Outerbanks Imagine - Blog Posts

don’t you wish

request: ur writing is so good i love ur fics :’) can u do a confessing feelings kiss with jj summary: jj is really upset you’re going to college. you hold him before you go. pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 1.4k warnings: sadness, fluff, reader getting ready for college a/n: this was really sweet to write. thank you for the request! keep em coming yall! Slowly but surely i will get to them all :) big love.

You didn’t want to chase him. He was being dramatic.

It would have been so much easier to let him go. To let him storm off.

But having that be the last time you see him before going off to college for the rest of the year? Not happening.

“Jay,” you call out, chasing him out the back door to John B.’s place. He wouldn’t care if you two were there when he was at work.

“Just fuck off. Go get ready.”

“I don’t want to leave you like this,” you say, and he stops.

“If you didn’t want to leave, you wouldn’t. You obviously want to go.”

“I have to go to college. What am I gonna do if I stay here? Mow lawns for kooks for the rest of my life, JJ—”

“The fuck is wrong with that? That’s probably what’s gonna happen to me! So what’s so bad about that—”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

“What’s so bad about staying together, huh? What’s so bad about being with your friends?”

“We’re teenagers, JJ! Do you really think…” You shouldn’t say what you’re thinking, not out loud.

“Think what?

You avoid his gaze. He’s fuming, hard lips and flared nostrils and really, really red ears.

“You think we’re gonna stay together for the rest of our lives, JJ?” You whisper.

You look up at him with sad eyes.

He shakes his head, a sad grin on his face.

“Wow. Alright. Tell me how you really feel—”

“No, you know what I’m saying,” you say, stepping closer to him.

“If you’re saying that you don’t think we could make it, you don’t think we could be friends for the rest of our lives just because you’re moving away to your fancy college, yeah. I do know what you’re saying. And I—I don’t fucking agree.”

“Don’t do this, JJ…”

Your shoulders feel heavy. There’s a knot in your stomach.

“Fuck, don’t you get it?”

“Obviously not, JJ! So why don’t you just tell me about it, instead of—”

“—You’re all I fucking have! I love you! Okay?” He turns from you with fervor and runs his hands through his hair before bringing them to rest on his hips, letting out a sigh and bringing eyes to the sky like he was asking for a reason this all was happening.

“JJ,” you say softly, “you know I love you too.”

He lets out a humorless laugh.

“And you know we can’t, because of—”

“—No pogue on pogue, right, and I don’t want to be the one who messes this up, because I fuckin’ mess everything up! God, dammit!”

You don’t know what to say. He’s so frustrated he collides his foot with a tree, bark flaking off the old oak, with it’s long curly limbs, having been around since you became friends. You used to climb that tree all the time, sit under that tree, sheltering yourselves from the hundred degree weather, talking about how you would build a tree-house with your own bare hands, just the five of you—The Pogues.

How your heart aches for a simpler time, where summer meant tubes of flavored ice and endless cartoons and learning to swim under the hot North Carolinian sun. Where summer didn’t mean you packing up your things and applying to colleges and trying to spend time with your friends who were always busy with jobs or scholarships, supporting themselves full time at sixteen years old. It hurt. Your face stings with unshed tears and you don’t want this to be the last time you see JJ. The last memory you make with him before you go off to some fancy college up North and never come back to the Outer Banks.

You come up from behind him and wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his back. He doesn’t know whether to pull away or lean into it, so he tenses up under your touch.

“You’re the one I go to, man…” he whimpers.

You hold him a little bit tighter.

“You… you help me out. You’re the one who… what am I gonna do without you?”

You two listen to the birds in the trees and feel the warmth of each other.

You pull away after a minute, and your eyes dart around the place before you meet him. His eyes are glossy and dangerously full.

“I don’t want you to leave us,” he mumbles, and his face scrunches up like he’s trying not to cry, but a single perfect tear runs down his cheek. He goes to wipe it away with the back of his hand, but you beat him to it.

He sniffs loudly, hands by his side as you caress his cheeks with your thumbs, wiping away tears and as soon as his eyes become too intense, the sadness there palpable in the atmosphere, you rest your forehead on his cheek, and he cries.

You can’t help but plant soft, inaudible kisses to his face, where the tears are. You bury your nose into his neck and feel your own tears, hot on your cheeks, soak into his shirt.

You pull back to rest your forehead against his, and he leans into you, making it easier.

But he keeps leaning in. And keeps leaning in. Until there’s nowhere else to go, but you don’t really want to be anywhere else and his lips are so close and he smells like honey and boy cologne and mint so you close your eyes and kiss him.

His lips are salty from the tears, but there are nerves in your lips you’ve never felt before. JJ cups your face and you cup his and he’s crying and you’re crying and you never want the kiss to end.

There’s pressure and warmth and butterflies that are landing and taking off in your stomach because this is JJ, your JJ, the same JJ you grew up with and teased and cried to and laughed with. The boy you love more than anything. The boy you would do anything for.

You wish you could preserve the memory of kissing JJ, his skin wet and lips raw from all the biting he does to them.

It’s hard to pull away from him, knowing it would be the last time. You rest your head on his shoulder and he holds you tighter than he’s ever held you before in his life. Harder than the time you broke your arm riding his bike. Harder than the first time his dad hit him. Harder than when you came back from your first vacation away from him. Harder than the time you had your first breakup. Harder than the time you found out you had gotten into the college of your dreams.

You count down from 10 in your head, and when you reach zero, it’s over. He lets out a shaky breath and wipes the remaining tears from his face before he shoves his hands into his pockets.

You both smile sadly, you down at his shoes, but he’s smiling at you, his eyes glossy. He wants to never forget this moment between you two. He can only hope you’ll come back for him, come back for your childhood friends. Your home. Your boys (and girl).

“I guess this is it,” he says, finally.

You try to look him in the eye, but you notice something.

There’s a single eyelash on his cheek.

“Wait,” you say, and pick it up for him.

“Make a wish,” you encourage, holding it in front of his face.

He looks between you and the eyelash.

Usually he doesn’t believe in that type of thing.

Though instead of his usual protest, he surprises you.

He closes his eyes, and makes his wish, blowing the eyelash off your thumb.

He opens his eyes, smiling.

“D’you know... do you want to know what I wished for?” He asks. He pulls you into his chest and tears start to well up in your eyes again.

“No,” you laugh, sniffling, “Then it won’t come true, dummy.”

“I don’t care if it comes true or not… I know it’s going to come true.”

“I don’t want to know your wish!” You cry into his shoulder. You feel him shudder with laughter.

He traces patterns on your back, his head resting on your shoulder, his ear pressed up against yours, his clean shaven face pressing into your jaw.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, JJ.”

eye of the storm

request: Hi! Can you do an imagine where the reader is surfing with John B en JJ on a stormy night and she gets hurts/almost drowns?

summary: john b., reader, and jj go surfing during agatha. they get hurt and the boys fuss and care for them. 

pairings: jj x reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: near death experience, near drowning, large cuts

a/n: no super huge romance, just some friendly post trauma kisses. nothin gay about kissin your homies. big love

You shouldn’t have gone with them in the first place, but by the time you realized the tides were too rough for you, for anyone, it was too late.

The waves were frothy white, loud, and gorgeous. It was impossible not to feel tempted by them, by mother nature’s intense beauty. They surged high, rolling in on themselves before pushing in as far as they could onto the beach.

At first, you weren’t going to go in. You were going to stand around, watching them in the cold rain, making sure they didn’t drown or get hurt. It was stupid, you thought, as they blared music in the van, harsh winds and pelting rains sounding loudly against the metal, almost pushing John B. off the road a few times.

But the crash of the waves and the peaks of the crests, the strong pulling of the tide at your bare, sandy feet were too much for you. It courses adrenaline through your veins at an unfiltered rate. The sides of the beach were blown out, so you’d have to stay in the middle. You’d be able to live with that.

As JJ and John B. paddled out into the water, you retreated back to the van, where your board sat, begging to be used in the storm.

Paddling out into the ocean, you feel how intense the current is. You have to duck under many waves before you get one that’s salvageable.

It’s incredible to see through the barrel of the wave, but only for a second, as the wave changes and you’re under the water, eyes and lungs stinging. Your hand catches your board before you go too far down, and you wait the wave out, before pulling yourself onto the board, stomach flat on the hardwood finish and paddling out further. You have to duck under the waves that have already started to swell, but you have a good feeling about one far out, forming in the distance.

You see the break line and you’re off, paddling as hard as you can to catch it before it peaks. Before you know it you’re up on the board, and you make the bottom turn, cutting through the wave like a knife, balanced out and eyes the clearest they’ve been all week. You curve up, and then back in, watching the water crest right in front of you. But the whole wave closes out at the same time and you go under again, water in your eyes and ears. The wave turns you over in the swell, and you start swimming back to the surface.

Only, you’re not. You feel the tug on your leg, and you realize you’re swimming in the wrong direction. Using all your strength, you make it to the top, but are pushed back under in another swell, breathless and disoriented.

You pull your leg up to find your strap, panicking, and climb it up to where your board was, getting pulled viciously toward the beach in another wave. You swim up to the top, finally getting some air, and try to find your board. You pant as you wipe your face, but you can see another wave coming. You go under as it crests right above you, and your lungs sting. You come up coughing.

After the wipe out you don’t realize how close you are to the rocks near the pier until you’re on top of them, scraping your legs and the palms of your hands. The ocean is pure white there, all froth and harsh currents. But it’s not as strong as the waves in the middle. You pull your board into you, and decide you’ve had enough for the day, when you see John B. on  the beach, board in hand. You wipe your face again, and sit upright on your board. You survey the water and are surprised to see JJ making his way over to you. His hair is curled over onto his face, almost like a wave itself, his chest bare and his arms moving hard.

“Rocks!” You yell out to caution him, but he’s pulling his board to his chest and ducking under a wave.

He’s almost close enough to hear you when you watch him wince. He must’ve caught himself on a rock.

“You okay?” He yells, and you’re nodding, ready to go back in. He’s by your side and grabbing your arm to keep himself next to you. You grab his knee and feel the waves rock the two of you steadily.

“What happened?” He asks, and you know what he means but it’s too dangerous to hold a conversation out here.

“Let’s go in!” You yell over the swell, and he watches you with concerned eyes for a moment, before he makes you go first. It’s not as bad just riding the waves in, and as soon as you can stand, John B. is in the water, taking your board for you and walking alongside you.

You get to dry sand and rip the velcro off of your ankle. The waves are still loud, but at least now you can hear when John B. tells you, “You’re bleeding.”

You look down and see the culprit: a large scrape down the entire side of your calf, which stings with the salty air. He puts your board down in the sand and kneels down by it to get a better look when JJ makes it in too. He drops his board to the sand and doesn’t even bother unstrapping himself from his board.

“You okay? We saw you wipe out pretty bad,” JJ says, and there’s no pride in his voice. Just concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay, I just cut my leg on the rocks over there,” you say, watching John B inspect the cut.

“I think I have a first aid kit in the car. We have towels too,” John B. informs, and he picks up your surfboard and his own, waiting for you to start walking.

JJ is on you in a second, throwing your arm over his shoulder, his board under his other arm, as his hand wraps around your side. You smile and hobble with him over to John B.’s van.

The walk is silent save for the wind, and is entirely awkward.

“You’re shaking still,” JJ whispers to you as he sits you down on the floor of the van.

“I’ll be fine,” you reply. He moves to the back of the van as John B. starts it up. You wipe your sandy feet carefully on the asphalt before JJ comes back with a towel, pressing it carefully to the cut.  You wince.

“Sorry,” he mutters, lifting it off the cut to inspect the blood. He places it gently back down and applies pressure.

“Ugh, JJ stop doing that. I’m gonna pass out,” you tease, but JJ is not laughing. He glares up at you, and you watch him with warm eyes.

John B. enters from the other side of the van and closes the door, surfboards piled up in the back. He looks under the seat and finds an old first aid kit, probably from when his dad bought the van. It’s dusty and yellow and disgusting looking. He sits down behind you and starts going through it. You turn to him.

“If you take anything from there and touch me with it I’m gonna drive home and leave you here,” you say, and JJ chuckles.

“Be careful, man, she’s bleeding. There’s no telling what she’ll actually do,” JJ says, and he tries to tie the towel around your cut. He’s having a hard time.

“Come inside, you’re gonna catch a cold,” you tell JJ, but he ignores you. Until he laughs out loud.

“A hoe never gets cold,” John B. says from behind you, and JJ remarks, “Hey! I was gonna say that!”

You shake your head and roll your eyes.

“That’s not true. I’m freezing,” you tell the boys, and they both laugh, which fades into silence between you three as John B. puts the kit back under the seat and JJ finishes tying the towel.

There’s a radio station playing ads from the front seat.

“Get in. I’ll close the door,” JJ says, and you scoot backwards as he hops into the back, sliding the door behind him. John B. strategically maneuvers his way into the front of the van. JJ sits next to you, inspecting your fingers and bending them, as if to make sure they’re all in working order.

“You scared us, y’know,” John B. comments from the front. You rest your head on JJ’s shoulders as he notices your scratched palms that have since stopped bleeding.

“It’s okay,” you chide, and JJ runs the pads of his fingers over the cuts.

“It’s just a bad wipeout. It happens all the time to you guys,” you explain, and you feel JJ kiss the top of your head. You pull away to look at him, eyes wide, but he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s watching the rain pelt the window on his side. You two should probably be in seats, but it doesn’t matter at this point.

He refuses to look at you, so you don’t make him. Instead, you place your head back on his shoulder, bring his own palm up to your lips, and plant soft, inaudible kisses there.

You feel him smile as John B. takes his time cruising down the highway.

you’ve got a friend in me

request: ur writing is so good i love ur fics :’) can u do a confessing feelings kiss with jj

summary: jj tries to watch Toy Story with you and takes you on a walk down to one of the old playgrounds in the outer banks

pairings: jj maybank x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: healthy family dynamics. i'm ur dad now.

a/n: this is super fluffy and i love swings ;) big loveeee

“This is worse than I remember it being,” you comment, and JJ stares down at you in his lap.

“What? The cinematic masterpiece that is Toy Story one isn’t good enough for you?” He says, and you turn your attention back to the screen.

“It’s just Toy Story, and sorry to burst your bubble, but… It’s… ugly,” you comment with a chuckle, and he gasps.

“How dare you. Get out of my house, I’m kicking you out,” he says, and stands, ejecting you from his lap onto the floor.

“Ow!” You cry playfully, staring up at him in disbelief.

“This is my fuckin’ house,” you say to him.

A loud, “Language!” comes from the kitchen, courtesy of your father. JJ stares at you with wide eyes, and you both break out into giggles. You sit down next to him on your couch, resting your head on his shoulder, him resting his head on yours. The movie plays on. You feel JJ sigh softly. You’re both comfortable with each other there.

Your dad pokes his head into the doorway.

“Hey! No touching! Ten feet apart. You on that end, you on that end,” he chides, pointing a spoon covered in red sauce at the two of you. You shake your head and sigh, scooting away from JJ.

“I don’t want you even looking at each other. Move over more,” he says to you, and you do, moving to the edge of the couch. He’s still not satisfied.

“More.” He says, and you glare at him.

“Do you want me to just go to my room, and JJ can stay here, and we can just text each other about the movie?” You say. He ponders it and you roll your eyes.

“It’s not like that, dad,” you say. You can practically hear the disbelief on his face. JJ readjusts himself in his seat.

“It’s not like that dad,” your father mocks.

“Yeah, it wasn’t like that with your mother and I. Look what happened. A baby. A house. A dog.”

“We don’t have a dog.” You say, wondering if he’s lost his mind already. At such an age, too.

“What’s on the couch over there?” He says, pointing the spoon at JJ, and you gasp.

“Dad!” You cry, but JJ seems to find it a lot funnier than you do.

“That’s cruel sir. That’s cruel,” He comments playfully, and your dad smiles at him.

“He’s kidding JJ,” your mom says, smacking your father on the shoulder and poking her head into the living room now too. No privacy in this house.

“Are you staying for dinner?” She questions. JJ puts his hand on his heart and looks at her with love in his eyes.

“Ma’am. It would be my pleasure to eat your cooking.”

“I’m the one doing all the cooking!” Your father exasperates, gesturing to his apron.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s doing any cooking,” you mutter under your breath for JJ to hear, and he smiles at you, all round cheeks and tight lips.

“The attitude is unreal,” your dad jokes, going back into the kitchen, leaving the two of you to the movie once more.

It takes you a few minutes and some comments that go unnoticed to realize JJ isn’t watching the movie. He’s staring at the screen, but he’s thinking. Hard.

You scoot closer, tossing a cautionary glance over your shoulder. Your dad is at the stove, out of sight, tending to some pasta.

“What’s up?” You ask, and he puts on a fake smile for you.

“Nothing,” he replies. He goes to stare at the screen again.

“Really? What just happened?” you question, and he looks at you quizzically. You cover his eyes with your hands.

“What just happened in the movie?” You quizz, and his shoulders fall.

“Buzz and Woody just did that thing. They got kidnapped.”

You remove your hands from his face and tuck your feet up under you.

“You’re not even watching it. What’s the point of keeping it on,” you say, reaching for the remote on the coffee table.

“No, I wanna finish it!” He whines, racing to grab the remote before you do. He gets there first, and tucks the remote underneath him, effectively changing the channel to some home renovation show.

You smile and throw your hands in the air. He rolls his eyes, taking out the remote and turning off the TV.

“What do you want to do then?” He says, putting the controller back on the coffee table, next to the centerpiece your mother loved oh so dearly, no matter how ugly it was.

“I want you to tell me what’s up with you,” you say, resting your arm on the side of the couch.

JJ glances toward the kitchen, where your parents worked away, cooking and washing dishes for that night’s dinner.

“Let’s go on a walk,” he suggests, popping off the couch, bounding over to your door.

“Okay?” You question, and getting up, you pop your head into the kitchen.

“We’re gonna go on a walk,” you say, and your parents stare at you with accusations written all over their faces.

“Okay,” your father starts, “But no hand holding. You’re both old enough to know how to cross the street by yourselves—actually, stay on opposite sides of the street, you on one side, him on the other—” as your dad rambles on, your mother smiles at you, waving you off. You grin, practically running out the door. You meet JJ outside, and as you both turn to go, your dad pops his head out the window.

“Don’t talk to strangers! Stranger danger!” He cries, and is pulled back into your house, presumably by your mom.

You push JJ off and you both start running nowhere, in no particular direction toward no particular place, JJ leading.

You both stop on a side street, panting, small pogue houses surrounding you, covered in greenery, the setting sun painting the empty street a golden orange.

JJ smiles at you, then stands and keeps walking. You follow behind him until you can catch up.

‘Where are we going?” You ask, but JJ doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look back at you. He’s walking into the sun.

“JJ, where are we—”

You get cut off, by JJ taking off again, and you sigh, before you yourself take off into a run, then realize that JJ is sprinting.

“JJ!” You cry, breathless.

“Slow down, asshole!”

He stops at the end of a street, waiting for you, breathing heavily, bent over, hands on his knees.

“Language,” he says, as soon as you’re next to him, “we’re near a school,”

He gestures to the mother and child on the crosswalk sign, then crosses the street without looking. On this side of the island, it’s darker, the sun obscured by trees and the school, eclipsing the playground JJ was hopping the fence of. You cross the street more carefully to join him.

You find him on the swingset, waiting for you. Once he was small enough for it, but now, his knees are bent and he’s crouched down into it, swinging slow and low with his feet planted on the ground. You smile as you take a seat next to him.

“The fuck is wrong with you,” you question, and he leans his head against the chainlink metal holding his seat up.

“Do you really want to ask that,” he says, before launching himself into a full swing.

You watch him push himself back and forth getting higher and higher up into the air with each kick.

“JJ,” you say, but he ignores you. He’s trying to go as high as the swing will let him. You’re afraid it’s going to snap, or he’s going to go too high and fall right out of it. Your feet stay on the ground as you swing yourself leisurely back and forth.

“JJ,” you say more sternly, and he laughs up in the air, high on adrenaline. He takes one look at your cautious face and catapults himself off the swing at the highest point, jumping into the wood chips that would most definitely find their way into both of your shoes for the walk home. The sun is even lower now.

He sits in the chips, knees pulled tightly into his chest, staring at you, a hyena grin on his face that you’ve grown accustomed to.

“You should try that,” JJ comments, but you keep swinging. You used to do that too, when you were younger. It makes your heart hurt to think you’ve outgrown it, so you push yourself just a little bit higher.

JJ sits next to you again, still in his seat. He grabs the chains on either side of him, twisting back and forth.

“Your family is really nice,” he says, out of the blue.

“Yeah,” you say, “I’m… I’m lucky to have them—”

“I don’t want to be…” JJ cuts you off, trails off.

“I want it to be like that,” he says, and you’re confused. The sky is blue. Mosquitos will start to come out soon, but you’ve only been out for a little bit.

“What?” You ask, and he stares at you. You drag your feet in the wood chips, a little divot under both your swings. There’s only two of them. You remember racing to them after school with your best friend, hoping to get one before the other kids got there.

“I want us to be like that,” he says, and you’re dumbfounded.

“Not like your family, or your parents… well, kind of, but like… ah, I’m stupid, don’t listen to me.”

“What do you want us to be like, JJ,” you say, and you’re surprised at how low your voice is. You stare at your sneakers and one of your shoes is untied.

“You said…” he starts, and you can feel him looking at you, “You said it wasn’t like that. When your dad was like…” he trails. He traces nonsense patterns into the ground with the tips of his sneaker.

You take the opportunity to look at him. His eyelashes are long, and you lick your lips looking at his.

“And you want us to be like that,” you finish. JJ shakes his head.

“I’m fucking stupid, don’t even listen to me,” he says.

“I just thought your family was nice and…” he cuts himself off, and you place your hand over his, which is still holding the chain link metal keeping him off the floor.

He looks at you. His eyes are unsure.

You realize the ball is in your court.

You reach over him, grabbing the other chain from the swing, and it takes more effort than you realize to face him, so you get up and stand in front of him.

You’re taller than he is when in the swing. The sky is a dark blue now, and it paints JJ’s face, his sculpted sharp features. The edge of his nose and the cut of his jawline and the way he looks like he’s about to cry.

So you can’t help it when you place your hands on his again, and you lean down, and he leans up, and you smile, before you kiss him for the first time.

He slides his hands out from under yours, and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

When he pulls away, he places his forehead on your chest, his head moving with your breathing.

“I wanna be like that too,” you murmur into his hair. He holds you tighter for a second, and you rub his back.

He jerks back when he gets bit by a mosquito, pulling his arms away from you to slap his forearm.

“We’re gonna get eaten alive,” he says, and you back up.

“You ready to go home?” You ask, and he extends his hand for you to take. You pull him out of the swing, and the two of you walk back to your house, hands intertwined underneath a twilight sky. You don’t let go until you reach the front door.

In his seat, JJ’s foot brushed yours, and you smiled at him. He was scoffing down pasta like nobody’s business, your mom gleaming at how he loved her cooking, your dad’s concentration on his own food, almost as vivacious as JJ.

You rub your foot back over JJ’s. He knows what it means, because he stops eating to smile at you, for a brief, almost imperceptible second.

For now, you could be his family.

a friend in need is a friend indeed

request: would you ever write a reader/jj/john b three way? only write what ur comfortable with. i love reading your stuff!!!!

summary: reader, jj, and john b. are drunk. really drunk. handsome teenage boys make for fun parties and willing threesomes.

pairings: jj maybank x reader, john b. x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: unprotected sex, protected sex, vaginal sex, male on female oral sex, female on male oral sex, drunk sex

a/n: dont have unprotected sex :(  i hope every time you think of having unprotected sex, you picture your own conception. i’d also like for people to know i write outer banks, marvel, star wars, and more! i’m still taking requests, so maybe send in an ask for an idea you’ve had in your head for a while? and we can be friends? okay, big love. later!

The alcohol was overkill. She had to admit.

It’s why she was holed up in some random boy’s kitchen, house party ensuing around her as she macked on JJ.

Her arms fit perfectly around his waist in the bright fluorescent light of the kitchen. Their lips work together, sloppy and inexperienced, but full of nerves and nerve endings that send electricity through their veins.

John B. watches from the doorway.

JJ’s hands move from her waist down to her ass, squeezing for his own pleasure. She smiles into the kiss.

“What’s up, guys?” John B. interrupts. He seemed perturbed more than angry. 

She pulls away from JJ, but keeps her arms around his neck.

“I can smell the alcohol on you,” he says, smiling at her. He moves closer to them, the loud music from the living room making it hard to hear. There are people around them too, talking obnoxiously.

“You know what would be great right now?” She says, and John B. squints at her.

“What?” He says, giving in to his curiosity. The beer he’s holding is cold and sweaty in his warm hand.

JJ leans over, her arms still around his neck, to take a sip from a red solo cup.

“Just, like… sex. Good sex.” She complains, and JJ almost chokes.

“You’re crazy.” Says John B., but he’s not entirely sure she’s kidding.

“No, she’s drunk,” argues JJ hypocritically. 

“Would you guys fuck me?” she asks, and both of their eyes widen. Before they can say anything, she reveals, “I’d trust you guys to fuck me. You seem like you’d be a nice fuck.”

JJ leans in, and says just loud enough for John B. to hear, “We could always find out?”

She gasps and pulls away from him, laughing loudly, smile wide.

John B. licks his lips and places his beer down on the kitchen counter. 

“Not now,” he says, significantly less drunk than the other two.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” JJ asks, and she grabs John B. by the arm, interlocking them.

“Right here,” she sings sweetly, and John B. doesn’t pull away.

“Oh, I’m your boyfriend now? What happened to that other guy?” He questioned, and she blushed into his shoulder.

JJ gives John B. a look.

She smiles sweetly up at him.

“Would you fuck me, John B?” She asks again, and John B. hates that he can feel himself getting a little aroused.

He huffs at her. “Not here,” he replies, and she whines.

“Aw, John B., don’t be like that.” She pouts dramatically.

“I’ll have JJ do it then,” she says, reaching out for JJ. He sandwiches her between the two and she leans her head back against JJ’s chest. His hands are on her waist again and she feels him move to the music against her. She leans up and kisses John B. on the chin.

“No you won’t,” John B. clarifies, and he pulls her closer to him, so that JJ glares, and moves closer.

“You both are drunk,” he says, only on his second beer. The folding table in the living room has different ‘levels’ of alcohol, each increasing in strength with color. He swore he’s seen JJ with at least three different colored cups in the time they’ve been there. Which hasn’t been long. 

“No, no, I’ll…” she starts, but giggles, distractedly.

“I’ll let the both of you… do it.” She states coyly.

“ But you have to do it together,” she smiles, and the boys look at each other.

“No way,” John B. says, bluntly, arms crossed over his chest.

JJ stares at him.

“I just won’t look. It’s not like I haven’t seen your dick before,” he argues, and John B. is not drunk enough for this. 

JJ definitely is.

“It’d be really hot, John B.,” she encourages.

“No. I’m not gay.” He says, finally. 

“Neither am I, but she’s offering, bro,”

“It’s not gay, if it’s in a three way,” JJ sings horribly and lowly to John B. She giggles at them, and rubs her hand slowly up and down John B.’s arm. 

He sighs loudly.

“I’m not touching your dick, JJ, so don’t even think about it,” 

“I don’t want to touch your dick!” JJ cries, and people around him glare at the outburst. John B. shushes him.

“Is that a yes?” she asks, and John B.’s shoulders fall as he pinches his nose.

“Yeah. I guess.” He agrees, and she lets out an excited moan that shouldn’t make him so hot and bothered, but it does.

“Yay! Come on, come on,” she encourages, and both boys are following her into some poor soul’s bedroom. It’s definitely the bedroom of a teenage boy, bare and brightly lit by a red neon playboy sign. The full sided bed has a navy blue comforter and there are trophies that line his dresser. The boys look at each other, taking in the room. She makes no effort to remember it, because she’s already unbuttoning her shorts and collapsing on the half-made bed. Her legs lay off the side of the bed, for easy access of course, and she stretches, hands reaching up for the pillows haphazardly thrown at the head of the bed. Her shirt rolls up a little, and she rubs her hands over her skin, playing with the hem of it. 

She finds it funny that though he was reluctant, John B is the first one to strip down to his briefs, and she can see his half hard-on. He goes to take himself out, ready to peel her out of her remaining clothes, but she has other ideas.

“No no, not yet.” she says, and she sits up. She grabs John B. by the shoulders, and pushes him down to his knees. He looks unaware of what she wants him to do. She grabs his hair at the scalp, and slowly tugs him between her legs. He gets the hint, and she watches as John B. wiggles off her shorts and underwear.

JJ fumbles with her bra behind her. She watches these clueless boys with a smile.

He ends up just tugging it over her head and tossing it on the floor along with her other clothes.

She feels John B.’s tongue, abrupt and fast and vastly uncomfortable.

“Woah, slow down there, partner,” she says, and with her hand on his head again, she guides him with slow, stroke strokes of his tongue. 

“Much better,” she encourages, and she lays back, one hand down by her side, the other rubbing small circles into her clit.

She sticks her tongue out for JJ, and he makes quick work of shimmying out of his shorts. He doesn’t even bother taking off his boxers, his member already throbbing hard and pulsing in his hand. He gives it a couple of strokes before guiding onto her lips.

“Ohhh, aw, fuck,” JJ says, her lips and tongue teasing the tip of his cock as John B. gets to work on her entrance. He’s down between her legs, just like she showed him, teasing and licking and kissing as she rubs fast circles with her fingers.

He does something to make her moan, and JJ stops to watch.

“Oh, fuck, John B.,” she whines, “d-do that again,” 

And he complies, fucking his tongue in and out between her velvet folds, head bobbing rhythmically, fast, as she picks up the pace with her own fingers.

JJ decides he wants in on the fun, and he kneels by her head, tilting her neck up to plant firm kisses there, hard enough to bruise.

She lets out breathy gasps at the attention, and it only encourages the boys further. 

John B. grips her hips hard as JJ takes a hand to play with her breasts, nipples peaked and stiff under his heavy touch. Her other hand comes up to cup JJ’s, and he continues his unyielding kisses as she guides him, showing him exactly the amount of pressure she wants. As soon as he’s got it down, he pulls his head away to watch her unravel underneath him. Her head tilts back and she grinds her hips along John B.’s tongue.

There are whimpers from her and wet sounds from John B. and soft panting from JJ as he takes his other hand to rub himself, stroking his cock leisurely. 

“Oh my god, this is better than porn,” JJ comments, but both of the others ignore it. 

“Right there, John B., right there, fuck,” she curses, and closes her eyes to immerse herself in the moment.

“Just like that, perfect,” she encourages, and John B. licks and plunges his tongue deep, and removes it again to rub circles at her clit, replacing her hand. His tongue is wet and he licks long stripes up and down her length.

“Fuck, oh fuck, just—faster, John B., just like that.”

John B. circles his tongue faster, and it only takes a few moments for her to gasp and buck her hips up, so much so that he has to pressure her hips down to keep her there, toes curling, her legs over his shoulders, trying not to squeeze his head.

She whines and moans, and JJ has to stop touching himself because he feels like he’s going to blow his load right there on the floor.

“Oh, fuck, John B.,” she pants, and John B pulls away, watching her womanhood contract at his touch, wet cum framing where he was about to plunge his cock.

She smiles dopily at the ceiling. He is ragingly hard and almost ready to cum. 

“Guess what guys?” She starts, breathy, and they stare at her.

“I brought condoms!” She whispers excitedly, gesturing to her pants on the floor.

Normally, they’d protest, but they’re so horny they’d take any opportunity to cum inside of her.

John B. struggled with her pockets, but, condom in hand, he rips one open, pinches the tip, and rolls it onto his hard cock. It fits, and he admires her.

He rubs his cock over her entrance, playing with the wetness, and she gasps and shudders when he rubs it over her clit.

He smiles arrogantly, and slowly pushes his head in. It doesn’t take much effort, thanks to her orgasm.

He slowly makes his way in, and JJ starts stroking again, standing up to place his cock on her lips. She purses them slightly, and JJ rubs back and forth over them. John B. moans form between her legs.

JJ grabs her chin firmly, and she looks up at him with doe eyes, moaning as she opens her mouth and lazily takes just the tip.

She hollows out her cheeks around him, and he takes in a shaky breath.

John B. pumps fast inside her, pulling out halfway and pushing back into her, holding her hips with a strong grip. She thinks it might bruise, but she doesn’t care. 

All of a sudden John B.’s strokes get more erratic, faster and harder than before. His breathing is fast, and she watches him as his eyes close and his head falls back, strong, slow thrusts now.

He cums, hands on her hips, cock buried deep inside her, his groans filling the space between them. His strokes are calculated, milking every single drop from himself before pulling out and collapsing on the bed next to her.

“You’re next, JJ,” John B. jokes, and JJ doesn’t say anything, moving to take his spot.

He pushes into her, and she notices. Every ridge, every vein on his cock she can feel.

JJ’s strokes are slow and deliberate to start, but then he starts to pick up speed, as does his breathing. It’s only a few seconds before he’s close.

He pumps fast and hard, with reckless abandon for a few moments before he pulls out quickly, and jerks his shaft, concentrating on the tip.

He cums all over her stomach and groans loudly right after, coating her chest with his thick white cum. He grabs a fist full of the bedspread as he shudders.

JJ lets his shoulders fall, and he hunches over. He plants kisses to the inside of her knees, and she giggles, pulling them away. He smiles at her.

There’s heavy breathing from all three of them. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” she comments, and the boys chuckle.

“Yeah John B., nothin’ to be afraid of, man.” JJ pants, running a hand through his hair. He tugs his boxers up over his thighs and tucks his now soft cock back into them, looking around the floor for his shorts.

“Shut the fuck up, JJ,” he says, getting up to find his pants as well.

She lays there, and one of the boys toss her a small pile of her clothes onto the bed.

JJ stares at her once he’s clothed, his seed still on her stomach.

He sighs. He hates this part.

“Go back to the party,” JJ says to John B., “I’ll clean up.” 

John B. looks at him suspiciously.

“Really,” JJ assures, gesturing to her slowly more competent state. She stares at the cum on her stomach.

“It’s okay,” she assures, but JJ is there, using some poor soul’s discarded t-shirt as a rag. It doesn’t smell as far as she can tell, and it’s soft. 

As soon as he’s done, and throws the t-shirt into a corner of the room.

“Uh, okay. We’re gonna go now,” he says, even though John B. left already.

“Okay.” She agrees. JJ slowly makes his way out of the room.

She sits up and gets dressed, ready to make her way back to the party, when John B. enters the room again.

“Where’s JJ?” He questions, making his way over to her swiftly.

“He went back to the party. I thought—” she starts, but John B.’s mouth is on hers, salty and sweet, passionate and slow. His hand grabs the back of her neck and pulls her closer, impossibly so, and there’s teeth and even some tongue.

He pulls away.

“That’s for kissing JJ earlier, in front of me,” he clarifies, and she doesn’t tell him he tastes like her.

She smiles as she watches him leave. His shirt was on backwards. 

coming attraction

request: first time giving jj head??

summary: it’s pretty hot in the Outer Banks. that’s not the only thing that’s getting hot though.

pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: oral sex. JJ wears banana boxers. that is all i will say ;) big love.

You clumsily remove your shirt from your body and lay back down on your bed. You’ve been restless and fidgety all day.

“It’s hot,” you complain to JJ, who already has his shirt off and is laying on his stomach at the end of your bed. One of your pillows is fluffed under his head, and he tries his best to take a midday nap. It’s not working.

“Uh, I think you mean, ‘I’m hot’.” He clarifies, tilting his head to look over at you. You watch him notice your tank top and discarded shirt.

“You’re right, I am hot,” you agree, before groaning and pouting at JJ. He scoffs playfully.

“What do you want me to do about it?” He asks, and you move to lay down next to him, on your back. You mumble something that sounds like ‘I dunno’, and sigh.

It doesn’t take long for you to accidentally fall asleep in the Outer Banks heat. The sun was hot on your face when you woke up, meaning you hadn’t slept for that long, and JJ was still asleep next to you, his arm cushioning his head on the pillow, turned away from you. You smile at the fact that he’s still here, and that you two were close enough that he could just nap in your presence, and not have it be weird. You sit up next to him and shake him so that he’d wake up.

He grumbles before he shifts a little in his sleep.

“Stop it,” he murmurs, “That hurts.”

“Get uppp,” you whine, and he jerks a little so you’d get off of him. He turns to look at you again.

“No, ‘m tired.” He says softly. You roll your eyes.

“Sleep when you’re dead. I’m bored.”

He flips his head again, presumably to fall back asleep, but you’re not having it.

“JJ.” You demand.

“Yeah. Right now isn’t… the best time for me to get up,” he says.

You give him a quizzical look.

“What? Why?”

“I got a problem.” he says. He shoves his face into the pillow and mutters something else.

“What problem?” You ask, amused. You sit up and cross your legs, rocking back and forth a little bit.

“Hmph,” he sounds. You poke him in the side and he shifts his weight, shoving his hands underneath his body.

Your eyes widen with recognition, and you laugh.

“What?” he says, face tinting pink.

“Nothing,” you clarify, but keep smiling at him mischievously.

Suddenly, you start to move one hand up his back, fingertips tracing his muscles and tanned skin.

You lightly graze his neck, and you feel the goosebumps that spread over his body at your touch.

“Turn over,” you suggest, and JJ complies, revealing the slight bulge in his pants and tucking his hands behind his head.

It takes a second before you make eye contact with him, but when you do, you notice his bright blue eyes are slightly darker, and his pupils a little bit blown out. He smirks.

Your eyes trail back down to his shorts, and you lean across his legs to unbutton them. He lifts his hips and you shimmy them down to his ankles, but he doesn’t kick them off.

The bright yellow banana print boxers made you smile. You’ve never actually given JJ a blowjob before, but that didn’t seem to deter him in the slightest.

You run your fingernails right under the waistband, and he brings his hands down to his side. Your other hand goes to feel up his thigh and abs. He places his hand on yours, and brings it to cup his bulge, which you can feel is hard, and likely not going away anytime soon.

Squeezing slightly, you get a feel for his dick, and he slides your hand into his boxers. You grab his cock, hot and pulsing. He closes his eyes when that happens, and lets his head fall back onto the pillow. He hums in approval as you start to move your hand in firm strokes. He pulls his boxers down more to free his cock, and you continue to pump it, slowly, with a solid grip.

“Can you, ah… go faster?” he asks, voice breathy as you progress, but you decide to do him one better.

You move your mouth over the tip of his head, red and glistening, and you spit. You watch it run down the side of his cock as you take your tongue to the underside of it, where sensitive veins ran.

His breath hitches and his hips buck slightly at the pressure.  

Letting your tongue do most of the work, you lick and press wet kisses to the underside of his dick, using one of your thumbs to flick his wet slit, your hand cupping his shaft.

He lets himself enjoy the attention, eyes still closed and cock still hard. His hand moves to hold the back of your head and you open your mouth and let him fuck up onto your tongue, licking his whole shaft.

You move slightly to straddle his calves, leaning down to bring your tongue back to the head of his dick.

“Oh, fuck that feels good,” he encourages.

You begin slowly, sucking on the tip with hollowed out cheeks and he can’t help himself. He moans and his breath sputters softly.

As you start to bob your head, avoiding teeth and trying not to go down too far, he keeps his hand on your head, encouraging you to take more and more down until his cock touches the back of your throat.

You gag a little and pull back, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock still.

“Please, don’t stop,” he begs, his neck craned to look down at you, watching your mouth on him.

You decide to take a different approach, and push the tip of his cock back into your mouth, letting him buck up softly into the inside of your cheek.

He groans, and you take him back onto your tongue, towards your throat again, but not too far this time.

“Ah, I’m gonna…” he starts, but whimpers as you pick up the pace.

“I’m cumming, oh fuck, fuck, I’m—”

And you feel his cum pool on your tongue. You decide to swallow it, sucking so that his hips buck again, and he has to grab a fistful of the blanket underneath him to resist from plunging his cock to the back of your throat.

He moans in pleasure, and you pull away, cum still pooling at the tip of his penis. You carefully wipe it away with one hand, and he sits up, grinning.

“Come here,” he says, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to him forcefully, pressing kisses to your neck.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you protest, wiggling out of his grasp and bending down to wipe his leftover cum on your discarded t-shirt. You had to wash it anyway.

“Aw, come on,” he protests with puppy dog eyes, “that’s not fair.”

“No no, now, you have to do something for me,” you say, and he looks wary of your suggestion.

“Like what?” He asks.

“Like, take a cold shower with me. Because I’m still hot.” You whine, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

“Now that, I can get behind,” says JJ, springing himself off the bed, bare ass naked, in the direction of the bathroom. You admired his body until you couldn’t see him anymore

You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave.

He sticks his head out from behind the door frame and stares at you.

“You coming?” He asks.

“I know you’re coming,” you reply suggestively, and he rolls his eyes as you laugh, getting up to follow him.

between the devil and the deep blue sea

summary: you wake up to find your brother missing. you’re then met by two handsome boys in your motel room, who just so happen to have his key. they offer to help you find him.

pairings: jj maybank x reader / john b x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: a missing brother, teenage boys, and a whole lot of eventual unresolved sexual tension

a/n: outer banks. that is all. happy quarantine yall. big love.

It was jarring to wake up in the motel all by yourself. You hadn’t even heard him leave. 

It took you too long to notice. The room was plunged in darkness, and you took your time waking up, getting out of bed, brushing your teeth. You had only turned on the light when you had decided to get dressed. Which is when you saw the empty bed next to you. It was hastily made, but even the fact that it was made threw you off. He had never been one to make his bed, even back home. Especially not when he first woke up. Did he plan on not coming back? His suitcase was zipped up on one of the chairs at a small desk off to the side. It made your stomach drop to think about. In your PJs, you checked the bathroom, the closet (for good measure), and under the bed (just in case). 

You called his name, but there was no answer. You had woken up multiple times through the night, afraid of the windows exploding, or the door caving in. There were no sand bags or boards for your room. But each time, you were lulled back asleep during a calm in the storm. The noise plus the springy mattress had not allowed for a restful sleep, and you were out of bed as soon as it was reasonable.

Your bare foot hit the damp pavement stepping out of your motel room. Petrichor filled your nostrils. It was a refreshing change from the musty dank mess you had spent the night in, but it wasn’t much more comforting. You were still alone, and you had no clue why. There were men and women all over the motel balcony, working on moving large branches and surveying the damage. You were suddenly grateful you weren’t in one of the rooms on the end, that had large cracks in the concrete. You looked both ways from your room, but you hadn’t recognized anyone. Power tools drowned out the sound of children playing in front of the motel front down below you. There were mattresses put up against the railing. You were expected to check out today, and you had agreed on leaving early, but you didn’t want to leave without your brother. The only option was to wait for him. You returned to the room.

You figured a shower was in order. So you didn’t hear the knock until you came out, towel around your shoulders, fully dressed this time. Thank God. Because you heard the key turn in the lock and light filled the room and all the doubt plunged from your chest because your brother was back—

But he wasn’t. You stared from the bathroom. Two boys. Neither of them your brother.

“Huh,” one says, and you really take a good look at the two of them. Just in case you have to describe them to the police. 

Tall. Wavy brown hair. Hat backwards. Bandanna around his neck. The other one blonde. Short hair. Tank top. Really nice arms, but considering they’re breaking into your motel, you look past it. 

“Check the bag, see if there’s a name on there somewhere.”

A name. Why do they want your name? If they’re going to steal things, they might as well just take it. They’re both teenage boys. About your age. Tall. Probably taller than you, but you can’t tell. The blonde one shoves the key deep into his cargo shorts. They go to close the door behind them.

It takes them a second to notice you. You must look like a deer in headlights.

“How did you get in here?” You ask. You saw the key. Where did they get the key? Only you and your brother have keys, how did they—

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, we didn’t know anyone—” One of them starts.

“Fuck,” the other one says.

“We found this key, we just wanted to—” One goes to explain, but you’re more scared than they are.

“What are you doing here?” You ask

“We just wanted to see where this came from,” says blondie, holding up the motel key. “We wanted to just—”

“Yeah, we’re sorry, we’ll be leaving now,”  The brunette goes to leave, and the blonde goes to follow. The one with the key in his hand doesn’t let go of it. You need to know where they got that key from.

“No! Wait,” you say, and they stop in their tracks.

“Where did you find that key?” You ask. They look between each other.

“On a boat,” One of them replies. The other stares at him.

“What boat?” you ask. You can feel your heart thumping in your wrist. You leave the doorway and sit on your brother’s bed. The door to the motel room is slightly ajar. They, theoretically, could run and never come back. But they haven’t left yet. 

“We… we found it. At the bottom of a marsh.” Brunette says. You let out a shaky breath. What the fuck does that mean? Whose boat did he have? How did he learn to drive a boat? Why would he get on a boat, in the middle of a fucking storm?

Your phone rings on the table next to them. You rush over to it, and the boys move back a little bit. There’s no caller ID. You answer.

“Hello?” you stare at the boys. They stare back at you. They look invested now.

“Hi! Are you busy?” The person asks. It sounds like a man, but not your brother.

“Who is this? How did you get this number?” you say. Today, nobody feels like giving you their names.

“Is your brother there?” 

“No, he’s not here… who is this?”

“Ah, okay, sorry! Have a nice—”

“Who is this?” you demand, but the line goes dead. 

“Fucking great,” you mutter, and the boys are still there.

“Uhh,” one of them starts, “We’re just gonna go.”

You’d had enough. You were fed up with the cryptic messages of today. Your brother disappearing out of nowhere, these boys, the phone call. 

“Can you… Do you know where the boat is, still?” you ask. You run your hands over your face, exasperated. This day was shaping up to be one of the worst of your life.

They’re both silent for a beat, before Blondie speaks up.

“Yeah. We could, I mean, we could show you where it is. Why?” 

Brunette glares at him.

“I can’t find my brother. He left this morning… that’s his motel key. He doesn’t have a boat. I just… I don’t know what’s going on today.” you explain. Brunette gives you a sympathetic look.

“He might be at the store or something,” he suggests, but Blondie has other ideas.

“I’m JJ,” he introduces. He fishes the key out of his pocket and holds it out to you. You decline it.

“No, you can hold on to it. I only need one,” you say, and you lean over to open the drawer next to your bed. Your key isn’t in there. But your brother’s phone is. And a motel sticky note with a number on it

“Oh shit,” you say, and Blondie—JJ, leans over to look in the drawer. He takes out the paper.

“Guess you could use this key then, huh?” he says with a smile. You return it sadly, and take the key from his hands. He looks over the paper.

“Thanks,” you mutter. 

“What’s this for?” he asks inquisitively. 

You take it from his hands. It’s six random numbers. It means nothing to you.

“I don’t know,” you say, handing it back. He hands it over to the other boy. You get up, and move over to the side of the room where your shoes are. Where your brother’s shoes aren’t. 

You give Brunette a once over after you put your shoes on. 

“Who are you?” you ask, and he introduces himself as John.

“But he’s really John B.,” JJ clarifies.

“Is there more than one John?” you ask.

“Probably. It’s a popular name,” John B. says, leading the two of you out of your motel room. You’d have to leave before tonight. You have nowhere else to go, so maybe because of the hurricane they’d let you stay. Checking out the boat wouldn't take too long, right?

“You guys aren’t… serial killers, right?” you question after you lock the door behind you. This is a terrible idea, going with these boys you don’t know at all. But there have been worse ideas. Like your brother leaving early in the morning to steal a boat and sink it in the ocean. You know he can swim, but you can vividly remember him tiring easily at the lake you’d spend the summer at with your family together. Your heart breaks a little bit at the memory.

“Oh come on, could a serial killer look this good?” JJ says, flaunting his body. He playfully runs his hands over his chest and face, and John B. laughs at him.

“Come on, dude, you’re freaking her out,” he says, and looks back at you while you guys walk down the stairs. 

“No, we’re not serial killers. At least not today,” he smirks. You figured you were gonna regret this, but it was too late to turn back now. Besides, what would you do in the motel room until your brother got back. What if he did come back, and you weren’t there? 

Your heart races.

“Wait,” and the sound of their feet on the gravel stops. 

“What if he comes back? And I’m not there? I should at least leave a note or something, right?” you worry. 

“I mean,” JJ starts, “If I were you, wait—have you texted him?” he says.

“Yeah, it was one of the first things I did. But he didn’t take his phone with him.” you say, picturing his phone sitting in the drawer, halfway charged, your missed calls and texts the only notifications. You didn’t know his password either, so it’s not like you could snoop.

“Well, then I think the boat will be your best bet. I could dive down there and see if there’s anything else in it,” John B. suggests. JJ nods in agreement. It’s nice how they decided to assist you, but you can’t help but feel like there’s an ulterior motive underneath it all. 

“Why… I mean, thank you, but—why are you helping me?” you say as you walk with the boys. They’re easy to talk to, and you feel like you guys could be friends very quickly.

“We got nothin’ better to do,” John B. says with a smile, and you think how nice it would be to be a part of something.

“Oh shit, it’s the cops,” JJ says, and you and John B. look up immediately. 

“What are they doin’ here…” John inquires. 

“Do you guys know them?” you ask, and JJ gives you a look.

“Know them? We’re practically besties.” 

The way he says it doesn’t make you feel better.

“Let’s go, before they see us.” John B. says, and you follow them to a little boat moored on the shore. 

“This is what we found in the room,” JJ says as he gets closer. There’s two other people there.

“A girl?” the boy says. The girl just smiles at you.

“Hi,” you say, and introduce yourself to them.

“I’m Kie, that’s Pope,” Kie says, gesturing to Pope. They look nice enough. It’s a nice little crew they have, and you find yourself wishing you could have something like this. Maybe, just maybe, if things worked out, you and your brother could make a life here. Do something here. Be someone here. But first, you’d have to find him.

“We walked in and she was in the room,” John B. says.

“We thought someone called the cops on you. Look,” Pope says, gesturing to where they had pulled up. They were talking among themselves near their patrol car. 

“Yeah, we know,” JJ says. He holds your hand as he helps you onto the boat. His hands are firm and cold, but you realize you like holding them. He smiles at you, then John B. puts his foot on the side of it.

“Uh, where’s my hand JJ?” John B. asks, and JJ responds with a shove, almost pushing John into the murky marsh water as he loses his footing, half on the boat, half on the shore. John B. gives him a hard shove back, and JJ loses his balance, catching himself with one hand, that comes back wet and muddy. You look on in amusement, but Pope tugs on your shirt, moving you back a little.

“You might wanna move back,” he says, and John B. jumps onto the boat, JJ in tow. They run around the center console for a second, JJ chasing John B. with a muddy hand, and Kie pats the spot next to her. The boat was small, so you took the opportunity to sit down. 

“What’s your story?” she says.

“Hmm?” you hum, tearing your eyes away from JJ slathering the back of John B.’s shirt with half dry mud, flaking onto the boat and sticking to his shirt. Pope narrowly avoids the splash zone, gripping the edge of the boat. 

“I can’t find my brother. The key you guys found? That was his. And he doesn’t have a boat, so I don’t really know what happend. I wanted to go check out where it was, y’know?”

You felt better around Pope and Kie. They were the more level headed of the four, you concluded. Which is probably why they were on the boat and not breaking into your motel room. You unheedingly ran a hand over the key in your pocket, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. You wish you had brought sandals you noted, as some of the water on the boat saturated the canvas of your shoes, right above where the rubber sole ended. 

“That sucks. I’m sorry,” Kie apologizes, before JJ hops off the boat again. At the front, he undoes whatever knot he used to tie the boat to whatever waterlogged tree he could find there. With a strong push, he dislodges the boat from the shore, and just makes it back onto the boat before John B. turns on the engine.

“All aboard that’s coming aboard?” John B. cries out. 

“Aye aye Captain,” says JJ, moving to the front of the boat.

John eases the boat out of the motel area, and back into the marsh. 

“You ever been on a boat before?” JJ asks, taking a seat at your feet. You politely decline the beer he offers you. He shrugs and places it back into the cooler on Kie’s side.

“Uh, not one like this. I’ve been on a boat before though,” you say.

“What, you been on boats nicer than this one?” Questions John B. from the helm.

“Not possible. This is the nicest boat there is.” Pope replies sarcastically. 

“Yeah, I don’t know what’s my favorite part, the broken fishing rod holder or the helicopter engine on the back of this thing.” JJ says. You chuckle softly at his joke, but you find it endearing how John B. defends her. 

“Aw, don’t listen to them, Old Girl.” he says to the boat.

“You’re still my favorite,” John B. whispers to her, giving the wheel a little kiss.

Everyone laughs at him, and he grins, sitting a little taller in his seat. 

“Are you from around here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” Pope says, beer in hand. They can’t be of age, but it’s an island, so who cares.

“No, I’m not. My brother and I were just passing through, but the storm hit. We were supposed to leave two days ago, but there were no ferries coming in or out.”

“On your way somewhere?” Kie asks.

“Nowhere specific,” you say, and JJ laughs.

“Mysterious, I like it,” he gets up from his spot at your feet and stretches upward. The tank he’s wearing already shows off a lot of skin, especially his sides, but when he stretches, he exposes his stomach a little bit. He’s got an athletic build. I guess that’s what happens when you live on an island.

“What about you guys?” you ask, suddenly a little claustrophobic with all the attention. 

“Have you guys always lived here?”

“Yeah. We all grew up here. Been here since we were born.” Pope says.

“Hopefully not for much longer,” clarifies Kie.

You quirk a brow at her. She continues.

“There’s nothing left for us here. Nobody cares about us. If we can get out, we can probably do something with our lives.”

“Yeah. If I want to do anything worth doing, I won’t be working under my dad when I do it.” Pope adds. Everyone else seems to agree.

Everyone except John B.

“I think that’s it,” he says, slowing the boat down considerably and looking over the console to get a look at it.

You and everyone else crowd the side of the boat. You don’t like how it leans forward a little, with the weight of everyone on the bow of it. In the cloudy water, there sits a big hunk of something. If he hadn’t had pointed it out, you probably would’ve paid no mind to it. It reminds you a little bit of how the Titanic sank.

John B. all of a sudden has his shirt off and his sandals, hat discarded somewhere off to the side with his bandanna in it. He jumps headfirst off the side of the boat, toward the object in the water. 

“I hate it when he does that,” Kie voices, “He’s gonna crack his head open one of these days,”

“Let him,” JJ says, watching the water intently with the rest of you. 

The seconds pass by slowly, and you begin to worry about John B.

“Should we go get him?” Pope asks, but John B. answers by popping up out of the water, sputtering and coughing, wiping his face with his hands.

“Anything?” you ask hopefully.

John B. stares at you. 

“Well, it’s still a boat.”

“Great, John, that’s totally gonna reassure her.” JJ criticizes.

“I couldn’t stay under long enough to see what was down there,” John B. says, making his way over to the side of the boat.

“So? What now?” you ask. All hope is lost. You can only hope that your brother is waiting for you back at the motel. 

John B. shakes his hair dry like a dog, and then slicks it all back. You can see he’s prepared to let the sun dry him off. He looks at you whimsically.

“Actually, I know where we could get some scuba gear.”