coolrenjun
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“You’re not as scary as you think you are.”
“Fuck off, pledge.”
“Make me, Feyd.”
The one where Feyd accidentally fucks potential-pledge Paul, falls apart, and gets put back together.
Bookmarked by coolrenjun
27 Mar 2026
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Distance, decidely, does not make the heart grow fonder.
Bookmarked by coolrenjun
12 Mar 2026
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JJ has this thing resting on his tongue, and beating through his ears, and scratching at his scalp. It's almost the same eery hissing noise he keeps hearing, except it's convoluted and it's drowning him whole. He doesn't like labels, but he knows what it's called anyways.
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Just another oblivious to full on in love pipeline fic, enjoy the stupid boys!
Bookmarked by coolrenjun
23 Feb 2026
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let the sun beat down upon my face (with stars to fill my dream) by fivecenturiesverse
Fandoms: Outer Banks (TV)
30 Mar 2023
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JJ has always been the wild kid, the jealous kid, the greedy kid. Mostly, he just wants Pope Heyward.
“You flirting with me?” Pope will say sometimes, fluttering his eyelashes.
‘Yes, you fucking idiot’, JJ always wants to yell. John B will be laughing at them over the fire, sand still sun warm beneath the stars. ‘Yes, I have been for a while.’ But instead he moans Pope’s name loudly and pornographically to the waves and John B laughs harder. Or he says, “Yes, babe, I need you, I want you, you’re everything.” Draws his hand up the in-seam of Pope’s shorts just to get his hand smacked. Or he’ll say, “No Pogue on Pogue macking” and Pope will pout and call him a tease.
He never stops though, he never stops the joking or the flirting, or the watching Pope even when he knows Pope sees him watching. That wild wolf kid is still in him and he wants to know how far he can push it. He wants to know how much he can have. Pope makes him greedy, greedy for a touch and a word, anything to spur him on further. He doesn’t know where the joke even ends and begins, he doesn’t know if there’s even a joke, if there ever has been.
Bookmarked by coolrenjun
17 Feb 2026
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JJ didn’t like to think. Every time he had nothing to do but to sit and think, he hated it. It made him angry.
Thinking might not have been as painful if he were someone like Pope, who had the kind of brain to think great thoughts instead of the rotten mush his brain usually produced.Pope was the kind of person who could sit there, half asleep and drunk, and still speak like a damn poet.
It was hypnotizing to listen to, when he himself was drunk and half asleep, this guy go on and on about the inherent selfishness of humanity and “No matter what we do, we’re all bad JJ. We can’t help it.”, It made him sick in some kind of lovely way.
Bookmarked by coolrenjun
17 Feb 2026