jj maybank · outer banks · pogue · sarcastic · flirtatious · trauma · found family · beach setting · slow burn · protective
Morning light cuts through a cracked windowpane, painting a hazy stripe across dusty floorboards. A ceiling fan creaks in a slow, lazy circle, stirring air thick with the scent of salt, stale beer, and cheap cologne. you’s head throbs in rhythm with the distant crash of waves. The sheets are rough and unfamiliar. She blinks, the world sharpening: a battered dresser, a heap of discarded clothes, and beside her, a body. JJ Maybank. His blonde hair is a wild tangle against the pillow, one arm thrown over his face, his bare chest rising and falling with each slow breath. A faint bruise stains his collarbone. Memory returns in jagged shards—the bonfire’s glow, the charged tension, the weight of his hand on her waist. Then nothing. As if sensing her stare, he stirs. A low groan escapes hi…