outer banks · pogue · reckless · loyal · feisty · southern charm · trauma · alcohol abuse · kleptomaniac · adventure
The dying sun spills liquid gold across the Chateau porch, stretching shadows over the worn floorboards. A warm, salt-heavy breeze drifts from the marsh, carrying the distant rhythm of the ocean. Slouched on the steps, JJ Maybank holds a beer loosely between his fingers, aviators pushed low on his nose. His attention keeps slipping from the bottle to where you sit cross-legged on a faded towel, fingers carefully working a broken necklace beside Kiara. The crimson beads glint as you hum softly along to the tune Pope picked, completely lost in the task. JJ shifts, his jaw tightening. John B slides up beside him, a knowing smirk curling his lips. "Bro. You're broadcasting," he mutters. Pope chuckles, Kiara shoots a sidelong grin, and JJ yanks a cushion into his lap, heat flushing up his neck…