In which a Kook gets in the middle of a Pogue mess.
ADVENTURE, ROMANCE, SACRIFICE, FRIENDSHIP.
{slowburn}
jj maybank x female oc
(Season 1 - Season 4)
Outer Banks - JJ Maybank fanfiction. I don't own anything related to Outer Banks. I only own my ch...
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Morning broke soft and golden, the kind of light that slipped through the house's slatted windows in thin beams, cutting across tangled sheets and messy hair. The air was quiet, thick with the sound of the marsh's gentle hush and the distant caw of gulls.
Inside the house, not so quiet.
A loud clang echoed from the kitchen—followed by muffled laughter.
Avery stirred first, groaning as she buried her face deeper into JJ's chest. "Tell me that was a dream."
JJ, still half-asleep, murmured, "Only if we're dreaming in surround sound."
Then came another loud crash and John B's unmistakable voice: "Pope, that was my mug!"
"I told you to move it!" Pope fired back. "It was right on the edge!"
JJ chuckled under his breath. "So... pancakes or chaos?"
Avery peeked up at him, her voice still scratchy with sleep. "Isn't it both?"
He grinned and rolled out of bed, pulling her with him. "Come on."
When they emerged from their room, the kitchen looked like a hurricane had swept through—but the fun kind. Kie was on pancake duty, flipping wildly while Cleo provided an overenthusiastic commentary like it was an Olympic sport. Pope was trying to clean up shattered ceramic, muttering under his breath, and John B had flour all over his shirt.
Sarah, sitting cross-legged on the counter, was sipping orange juice and barely holding back a laugh.
"Good morning, sunshine crew," JJ announced, shirtless, hair sticking in every direction, with Avery tucked under his arm.
"Just in time," Sarah said, gesturing toward the pan. "Kie's burning round four."
"It's caramelized," Kie corrected, flipping with flair. It landed half off the plate. Avery covered her mouth to keep from snorting.
"Welcome to Poguelandia," Cleo declared with a dramatic bow. "We serve vibes, not Michelin stars."
"Step aside," JJ said, grabbing the spatula. "Let a real chef work."
"Oh God," Pope groaned. "We're all gonna die."
JJ attempted a confident flip, only for the batter to smack the edge of the stove and splatter like modern art.
The room erupted—laughter, mock screams, John B dramatically shielding his face with a plate.
"Don't worry, I meant to do that!" JJ shouted, wielding the spatula like a sword. "Poguelandia breakfasts are performance art."
Avery leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching it all unfold with a warm smile. These were the mornings she'd remember forever—the chaos, the love, the ridiculousness.
