#OBX Series

[rcameronofficial]

who wants a new necklace?

[gh0stsp1d3r]

nah cause all i can think abt it rafe being an absolute DICKHEAD to everyone but you. like he 180 changes when ur around and it completely baffles everyone.

OOOOH yes. everyone tellin you “he’s a dickhead, I don’t get why you’re with him.” And youre like “wdym? he’s the sweetest boy ever.” because you nd him and literally like this everyday

his friends hate it sm. I imagine it would go something like this

🪷 ꪆৎ 🕊️‧₊˚♡︎

Everywhere Rafe went, you followed. His friends never had the balls to say anything and just let it happen.

At parties, he was drinking and leaning in his chair, talking to Barry, who currently smoked a joint. A man sat in front of them, offering them an amount of money for the gold from the cross.

Rafe shook his head at the offer.

“That all?” Rafe asked him, unamused.

“I mean,” the dude scoffed. “How much would you take for it?”

“This bar is at least 5 grand. If you don’t got the money, fuckin’ stop wasting my time.”

“How is that five grand?”

Rafe rolled his eyes, irritated as he shut the case the gold was kept it. “Yo, what the fuck did I just say? Stop wasting my time. Get the fuck out.” He nodded, the man scoffing and shaking his head, standing up and walking away.

Rafe seemed irritated, his eyebrows furrowed and his face rested in an annoyed expression. That was until he glanced up and saw you walking towards him.

The man that had tried to buy the gold pushed past you, making you furrow your eyebrows at his rudeness.

Rafe had seen it, his irritation and anger bubbling once again. You just shrugged it off as you continued your stride to your boyfriend.

And he saw your bubbly demeanor, bouncing around happily as you walked towards him with the sweetest smile. He melted, the corners of his lips twisting up to form a smile. You fell into his lap, clearly drunk as you slurred out his name happily, hiding your face in his shoulder.

“Hey, baby.” He mumbled softly and quietly, hands rubbing circles on your legs.

Barry raised his eyebrows at Rafe, Rafe motioning for him to leave, his old glare back before he turned his attention back to you.

“You tired?” He asked you quietly.

“Yeah. Wanna go home, Rafey.” You whined and complained. And with anyone else, the nickname would have had someone 6 feet under.

“Alright. We’ll go home. Lemme just clean up here, Kay’?” He patted your ass softly, gently getting you off his lap.

“‘Kay.” You mumbled tiredly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and waiting, but before he could even turn around to you, you were fast asleep on the couch.

He sighed, shaking his head and smiling again to himself.

[drewsephrry]

obx: in a different realm these two would be friends

[renegadesstuff]

This parallel 🥺

[pankowstuff]

rudy pankow — icons.

[featherandferns]

daylight - one

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 1 of the daylight series | read prologue here

content warnings: none

word count: 3.5k.

blurb: when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, a stranger stops to help. It isn't until later that you realise why he seems so familiar.

It’s dusk, around eight at night, when you’re driving home. The dying sunlight is compensated by sparse street lamps. There weren’t many people in this area: houses or shops or anything of the sort. You glance down at your satnav. Still new to the area, all the streets look the same. All the houses do too, for that matter - at least those on the Cut. You’d ventured into Figure Eight last week on foot, camera in hand, and promptly turned back around. The Kooks were far from inviting; eyed you up like bait, practically snarling under breath at the sight of you. The houses were huge, stupid things compared to the two bedroom shack you and your parents had moved into. No, the Cut felt more welcoming. The people were genuine and real. Friendly and helpful, even if they had an edge.

“So…” Your friend Mimsy’s voice through the hands-free speakerphone brings you out of your daydreams. “How is it? Found any hot surfer bros yet?”

You laugh. “Sorry to break your heart but no, not yet.”

“Girl! What the hell have you been doing?” Mimsy scolds. 

“I’ve been busy!”

“With what? Wallowing in self pity? Pining after my company?”

“Oh my God, how did you know?” you sarcastically return. “My life is just empty without you around, Mimsy.”

“Damn straight it is,” she mumbles. 

Rolling your eyes, you continue down the street. “I’m looking for a side hustle to get some extra cash.”

“God, you’re so boring sometimes, you know that?”

You snigger. “How else do you want me to afford flights to Vancouver? It’s my only way to get back there and see you again. Unless you want me to hitchhike.”

“Nuh-uh! I just listened to the craziest story about hitchhiking! It's this guy called the ‘Glove Guy’ who roams Halifax and–”

“Mimsy,” you interrupt, “what’s our agreement?”

She’s quiet a moment, sighs and says, “one true crime story a day.”

“Mhm. And didn’t we already talk about Ted Bundy?”

“...yes.”

“I rest my case,” you say. 

“Look, I’m just saying that if you have to get a job, maybe try and be the official photographer for the lifeguards or something.”

“Mimsy…”

“Then you can ogle at hot guys all day, catch a tan and get paid for it!”

Through Mimsy’s chatter and your stifled laughter, the engine makes a troubling rumble. With that, the whole car shudders. The steering wheel shivers in your grip and your stomach drops, panic rising. Smoke pummels out the hood. Clouds your vision. 

“Oh fuck!”

“What? What is it?”

“I gotta call you back!” you blurt, hanging up in a hurry.

You take a fleeting glance in the mirrors and swerve off the road, shutting off the engine. The smoke makes you cough, catching in your lungs. 

“Oh shit! Oh shit!” you continue to cuss, grabbing your phone, scrambling to get your keys out the ignition. Swinging the door open, you throw yourself out of the car and run away, scared it might catch on fire or even explode. 

As you gape at it, chest heaving, you’re relieved to see the smoke is dying down with the engine shut off. Sighing, you plant your hands on your hips and look up and down. Nobody. Nothing. Not a gas station or a shop you can dash in for help. Hell, any shops would probably be closed either way. You reply to Mimsy’s frantic texts with a brief explanation and then contemplate calling your parents. Before you can, the sound of another car approaching catches your attention. It’s a campervan. Brown paint which is mostly chipped and peeling; stickers decorate the sides and windows. It’s well-loved and well-worn. There’s a guy driving, about your age from the looks, and he’s slowing down at the sight of you and your abandoned car.

He pulls up. Your skin prickles nervously. It’s lonely around here. The engine shuts off and you watch as he jumps out the car and saunters over, hands in his short pockets. 

“You a’right?”

“Yeah,” you lie.

He quirks a brow and glances at your still steaming vehicle. “You sure ‘bout that?”

“I, uh,” you follow his line of sight and flail your arm uselessly at it. “Well, no. I kinda broke down.”

“Ah.” He wanders over to your car and whistles. “She’s smokin’, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nervously laugh, following. You keep a comfortable distance between the two of you. 

He heads to the car hood. Glancing at you, he asks, “you mind?” whilst gesturing down to it. You shrug yes. He pops the hood and laughs through his coughs, fanning his face free of the smoke. 

“Goddamn. The hell happened?”

“I don’t know. It just blew up on me out of nowhere,” you reply, coming over. 

He pulls a rag out of one of his pockets and wafts it over the engine. As he checks out the engine, you do the same to him.

Donned in a grey t-shirt, graphic decal on the back mostly faded, and a pair of black cargo shorts and boots, he looks the image of Kildare County. His dark blonde hair is kept under a red cap. It’s fraying on the lip. A shark tooth necklace hangs around his neck, rings decorate a few of his fingers, and several string and beaded bracelets adorn his left hand. He’s good looking, even in the low visibility of the night. There’s also something strangely familiar about him. Almost like you’ve seen him before. 

He meddles with something, nodding. You snap your eyes back up to his face from his well-kept figure just in time as he looks at you. “It’s the radiator. Seems to have overheated or detached or some shit. I mean, whatever happened has completely busted the thing.”

You raise your brows. “That supposed to mean something to me?”

Laughing, he shrugs and gestures at the mechanics. “In simple terms? The thing’s a goner. You’re gonna need a new part on it.”

“So I can’t drive it?”

“Nope. Not ‘til you get it fixed,” he replies. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale deeply. “Fucking great.”

“I mean, there’s a garage not far from here. They’ll probably fix her up for you no problem. Have her good to go for Tuesday.”

“Tuesday!? I thought you said it just needs a new part?”

He takes off his cap, revealing a head of messy hair. Raking a hand through it, he says, “well, yeah, but you’re gonna need the part first. They might have to order it in and stuff.”

“Well, great,” you grumble. You pace away from the car and take your frustrations out by kicking the tyre. “That’s just great.”

“Look, if you want I can give you a tow.” Looking at him, he shrugs. “The garage ain’t far so it’ll be fine to take it using the Twinkie.”

“The who?”

He laughs at himself, shaking his head. “Sorry, uh, that’s what we call the campervan.”

“Oh. Right.”

You look around and take in the situation. It’s dark, isolated, and your phone is on 5% (thanks for that, Mimsy). Calling insurance and a tow company is only going to bump up your bill. Besides, this guy seems genuine. Non-threatening. You can practically hear Mimsy screaming at you from across the continent: so was Ted Bundy! Eyeing him up, you assure yourself you could probably take him if you really had to, and trust your female intuition and gut. 

“Alright. Only if it’s close.”

“It is, I swear. I know the owner, Barry," he says. He pulls out his phone and types something on the screen. Then, he approaches with maps open, showing the garage. It’s true: it is nearby. Ten minutes max. “I mean, if you prefer I can just call you a tow or a cab or something.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you say. You close the hood shut and shake your head, laughing. “Can’t believe my Goddamn luck.”

The guy laughs too. In your peripheral, you see him extend a hand to you. “I’m JJ.”

Shaking his hand, you introduce yourself. Then the two of you spend the next five or so minutes sorting out attaching your car to his van. He does most of the heavy lifting, almost jumping at the chance to flex his strength (not that you were complaining) and you do as he asks. Fasten this here; steer this whilst I push. Eventually, you’re good to go. He offers you the front or the back and you opt for the front. Mimsy is probably having an aneurysm about now. 

The campervan smells of weed, damp and a dying air freshener. The front seats are red leather. It’s soft and supple and comfortable, and you hitch a leg up and rest one arm on the window ledge, watching the world pass by as JJ drives. The radio is humming out a Mac Miller song and it fills the semi-awkward silence. 

“So, what’s with the accent?” JJ asks. 

“What’d you mean?”

“I mean, you ain’t from round here, right?” JJ asks, glancing between yourself and the road. 

Smiling, you reply, “Yeah, I’m not.”

“Where you from then? Midwest? East Coast?”

“Vancouver.”

“Vancouver? As in Canada Vancouver?” JJ checks, eyes growing wide. 

You laugh quietly and nod. “Yep. As in Canada Vancouver.”

“God damn. You’re pretty far from home,” he laughs. 

“Well, not anymore,” you reply, voice turning sombre. “We moved here.”

“In May? Pretty shitty time to move.”

“Tell me about it,” you mumble, looking back out the window. It hadn’t been your idea. In fact, you’d protested loudly against it. 

“So, how you finding Kildare so far? Wait, scratch that - how you finding North Carolina?”

“Um…alright. You guys have pretty good waves here and the weed’s pretty good so at least there’s that.”

“Now you’re speaking my language,” JJ grins.

You laugh at that, feeling yourself relax more and more as the conversation continues. “Yeah, I think it’s the only thing getting me through.”

Love Lost fills the quiet that comes. You glance at JJ. He drives with one hand on the wheel, holding it by the top in his fist. The streetlamps sneak through the windows and highlight his features in flashes. And it’s in one of those flashes, when his handsome profile is illuminated, that you suddenly realise why you recognise him. 

The kegger. 

You quickly look away. Your eyes grow wide. Did he recognise you? Did he even remember that? 

“I heard Vancouver’s pretty as fuck though,” JJ says, unaware of your quiet panic. “Pretty gorgeous scenery and shit, right?”

“Mhm,” you hum, heart ticking nervously. “You ever been?”

“Nah. Never left the States before.”

“Not even Canada?”

“Too far,” he shrugs. “Couldn’t dish out that kinda cash.”

“I hear you,” you say. “My friend Mimsy really wants me to go back this summer but I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to make enough in time to afford flights and stuff.”

“That blows,” JJ mumbles. 

The conversation comes to a natural close when the garage comes into sight. Its neon sign shines bright in the dark like the beacon of a lighthouse. JJ pulls in and shuts off the engine. You linger in the car a moment to catch your breath whilst he looks at unhooking the tow gear. 

It doesn’t seem he remembered you or that mortifying moment at the kegger. At least, if he did, he’s acting like he didn’t. So…That’s good, right? You can just move past the whole thing. Besides, it’s not like you were doing anything that weird. You took plenty of pictures that night (though everyone else was in pairs or groups) and it was a public get-together. It wasn’t like you were halfway up a tree and peeping through his window. 

You jump at the sound of rapping on the passenger window. JJ’s stood there, frowning in confusion. 

“You comin’?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah,” you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out the van. You follow him into the shop. 

A burly man sits behind the counter. He’s watching a sports game on a crackling television, drinking a beer shamelessly on the job. At the sound of the bell chiming above the door, he glances over. He seems to recognise JJ. 

“Hey, Barry,” JJ grins. 

“Hey there, kid,” Barry's gruff voice returns. 

They share a bro-style hug and you awkwardly side by him near the counter. JJ plants a friendly hand on your shoulder.

“My friend here had her radiator blow-up on her just now. She needs it fixing up stat. Any chance you could get a push on it?”

“Just the radiator?” Barry checks, glancing between yourself and JJ. 

JJ nods. “Yes, sir. I checked it out and it’s just overheated or some crap. A new one and I swear it’ll be good as new.”

“Hm…” Barry contemplates. He glances at the clock and the sports game and cringes. “I don’t know, kid. It’s late and I’ve had a long day. It’s a lot of extra work that I could just get done tomorrow.”

“Oh, come on, Barry,” JJ argues cordially. “How many times have me and my old man helped you out?”

“Your old man stole fifty bucks from me,” Barry grunts. 

Your eyes dart down to the floor, lips pursing. Yikes. 

JJ falters for only a moment. “Alright, well, forget that then. How many times have I helped out? I mean, I’ll pick up a shift or two if you want? Get you some new parts or something?”

Barry sighs. He looks to you again and you smile politely, hoping your nerves don’t show. He’s a scary looking guy. He could probably crush you with one fist. Both his arms are covered in sleeves of tattoos. He’s missing several teeth and there’s a teardrop tattooed below his left eye. 

“She’s new to the County,” JJ feels the need to add. “Gotta show some good hospitality, right?”

With that, Barry relents. He gets to his feet and trudges to the window to eye up your car. 

“What kinda car is it?”

You tell him, reeling off as much information as you can recall. He nods, back to you, and sighs again. 

“Well, I think I do got a part back here for that, actually. I ain’t making any promises though,” Barry says. He heads into the back with that, leaving you and JJ in the store. The moment the older man is out of sight, JJ grins at you. 

“Am I good or what?”

“Why are you helping me so much?” you find yourself asking. 

JJ seems surprised by the question but not offended. “Dunno, really. You seem nice. And I always kinda wanted to be a knight in shining armour.”

“So that makes me, what? The damsel in distress?” you joke. 

He paces the store leisurely, eyeing up car parts and accessories. “Suppose so. You’re from a far away land so you’re already half way there.”

You laugh. Glancing around the store, you find yourself drawn to the pinboard behind the counter. It’s cluttered with posters, deals, business cards, receipts, reminders and a calendar. Amidst it is pictures and thank you notes from children. One picture catches your eye. It’s of Barry, a few years younger, with a little girl. 

“She’s cute,” you smile. 

JJ joins you and follows your gaze. He smiles too, though it seems sad. “Yeah, that was his kid. She died about a year back now.”

“Wait, really?” you frown. 

Sighing, JJ nods and looks to you. “Freak car accident. Poor kid drowned. Her mom too. Lost his wife and kid in the same day.”

“Shit,” you whisper, looking back at the photo. Your heart tugs at the thought and you feel guilty for judging him by his cover. You had your problems with your parents but you couldn’t imagine them gone from your life. 

Barry returns to the store, car part in hand. JJ clasps his hands and tosses them above his head. 

“Barry, you fucking g.”

“Alright. Alright, don’t kiss my ass too much, Maybank,” Barry quips. He heads for the door. “There’s soda in the fridge. You kids help yourself.”

With that, he grabs his toolkit and heads out to your car. JJ doesn’t need to be told twice. Whilst you feel rude for intruding on this man’s evening, JJ is happy to revel in the hospitality. He tosses a can at you before grabbing one for himself. You follow him out the back. The light from the store overflows onto the sheltered concrete. There’s two plastic garden chairs back here with a busy ashtray on the floor. JJ relaxes in one of the seats and you copy. 

“You known Barry long?”

“Him and my dad go way back,” JJ replies, sipping his soda. “I used to come here all the time as a kid.”

“Sounds like they’re not on great terms right now, huh?” you say. 

JJ sips his drink and shrugs, looking out to the abyss of greenery surrounding the garage. “Pretty standard for my dad. Kinda his M.O.”

You get the feeling that you hit a sensitive spot. Sipping your soda, you switch topics. 

“So what do you guys do for fun around here, then?”

“Surf. Fish. Smoke,” JJ lists. “Sometimes we go to a kegger at the beach and stuff. You been to one yet?”

You wonder if he’s trying to rat you out but when you look at him, you see no sign. “Yeah, I went to one. I didn’t stick around very long though. Didn’t know anyone and felt kinda awkward.”

“That’s fair,” JJ says. He pulls a vape out of his pocket and takes a hit, and it’s like the nicotine gives him an idea. He turns to you, renewed energy. “Oh shit! You should come with my lot!”

“Hm?”

“My friends. You’d get along great with them, swear down,” JJ tells you. “You fish?”

“I can but I don’t exactly relish the opportunity.”

“Alright, well, that’s gonna change,” JJ says, making you laugh. “You surf too, right?”

“Mhm,” you nod. Vancouver had a good surf scene. You and Mimsy used to spend hours on the beach and in the waves, although part of the appeal for your friend was the surfer bros. They were her kryptonite. 

“Well, it’s settled. You’re coming to the next hang we have,” JJ tells you with a grin.

He relaxes back in his chair and takes another hit of his vape. It smells like blue raspberry. As you watch him, you find yourself laughing. 

“Alright, seriously,” you say. “Why the hell are you being so nice to me?”

“I told you: you seem nice.”

“Okay, but seriously,” you repeat. 

JJ studies his vape for a moment and a knowing smile comes to his face. Chuckling, he sighs and relents, looking back to you. “Alright. You’re fuckin' hot. Sue me.”

You bark out a laugh. JJ cracks up too. 

“What!? You asked!”

“No, no, I did,” you laugh, catching your breath. “That’s fair. I had that coming.”

“It’s just like you’re exactly my type. Kinda freaky really,” JJ continues. It seems that now the cat is out of the bag, he might as well let it roam free. “Like you’re smokin' hot and you surf and shit. And you got a dope accent, it's kinda exotic.”

“Since when was Canada exotic?” you laugh, rolling your eyes. 

JJ shrugs with a boyish grin. His eyes stay trained on you. “I dunno. Since I met you, I guess.”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t affected. JJ’s attraction hadn’t passed you by and, in truth, he was just your type as well. Confidence that borders on cocky: handy and hunky, but not in a steroid-style way…Maybe Mimsy wasn’t the only one who had a thing for surfer boys. To cool yourself from the intensity of his gaze, you take a sip of your soda. 

“I just weren’t gonna say anything cause, you know, I didn’t wanna freak you out,” JJ admits. 

“Freak me out? How so?”

“Random guy, random area. Alone?” he replies. Sheepish, he shrugs. “Might be kinda creepy.”

You catch his drift. Shrugging, you flash him a smile. “Nah, you didn’t freak me out. You’re not too bad to look at yourself.”

“Gee, don’t hold back,” JJ sarcastically returns. You laugh. “Look, you ain’t gotta say anythin' about it. I think you should still come hang with me and my friends, whether you’re madly in love with me or not.”

“Wow, are you confident?” you chuckle incredulously. 

JJ grins. “Charming, ain’t it?”

“One word for it,” you return. You debate his offer and come to a conclusion pretty quick. Lord knows you could do with some friends, and if his gang were anything like himself, you could see yourself getting along just fine. “But yeah, I’d be down to hang with you and your friends.”

“Sweet.” JJ holds his can out for a toast. “Then let me be the first to say, welcome to Kildare.”

You clink your can against his with a small laugh and the two of you drink. Maybe your new life won’t be as boring as you first thought. 

read part two here!

taglist:

princesssuki21 |

[multifandom-gif]

KIARA CARRERA & JJ MAYBANK in OUTER BANKS SEASON 4 PART 2 (Trailer) ❤️‍🩹

[s1ck-skv1l]

He's so fucking sexy bro, It genuinely hurts my soul that I'll never have this man.

[lilstarkeydream]

Hidden Flames Series

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

Summary: Y/N, a Kook who prefers the company of her Pogue friends, falls for Rafe Cameron. Despite their growing feelings, they maintain a facade due to their conflicting social circles and personal insecurities. Y/N is best friends with Sarah, Rafe's sister, which fuels Rafe's hidden affection. He despises how Y/N hangs out with the Pogues, believing she has more potential, while Y/N can't stand Rafe's for fights and stuck up nature. After a dramatic confrontation, they confess their feelings but must keep their relationship secret, with only Sarah in the know.

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

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4 (Coming soon)

[sunniepoo]

the camphouse murders ☏

summary: summer has hit the outer banks and the annual camp has opened! kooks, pogues and tourons are all flooding in but a series of brutal murders leaves everyone a suspect

act one……. (coming soon)

act two

act three

authors note; hey guys this is something working on for the past couple weeks, it is still a big work in progress but i am thinking to have the first chapter soon , hope you guys will enjoy!!

[gh0stsp1d3r]

could u do bestfriend!rafe with bunny girlygirl reader like theyre more than friends but havent put a name on it so theyre just soecial bestfriends for now

“ℬℯ𝓈𝓉 𝒻𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓃𝒹𝓈“ 𝒹ℴ𝓃𝓉 𝒹ℴ 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉

When Rafe wasn’t at Tannyhill, some shitty party, or out golfing with his friends, he was probably with you. Although he was always with you, even doing all of that.

“Jesus, did you have to bring her along?” Topper mumbled to Rafe, having to hear your endless yapping about something neither boys really cared about. Kelce currently drove the gulf cart, zoning tour talking out.

Even after, when all the boys had gone and it was just you both in his truck, you sat with him happily at an ice cream shop. He sat across from you, slowly eating it and enjoying your company.

“You got some..” he motioned to the corner of your lips, you furrowed your eyebrows and attempted to wipe it off, you missing the spot. He leaned over the table, wiping it off with his finger.

His body moved as if time had slowed down, his hand trembling as he swiped it over your lip. Even the slightest contact making him freak the fuck out.

Jesus, he felt like a lovesick teenager. “Something was wrong, man the fuck up. This is your best friend.” Is what his thoughts told him.

Your eyes widened, your cheeks heating up and you looking away as he pulled his hand away, retreating back onto the other side.

“Thanks.” You murmured, giving him a small smile and the both of you wordlessly eating your ice cream again.

You stared outside, the grey clouds looking over. It started to rain, and you both silently and comfortably watched the raindrops fall.

“Thanks, em, I’ll see you later!” You told your friend, who also happened to work at the ice cream shop, waving bye to her as you shut the door.

Your hands were entwined with Rafe’s, and you furrowed your eyebrows as you looked out at the pouring rain.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asked when he began to step forward, but felt you not budging.

“I can’t get in the rain, especially not in these heels or this dress.” You shook your head, a small pout on your face as you looked at him. He shrugged.

“It’s just a lil rain.”

“A little? It’s pouring!” You looked at him, with those sweet eyes he couldn’t resist.

Rage sighed, thinking for a moment.

He pulled his jacket off, and stepped behind you, holding it above your head.

You looked up, and behind you again, smiling at Rafe who tried to hold a smile back.

But you noticed the way the corners of his lips slightly tugged up.

You turned around, beginning to walk, Rafe following your every move and using his jacket as your umbrella all the way to the car, where the both of you ran and jumped in.

He started the car, you staring at him.

“Thank you, Rafey!” You suddenly spoke, and before he could even open his mouth you were leaning over and kissing him on his cheek. He was taken aback.

His movements stopped, a hue of pink on his face. As well as the pink lipstick you had on, which was now stained on him.

“Yeah, yeah.” He shrugged it off, looking away and out the window while beginning to drive out the parking lot.

He drove to your house, you thanking him again before jumping out.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asked, rolling down the window.

“Yeah!” You called back, giving him a smile and turning back to the steps.

He watched you open the door and scurry inside before driving off. He shook his head to himself as he drove over to Barry’s.

He pounded on the door, making Barry annoyed as he opened the door.

“What? What?” He mumbled, opening it. Rafe pushed his way inside the trailer, sitting down and putting his cash down.

“Jesus, okay.” Barry spoke, rolling his eyes as he went over to where he kept his shit, grabbing a bag and handing it over to Rafe.

When Rafe snorted his line, Barry noticed something on his cheek. A faint kiss mark.

Barry snorted, Rafe furrowing his eyebrows.

“What?”

Barry scratched his own cheek, making rafe groan as he remembered. “Gotta…”

Rafe’s eyes widened, attempting to wipe it off.

“Got some girl you hiding, country club?” Barry asked him, teasing as he leaned back.

“No.. it’s my fuckin’ friend.”

“That y/n bitch?”

“Don’t… call her that.” Rafe paused his movements, looking at Barry.

“She got you on a leash, man.” Barry barked out a laugh again, putting his hands up in mock defense.

“She’s my friend.”

“Friends don’t kiss as far as I’m concerned.” Barry shrugged.

“On the cheek, not even on the lips.”

“Yeah, course. Friends my ass.” He mumbled the last part to himself.

“Whatever.” Rafe pushed himself off the couch.

“Aye, man, no offense. Everyones been saying that shit.”

“Who?” He snapped his head towards Barry.

“Everyone. Shit, if I was you? I’d been in those pants a longggg time ago. You a lucky man, country club.” Barry shrugged.

“Do not fucking speak about her like that.” Rafe told him again, banging on the walls of the trailer.

“Sorry, sorry.”

Rafe opened and slammed the door, Barry laughing to himself and shaking his head.

“Pussy.”

[drewsephrry]

Drew Starkey filming Outer Banks season 4 (via Fiona Palomo's instagram)

[renegadesstuff]

JIARA HUGS 🥺🤍

[pankowstuff]

rudy pankow — icons.

[featherandferns]

daylight - two

jj maybank x fem!reader | part 2 of the daylight series | read part 1 here

content warnings: drinking, mentions of sex

word count: 3k.

blurb: you join jj's friends at the chateau and find yourself playing hot seat.

“No.”

“Come on! It’s cute!”

“I mean this with all due respect: burn that top.”

Rolling your eyes, you look down at your t-shirt. You’d thrifted it from a shop near the harbour. Born to fish, made to work. You thought it was hilarious, and it was washed and worn-down into comfort. Stretched at the collar and slightly big on your frame, you fell in love. Mimsy? Not so much. 

“It’s funny. I think it’ll go down well,” you tell her, keeping it on. You tuck the front into your pair of shorts before sitting down at your desk. Grabbing your hair brush, you begin taming your hair. 

“This is the first time you’re meeting hot-mechanic-man’s friends and that’s what you’re wearing?” Mimsy says, disapproval heavy in her voice. “God, you really are lost without me.”

Mimsy had dubbed JJ ‘hot-mechanic-man’ after you recounted the story from two nights ago, when your car decided to call it quits on some random country road. All you’d done was tell her his name and that he was from the Cut, and she’d stalker master-minded her way to his Instagram. It was just as you had pictured it to be. Snaps of him surfing, some shirtless (score), and photos of him smoking. His friends were on there too. You’d counted it as homework for tonight in your sleuthing. John B with a head of brown-ish hair, curled and fairly long; Kiara with a brimming smile and ‘save the turtles’ branded backpack; Pope with his awkward grin which did not match his well-toned body. They seemed fun from the photos.

There was a video on his Instagram which you think Mimsy might have watched fifteen or so times. It was of JJ shot-gunning a beer with John B, stood in a yard beside a campfire. You’d watched it too, eyes fixated on his bobbing Adam’s apple, and promptly clicked out of the video. So, despite your teasing, you were grateful for Mimsy’s talents. 

“How’re you getting there? Parents giving you a ride?”

“I’ll skate,” you say. 

Mimsy nods. “Is it a good skate scene out there?”

“S’alright,” you shrug. Flashing her a smile through the camera, you say, “would be better if you were here.”

“Yeah, well, most things are,” she jokingly returns. The smile that follows is solemn. The two of you missed each other like crazy. 

Mimsy looks past the camera into a mirror and continues working glitter onto her eyelid. It sparkles against her tanned skin. She's going out tonight to your usual haunt. Fake IDs got you into a social-club style bar in your local area, where most of your friends went. You missed the smell of liquor that clung to the walls and that uncomfortable tackiness of the floors. 

“You nervous about meeting his friends, then?”

“I guess,” you say. “Kinda nervous about meeting him again.”

“Yeah, hot guys will have that effect on you,” Mimsy returns with a cheeky grin. 

Rolling your eyes, you go to fire something back but get interrupted by a crackled yell through the speaker. Mimsy turns around in her chair, towards her door, and hollers back to her mother in Spanish. 

“Pol el amor de Dios,” she mumbles as she turns back to the camera. “Sorry, babes. Gotta go.”

“Have fun!” you grin. 

“Oh, you too,” she returns with a telling wink. Then she clicks off the screen. Your room is unnaturally quiet without her voice and company.

Checking the time, you get to your feet, pull on a pair of beat-up Reboks, and grab your bag and penny board. Jogging down the stairs of the two-story home, you call out to your parents. Your dad mumbles his reply just as you slip out the door. You take off down the street and head towards the address JJ text you. Your backpack is heavy with beer cans and unopened chips, and your cased digital camera. It felt wrong to leave your house without some form of camera: polaroid, digital, disposable. You were attached like a child to a safety blanket. 

As you pull onto the road which supposedly leads up to John B’s house, the amount of tarmac depletes. Making the rest of the way on foot, you’re only semi-cautious as you start down a dirt trail to an old fish shack that’s only just visible through overgrown shrubs and trees. The echo of energetic chatter which carries to you calms your worry. You round the corner to find JJ stood on top of a tree stump, arms expanded as he tells a story. When his eyes catch yours, he stops mid-sentence and jumps down. 

“Yo! You made it!”

The rest of the gang turns as JJ bounds over to you. He grabs you by the shoulders and coaxes you into the gathering. 

“This is the girl I was telling you guys about,” he says to his friends. 

They nod, wave and smile their greetings. JJ stands behind you, hands planted on your shoulders, and announces your name like you’re visiting royalty. 

“That’s John B, Kiara and Pope,” he introduces. You think you do a good job acting like you’ve never seen any of them before. 

"You're the damsel in distress JJ's been telling us about?" Kiara asks.

Laughing, you say, "that's not how I'd describe myself but sure."

The group smiles. John B nods down at the penny board you’re carrying. “You skate?”

“No, no, I just carry it around for street cred,” you dryly return. Pope sniggers. 

“See! Told you she was funny!” JJ says. He makes his way to the beer cooler. “Beer or seltzer?”

“Beer,” you reply.

He tosses a can to you like he did at the garage. You catch and crack it open, and then take the empty lawn chair beside Kiara. She’s sitting crossed legged, nursing a bottle. The only lighting comes from the porch behind you. Everyone is sat in a wonky circle, lounging in their various seats. JJ has claimed the hammock. Chickens coo in a run not far from the group. The marsh water near John B’s home soothingly laps at the land. Crickets and owls accompany the quiet hum of music playing from a beat-up Bluetooth speaker. 

“You came at the perfect time,” Kiara tells you. “JJ was just telling us a very interesting story.”

“Thank you, for that,” he replies, gliding past the almost-insult. “As I was saying, Priss snuck outta the party and nobody knows where she's at, right? Then, I'm heading out and guess who I fuckin' see her mackin' on? Fuckin' Bradley G.”

"You're so full of shit," John B snorts, shaking his head.

"I swear on my life! I swear on my God blessed grave, Priss and Brad G hooked up at that keggar the other night!"

You glance at JJ's friends and nobody seems very convinced.

"You're not allowed to go to parties unsupervised anymore," Pope says in a matter-of-fact manner.

"Shut up, Pope. Like you ever go to parties anyway," JJ mutters before taking a hefty swig of his drink.

Rolling her eyes, Kie looks to you. “Anyway. JJ says you’re new to Kildare?”

“Yep,” you reply. 

“Where abouts you living? On the Cut?”

“Yeah, about ten minutes from here, actually,” you say. “Thanks for letting me hang with you guys by the way.”

“Course,” she smiles. 

“Oh!” You suddenly remember your bag. Delving in, you produce two large bags of chips. “I brought snacks and drinks too.”

John B gets up and gladly takes the beers from you, placing them in the cooler with thanks. Kie tosses a bag of chips to JJ before opening the other, offering it around.

For a while there’s little chatter as you all relax. Kie hums along to the Bob Marley song that plays and Pope reads. John B’s head is reclined back, eyes shut, and a cloud of smoke sometimes billows out from the hammock cocoon JJ’s placed himself in. It’s reminiscent of how your friends used to be back in Vancouver. Chilled and cool, no pressure. 

JJ breaks the quiet with a groan, shifting to sit up. “A'right. I’m bored. Let’s play a game or something.”

“Not strip poker again,” Pope demands. 

“Oh come on! Why not!?” JJ protests. 

Kie rolls her eyes. “Because you’re a card shark.”

“And because you always end up getting your dick out,” John B tags on. You snort into your can. 

“Alright, alright, what then? I can’t be arsed setting up beer pong,” JJ grumbles, plopping himself down in a seat just opposite you. 

“What about hot seat?” you offer. The group looks to you. 

“Hot seat?”

“Yeah, it’s when someone sits down in a chair and they’re grilled for five minutes by the group. Any questions, no rules. If they don’t wanna answer, they drink,” you explain. “It’s fun.”

“I’m down,” Kie shrugs. 

“Me too,” Pope agrees. John B nods. 

JJ gets up, grabbing another abandoned seat (I mean, are these things multiplying?) and placing it in view of everyone, mimicking that of a courtroom layout. 

“Alright, who’s first?” he asks. After a round of highest-lowest, Pope winds up in the hot seat. He shifts nervously as Kie readies her timer. 

“Ready? Go!”

With that, an influx of questions follow. They range in severity: some joking and trivial and others bordering on existential. Pope drinks only once when asked if he’s into anybody, and before more prying can follow, the timer goes off. 

“Now you get to choose who goes next,” you explain, somewhat giddy with the others. 

“John B, you’re up,” Pope prompts. They swap seats and the group eggs the brunette on as he steels himself for questioning. The timer starts and the questions begin. 

“Blow job or hand job?”

“Blow job,” John B answers JJ. 

“Dogs or cats?”

“Dogs.”

“Do you think the Royal Merchant is real?”

“Damn straight,” John B replies. You frown. Royal Merchant? 

“Hottest girl in the county?”

John B deliberates. When he seemingly can’t decide, he takes a drink. More silly questions follow, most of which stem from JJ, and the group starts to crack up. The alcohol helps, easing everyone out of any boundaries. When John B’s round finishes, it’s followed by Kiara. She takes a joking bow before hopping into the seat. She’s calm and collected under their scrutiny. Rolls her eyes at JJ’s prying queries and entertains your own curious questions. From the way the group answers, and what they answer, you gain a better sense of their personalities. JJ is the next one up. He throws his hands up as he walks over, as if he’s heading into a boxing ring. He then man-spreads in the seat, shorts hitching up his muscular quads, and vapes as Kiara resets the timer. As your eyes skim up and down his body, they return to his face to find him watching you, amused. 

“Timer’s going,” Kiara says. You snap your eyes away from his.

“Favourite sex position?” John B asks. 

“Damn, that’s a tough one,” JJ replies. His finger swipes his lip almost tauntingly as he deliberates. You’re shamelessly intrigued. “Toss up between doggy and missionary.”

“Weed or beer?”

“What!? That’s evil!” JJ argues. “Weed, I guess.”

“Surfing or fishing?”

“Surfing. No! Fishing. No, no, wait…Can I choose both?”

You chorus with the others: “drink!”

He does as he’s told, swigging back his can. Nods when he’s done to prompt another question. 

“If you could travel somewhere in the world, where would you go?” you ask.

JJ looks to you. His answer comes quick. “Anywhere. Fuck it - everywhere! I’d go to Mexico, and then Brazil, and then Argentina, and then I’d go to the Caribbean islands to see what’s happening there. And then Japan and China and all those places, and then a little backpacking stint around Europe and stuff. Finish off in Africa with the elephants and shit.”

The group hums their approval. As you glance around, you get the sense none of them have been very far. Neither had you. The farthest you’d ever been was North Carolina. Your family had never ventured out of Vancouver before; the only reason your parents had settled on North Carolina was because of your dad’s ties. He was born here and grew up not far from Kildare, in Wilmington. You think he might have been chasing nostalgia when he announced that you were all moving to Kildare. 

“You into anyone right now?” Pope asks. 

“Why? You offering yourself up?” JJ teases. Pope rolls his eyes, mumbling jerk under breath. “Yeah, I am.”

“Who?” Kie prompts, curious. 

JJ’s eyes flash back to you and a telling smirk sneaks onto his face. “She already knows who she is.”

The group’s low whistles and ‘oo’s aren’t the only cause for your flushing. JJ’s stare is too. It flits down your figure tactfully before returning to your eyes, smirk only wider. You clear your throat, press your legs together and sip your beer. The timer goes off. 

“Who’s up?” John B asks JJ.

“New girl,” JJ replies, clearing the seat for you to take his place. You gladly do so, laughing at the applause and whoops that come from the others. 

“Do your worst,” you grin, squiffy from the beers.

Kiara starts the timer and the gang comply with your request. 

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?” 

You bark out a laugh at Pope’s question. “Shit, starting off heavy. Um…Crashed my friend’s bike.”

“As in push-bike?”

“As in dirt bike,” you cringe. “Brand new dirt bike.”

“Damn, that is rough,” John B chuckles. 

“Thing you like the most about yourself?”

“We talking physically or...?”

“Intellectually,” Kiara clarifies. 

“And physically,” JJ happily tags on. 

“Physically? My wrists, I guess. Don’t ask, I know that’s weird,” you laugh. “And intellectually…” Your eyes downfall to the grass ahead as you ponder. “Maybe my faith in others? I always try and see the best in people.”

Kiara nods, content with your response. 

“What about the thing you dislike most about yourself? Intellectually, that is,” Pope wonders. 

Your smile twists. “My faith in others.”

It was a double edged sword: you’d learnt that the hard way. You wash down the memories with a swig of beer. 

“Body count?”

The sudden change in tone makes you laugh.

“You can’t just ask a girl her body count!” you exclaim through your giggles. JJ exaggerates his shrug. 

“Why the hell not!? Anything goes right?”

You shake your head with a smile. As you sip your drink, you stare JJ down. 

“Alright, favourite sex position then,” Kie says.

You comply with that question. Grinning, you say, “cowgirl. Or reverse cowgirl. Either, really.”

John B whistles as Kiara teases, "okay, girl, okay."

“If you had to hook-up with anyone here, who would it be?” JJ asks. 

Laughing, you look to the sky as you toss back your head. “I met most of you guys like two hours ago!”

“Going off first-impressions, then,” JJ says. You can hear the grin in his voice. 

There’s an obvious answer, at least to you. It’s the blonde who you’ve spent the whole night trying not to stare at. His rugged handsomeness and bedroom eyes mixed with the sheen of daytime sweat and sunscreen that settled on his skin, bathing him in beauty...Fuck, it’s not fair people like that exist. You want to know the recipe God used to make him. Want to keep it to yourself so he can’t make it anymore.

Fixing your posture, you train your eyes on JJ. Then, you take a long, long sip of your drink. Kiara laughs under her breath with John B. You swear you see JJ’s demeanour darken. It’s like a game of who can break first. In the end, it’s you, thanks to the surprise of the timer. 

“That’s time…”

“John B. Get your butt back in this chair,” you say, getting to your feet.

He does as asked whilst you return to your old spot. When you glance up, you find JJ watching you. There’s a shadow of a smile on his lips and a barely-there expression on his face, but you can’t decipher what either means. There’s something uncomfortably familiar about it though. Reminds you of the same type of smile you saw almost a year ago, back in Vancouver, on a different guy's features. You look away and wash it down with your drink.

The game eventually dies down after two more rounds, without you or JJ returning to the hot seat. By now everyone is bordering on drunk.

The energy has amped up and the atmosphere is upbeat. As Kie, Pope and John B fall into a loud debate about something or other, JJ finds the spot next to you. He nudges your leg with his. 

“You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you smile. “Thanks for inviting me along tonight.”

“Course. You thinking you might a Pogue?”

“Maybe, maybe,” you reply non-committedly. You take another sip of your beer. 

“Look, uh, I’m sorry if I weirded you out at all tonight, with all the hot-seat things,” JJ randomly says. 

Frowning, you look at him. “It didn’t weird me out. I told you that at the garage, didn’t I? That it doesn't bother me?”

“Yeah, but, after tonight…Just don’t want to make you feel weirded out around me,” he replies. 

It’s sweet that he cares about that. JJ seems the kind who talks first and apologies later. Whilst you know half of it's joking, you appreciate him checking that you’re comfortable with it. You’d had flirty guy friends before. Hell, you had flirty girl friends too. Mimsy, to name one. Maybe the different thing here was that you wouldn’t exactly turn JJ down. It wasn’t him that was keeping you at bay.

“Nah, you’re good,” you say. Glancing down, you watch your sneakers fidget in the grass. “I just, uh…I just have a lot going on right now and I don’t wanna jump into anything. Even if it’s casual, you know? At least not until I figure things out a bit more and get settled.”

It’s only half of the truth. There was something deeper holding you back. You could feel it now, creeping up behind you, always looming since December.

But you just met JJ. He didn’t owe you anything the same way you didn’t owe him. And trauma dumping isn’t the most certifiable way to make friends. 

“Nah, I get it,” JJ hums, nodding. “Sides, if you’re gonna be one of us, we have rules.”

“I’m sorry, you have rules?” you snigger, looking to him. 

JJ laughs. “Alright, alright, I know it sounds intense but hear me out! They’re to keep the peace and stuff. Keep us together.”

“That’s sweet. I, too, often trap people into friendships with rules,” you sardonically return. JJ nudges your leg away in joking disapproval. You laugh. “Go on, then. What are these rules? Should I get a notebook or…?”

“Alright, rule number one: no pogue on pogue macking.”

“Macking?”

“Kissing. Hooking up. That sorta thing,” he explains. 

Pursing your lips, you nod. “Guessing that came about after your collective balls dropped and you realised Kiara’s hot?”

JJ doesn’t speak but his silence is answer enough. You laugh. A particular outburst from Pope catches your joint attention. John B and Kiara fall into hysterics and you smile at their joy. It distracts JJ from further rule-telling. Reaching down into your backpack that’s nestled under your seat, you fish out your camera and settle it on the trio. You snap a few shots. They’ll look perfect with a black and white filter. JJ watches you flick through them. 

“You a photographer or something?”

“Kinda,” you reply. “I do it for fun, mostly.”

“Wanna take one of me?” It seems a rhetorical question.

Chuckling, you lift the camera and snap a shot of a grinning JJ. In one hand he holds up his drink and in the other he makes a surfer symbol. It’s cute. Shows his dimples and crowsfeet by his eyes. It reminds you why you were so infatuated by him at the kegger. The way the camera paints him is like a Monet. Before you can protest, JJ takes the camera from you and turns it. You complain as he snaps a shot: it feels unnatural being on this side of the lens. You snatch it back. 

“Dickhead.”

“What? You look cute! Especially in that shirt - I fucking love that.”

You try to hide your fluster by placing your camera back. JJ gets to his feet. Offering out a hand with a smile, he helps you up. The casual touch somehow feels like you're shaking on something. An agreement, to be simply friends, at least for now. So, passing a smile and naturally retracting your hand from his, you follow him to the others.

“What we talking about?” JJ asks.

“Oh, shit! You guys have got to hear this story!” Kiara struggles out.

They all shuffle to make space for you and JJ. John B wordlessly offers you another can whilst Pope recounts his tale. As you settle into laughter with the others, cracking up at JJ’s teasing of his awkward friend, you find yourself happy with the thought of becoming a Pogue.

read part three here!

taglist:

@princessuki21 | @psyches-reid

[multifandom-gif]

KIARA CARRERA & JJ MAYBANK in OUTER BANKS, 4x04 “The Swell” 🥹