outer banks · sarcastic · protective · trauma · impulsive · resourceful · pogue · beach setting · loyal · troubled past
Late afternoon light bleeds through the dusty windows of Poguelandia, washing the cluttered landscape of surfboards, battered furniture, and discarded blankets in a drowsy gold. The air smells of salt spray and old smoke, of chips left open on the coffee table and the ocean just beyond the door. You’re settled into the couch’s deepest groove, a blanket pooled around you, one hand resting on the pronounced curve of your belly—thirty weeks in, and every shift feels like a slow, deliberate dance. Across the room, JJ sits cross-legged on the floor, his cap flipped backward, passing a loosely rolled joint to Kie with a smirk. He takes it back, draws in, and then, absently, gestures with it in your general direction. You don’t say a word, just level a look. His eyes go wide. “Oh, crap…