Outer Banks Series Rewrite - A JJ Maybank x reader story

Chapter one: Pilot

Warnings (for the whole series): violence (as it is in the show), swearing, mentions of abuse, underage drinking, and smoking, drug use

"The Outer Banks, paradise on earth." I tune out John B's voice, ignoring his 'welcome to the OBX' speech for the camera. He was determined to make a documentary about our lives this summer, though I really didn't know why.

Welcome to the OBX, an island divided in two. You either have two houses or two jobs, that's what John B always says. That blond boy sitting next to me, that's JJ. My boyfriend. He's as local as they come. Latest in a very long line of fishing, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who make their living off the water. Don't tell him I said this but he's the best surfer I know. Mild kleptomaniac and probably a future tax cheat.

The girl across from me is Kiara or Kie. When she's not saving turtles or listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs with us. None of us really know why she's a rich kid after all. Next to her is the brains of our little operation. Pope. Finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship and the smartest kid I know.

The kid in the driver's seat, the one who is paying more attention to his camera than the road, that's John Booker Routledge, but everyone calls him John B. He's kinda like my brother. He and his dad took me in when my family dumped me on their front porch when JB and I were about four. He drives me crazy and he knows it.

And then there's me. Y/N Y/L/N. Little Routledge as JB likes to call me even though I'm four months older than him. Big John disappeared nine months ago at sea, which means JB and I have been on our own since Uncle T split for Mississippi. Everyone insists that Big John is dead but John B refuses to sign the papers until he sees a body.

Social workers have been on our asses nearly every day, trying to force us into foster care. John B and I have managed to avoid them so far.

So this is how our story starts. Me losing nearly all of my second family and a social worker breathing down my neck.

JB and I are probably the only two people in history to say this but thank god for hurricane Agatha.

"Hurricane Agatha continues its steady march towards Kildare Island on the Outer Banks of North Carolina..." JB set the radio on the counter, turning up the volume as we listened for a miracle to keep DCS away.

"Holy shit." I look outside, taking in the dark sky and swirling wind. "JB, I think we found our miracle!" I shout over the storm siren, fishing my phone out of the couch cushions and dialing the number for DCS. "Yeah, I think we're gonna have to reschedule." I blurt into the phone, barely giving the woman time to answer.

John B rips the phone out of my hand, hanging up and dragging me outside. "We gotta surf the storm surge!"

"Are you insane?" I stumble after him, dodging tree branches. "Those aren't surfable waves!"

"Says who?" He laughs. "Come on!" He drags me along, pausing to grab our boards.

I run after him, splashing into the water as the storm rages around us. I paddle after John B, surfing a few waves before the storm starts to pick up its pace. "JB! We gotta get inside!" I shout. John B stares out towards the open water, ignoring me.

"JB!" I shout. "We have to go!" I turn to look at him, my gaze following his extended arm and index finger. My eyes land on a boat, getting tossed around in the storm. "John B, we don't have time to worry about what those idiots are doing, let's go!"

🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌 🏄 🌊 🚌

The morning after a hurricane always feels like something out of a movie. The silence fills the gaps of life, save for the sound of chickens and the occasional shouts from neighbors.