{JJ Maybank x !GN! Reader}
Summary: When Y/N moves to the Outer Banks, you are welcomed by the Kooks, but as time goes on, all you want to do is spend more time with a certain Pogue.
Warnings: Blood, fight scene, & making out
WC: 2k
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The first time you saw him, it was your first bonfire. Pogues and Kooks alike danced around the flame, sometimes in pairs, other times alone. You were drinking a strong liquid from a flimsy plastic cup, and talking, only half heartedly, to Rafe and Topper. Each was trying to impress you in some way, and though their attempts had begun since the day you had arrived, neither would "let you go," as they had said. You knew, however, that neither of them could let the other win.
As the two bickered, you let your gaze wander across the beach, surveying the teens walking over the sandy ground. There were girls in bikinis, despite the chill air, boys with slicked back hair, no doubt trying to impress the others, and some, who you assumed were the Pogues, who looked as if they didn't care about their appearance. The same people, of course, were the ones that looked effortlessly flawless, soft hair and tanned skin, that curved in every way you would want it to.
You looked down at your own clothes, and picked at your hair, remembering how much time you had put into looking like this. It had never felt natural, but the outcome, you had convinced yourself, was always worth it.
When you looked back up at the crowd again, a blond-haired boy caught your eye almost immediately, and you couldn't think of how you had missed him earlier. His skin was perfect, and his smile, you thought, was immaculate. Based on his clothing and worn out boots, you knew immediately that he was a Pogue, but for the first time since you had come to the Outer Banks, you didn't really care.
As he glances your way, probably sensing your eyes on him, you turn back towards Rafe and Topper, who are still arguing. After a couple of moments, you turn back towards him, only to find that his eyes glance back over towards you. You smile and look down, slightly shyly as he notices and when you look back up, he's smiling as well.
The second time you saw him, it was at the country club. You had arrived late in the afternoon with your family, wearing casual clothes that hugged your waist and legs. You were deep in conversation with your mother when you entered the large dining room, but your words caught in your throat when you saw him behind the counter serving drinks.
His uniform made him look even more handsome than before, and you found yourself staring, only snapping back into reality when your mother asked you if you were alright.
"Huh? Oh, yes," you respond, stuttering, and as your family makes their way to a seat by the window, you can see the boy looking at you out of the corner of your eye.
You want to go up to him, ask for a drink, maybe even his name, because you know you're obsessed with this beautiful boy. You want to know more about him, his family and friends, his life, but you stop yourself. Pogues with pogues and kooks with kooks, you think.
Eventually a waiter makes their way over to your table, and everyone orders. When the waiter leaves, conversation continues, but all you can think about is the boy behind the counter.
You are still deep in thought, wondering if he prefers the beach or the woods, when the boy appears, balancing all of your food in his muscled arms. Looking up, you watch him (almost creepily) place a plate down in front of everyone at the table, before making eye contact with you, and setting down your dish.
