohol. Yet, her soft hands seemed to melt through the fabric of your shirt and heat your body up. Its scalding warmth brought you down to reality and placed you in the present where you willingly held her hand and allowed her to guide you back to your car.

This wasn’t normal in any certain circumstance. You broke a kid’s arm in juvie for even grazing you with his finger. But she didn’t care. Then again, maybe it was just the morals and expectations of man that prevented you from reacting how you usually would. But you felt safe under her touch.

By the time the two of you got back to your Jeep, you had broken the physical contact and followed behind her a few steps. Wordlessly understanding that she might’ve stopped liking the party and silently requested you to take her home.

“Let’s go back to the Chateau,” she answered, discrediting your prior assumption. But you followed her order obediently. Putting the vehicle in drive and pulling from the make-shift parking lot made of dirt and sand.

The drive was slow and quiet. With the roof off and doors taken off, the wind nipped through the air and froze exposed pieces of skin. Yet, the stereo playing Frank Ocean, the moon hung high and gave a semblance of comfort amidst the disorder, it was perfect. And feeling Sarah’s eyes carefully take in your features, that familiar fuzziness in your chest formed bigger.

It was a tangle. Mixed emotions to mixed communication. You didn’t know what to think. You knew how you felt, but what did that mean to her? Did she share the same fondness and genuine attraction you had for her?

Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the constant thoughts. Or maybe it was you taking in reality for once. But you wiped your eyes, allowing the consoling strings of White Ferrari to take your mind elsewhere. Somewhere you allowed your imagination to run free with fantasies that felt more and more hypothetical.

Arriving at the Chateau, the two of you hopped out of the vehicle and made your way to the house. Sarah followed behind you, quietly wondering how you seemed to know your way around the premises. And when the two of you stepped on the deck, shutting the screen door, you motioned for her to take a seat on the couch out front. She listened, letting her gaze follow you through the window as you stepped over the garbage until you reached the fridge, grabbing two beers.

“I can’t understand how you even dated him,” was the first thing that slipped past your lips when you came back outside. Sarah’s face twisted in confusion and you collapsed in the open spot beside her. “What I mean is, you’re a rich girl. Hanging out with an arrogant, annoying, slimy, egotistical-”

“All right. All right, I get it.” She laughed. “But I dated him because I liked him. I guess as time went on, I realized that I dated him based on the fact that we were in the same situation and always together.”

You hummed. “So, you just kinda forced yourself into it? Seems kinda disingenuous.”

That earned a swift slap from Sarah, who blushed. But the action made you flinch, shifting away slightly. Sarah’s smile slightly faltered as she pointed at you. “That.”

Her one-word reply made you frown. “What?”

“That! What is that? Why don’t you like being touched?” She questioned.

No one had really asked you that. Truthfully, most people weren’t able to get close enough to pick up on your phobia. That or you hid it pretty well by fighting people. And although you can touch people, feeling other people touch you sent chills down your spine. Like a brand pressing to your skin and leaving their mark forever.

You’ve hated it since you were born.

Biting your bottom lip, you exhaled heavily. Head bowed slightly with a gentle sway of your body. “It’s called Haphephobia,” you muttered. “I-I can’t stand human touch.” You clenched your jaw, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I have no problem hurting someone, but anything else outside of that intention is impossible. I can’t hug my parents or brother. I can’t be intimate. I can’t comfort anyone. I-I can’t be normal.”

Sarah was quiet for a few moments, allowing the confession to sink in. Until she lifted her gaze from her beer to you. “Is that why you couldn’t do the army?”

That made you laugh, shaking your head. “Uh, no. That was actually just my psych evaluation. A lot goes on in my head and they didn’t see it as a chance they wanted to take,” you explained with a bittersweet tone.

You did seem a bit preoccupied in your thoughts a lot of the times you have spent with her and the pogues. Drifting off into open space along the bow of the HMS Pogue. Or sitting out on the dock at The Wreck. Staring out at the barely noticeable coastline in Figure Eight. But you also looked at peace when those intrinsic trances passed over. And if it was the opposite, you didn’t give anything away.

She shifted closer to you. The movement was obscured by the constant thoughts racing through your buffering mind. From exhaustion to the consumption of alcohol, it became harder to focus on your surroundings.

But it was until you felt her hand press to your chest. It made you flinch, looking down at the placement and attempting to shift away. “Sarah-”

“I’m never going to hurt you, Y/n,” she reassured gently. You believed her, but the touch was warm. Much like before, you enjoyed it, but it was intensified now. Maybe from the toxins you’ve put in your body tonight, but it fell under too much. “I want to be able to hold you.” Her hand smoothly and slowly went down to your stomach, able to feel the divots of muscle beneath the shirt. She wished she could say she was also intoxicated and she wasn’t thinking clearly, but she was. It was solely desire flaring her thoughts and dictating her actions. Yet, it was pure. “To touch you.”

You tilted your head, eyes clamping shut in hopes that your uncomfortable expression would be enough to get the message across. But she didn’t. Her hand went further down until she snuck underneath your shirt. It felt oddly comforting once your mind began to slow and your body became accustomed to her. And once that happened, you were melting beneath her.

Her smooth palms meeting your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and when she added her other hand, the feeling grew. “Sarah, stop- Fuck!” You breathed in exasperation, a muffled moan slipping past your lips when your nipples slipped between her fingers. The slight squeeze made a chill run down your spine. Face growing hot as you avert your gaze to the side, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

She smiled, damn near pressing her chest to yours, chuckling softly. Her hands moved across the expanse of your chest, soaking up every little detail of your sable-toned body. “But seeing you like this, God, I want to ruin you.”

It was all too much. Her words. The intention of them. Her touch. Burning into flesh and marking you for life. And the way her right hand drifted further down, breaking past the hem of your shorts, everything was on fire.

When her hand wrapped around your hardened cock, you let out a sound. One that you never thought possible for yourself. And undoubtedly, you tried to brush past it with a cough. But you should’ve known better than for Sarah Cameron to leave it at that. She tilted her head, lips curving into a grin, wrist slowly flicking to stroke.

“Did you whimper, baby?” Sarah teased, eyes half-lidded with their focus placed on your very own. Content on watching them part and tremble faintly as you tried to hold back the noises from slipping past your lips.

“Shut up,” you panted, hands gripping the couch for dear life. Sarah found it all too adorable that you, a strong, tall, intimidating guy were crumbling under her touch. Even though it inflated her ego it turned her on. How much more could she could before you finish? Would she be able to hear you whisper out her name?”

She had control. You were falling apart in her hands. And she was going to take full advantage of it.

Time was lost upon the first hour. Had it been an hour? It was hard to tell at this point. With your arms bound above your head, mouth gagged by Sarah’s panties, and her pussy hugging your abused cock. It all numbed your thoughts.

All you could focus on was the girl hovering over you. Hands sprawled across your stomach. Applying enough to keep her stable as she bounced on your cock. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth with her gaze unwavering.

She’d wanted to ruin you after all and she was succeeding.

Through moans, Sarah managed to pant out, “You look so fucking good like this, Y/n. Everything I imagined.”

Strands of her hair fell in front of her eyes, but it did not hide the predatory nature that took hold of her. A completely different look on her. It made you wonder how many people have seen this side of her. Or if anyone had given her this much control. Either way, this felt oddly intimate. Maybe a bit special. But after all, this is your first time and you can’t figure out how many times she’s replaced a condom to only put a new one on.

She was using you as she wished and something in you enjoyed it.

You felt loved. Not that you hadn’t felt it before but this was different. Vastly different from your parents or your brother showing their appreciation. But this was with someone you never imagined being this close with. She was under your skin in every pleasing way possible.

And you loved it.

Her velvety walls fluttered around you, squeezing with each drop of her body. Moans flourished from her lips and filled the living room of the Chateau. Despite the possessive nature she had, she was still soft in her touch. Careful to show you no harm, just as she promised. And you melted beneath her. Whatever hold you had before being tied down is now lost with groans and whimpers falling from your own lips.

Sarah couldn’t help but smile.

Her hands slowly moved up your stomach, past your chest and finally your cheeks. You exhaled shakily, uneven gaze meeting her passionate one. Two polar opposites in the act of intimacy, tet, both present. “You are beautiful, Y/n.”

And for the first time, you initiated the kiss. Lifting your head to press your lips to hers, tilting your in an attempt to deepen it. The only experience you had was the brief kisses Sarah shared with you after she tied you. Teasing you till you were panting. So, you tried to replicate it and understandably, Sarah was amused.

She rocked her hips gently, keeping her lips pressed against yours. Swallowing your moans greedily. Able to feel your cock twitch inside of her, signalling a familiar release A release she craved every time she experienced it.

But when you did, she parted, allowing you to catch your breath. Hovering over you, watching a sweat droplet slide from your hairline and down your temple. Carefully, she sat up just enough for you to slip out of her. You hissed, sensitive and she was quick to comfort you with delicate kisses across your cheek.

Cleaning you up and untying you, Sarah soon lay sprawled across your chest. A thin blanket keeping the two of you covered with body warmth is the main source of comfort. She listened to your heartbeat against your chest. Its tempo became a slow constance that she relied on to allow exhaustion to take hold.

“I don’t want to be another John B, Sarah.”

It was the first time she’d heard your voice in the past few hours. The wavering of each word had her looking up, finding your tired gaze focused on the ceiling. Unable to meet her own which was full of confusion.

“I don’t want to be something you force yourself into,” you whispered, scared to even think that after all this time, she was just wanting sex. “And if it is something like that, then tell me so I can go home.”

Sarah could see the fear in your eyes. How you blinked rapidly, hoping it hid the emotion you never dared to show. The first inkling that there was something deep within you that wished to flourish. An ulterior presence that could rival your usual disposition. It seemed like that’s what you hoped the military could give, but once that fell through you kinda gave up. Bidding farewell to the idea of completion for yourself.

But ever since you started spending quality time with the Pogues, there was something that shifted inside you. A sense of belonging almost. Sarah had seen it first-hand and it was beautiful. She found it with the Pogues, much like you seemed to have. Besides John B, you loved each member of the group.

Sitting up slightly, Sarah softly traced shapes into your chest. It drew your attention from the ceiling to follow her finger.“You’re the first guy that feels genuine with me. You’ve expressed yourself more than Topper and John B ever have,” Sarah said. “It’s all I ever wanted from someone who I date.”

Clearing her throat, she sniffled. “I guess what I’m saying is that for the first time in any of my relationships, I don’t feel like there is something internal fighting for what I think is right for me,” she explained. “And I think I finally found someone that I could share years with.”

The confession was followed by pressing her lips to your chest before laying her head on your chest. “I want everything and more with you, Y/n.”

Love.

That was the feeling you have been feeling. An unconditional, unmoving, everlasting love. Because love wasn’t a choice. It’s the feeling. A force only you can describe as it is unique. Like a memory only you can think back on and know from your perspective.

And you felt it the moment you saw Sarah Cameron.

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