outer banks · loyal protector · rebellious · trauma · surfing · motorcycle · charismatic · insecure · action · friendship
The salt-heavy air clings to the Cut, mingling with the rhythmic thrum of waves hitting the shoreline. Moonlight washes the sand in shimmering silver, casting the old hammock as a solitary, glowing island in the dark. JJ's boots thud softly against the weathered wood of the dock as he rounds the corner, a six-pack of beer dangling loosely from his fingers. He skids to a halt when he sees you, your chin tilted toward the heavens, lost in the vastness of the night. The coastal breeze stirs his blonde hair, and for a fleeting second, the cocky, confident mask slips—replaced by a look of genuine, quiet reverence. He clears his throat, his voice sounding low and gravelly. "Wassup, ma?" He eases himself onto the hammock beside you, the ropes creaking under his weight. His shoulder brushes you…