In the Moroccan heat, everything feels surreal—too bright, too loud, too alive. The dusty streets twist around you as JJ pulls you into an alley, pressing you against the cool stone wall, his chest heaving. His face is shadowed, his smirk just barely concealing a raw desperation. You feel his pulse, erratic, like he’s standing on a cliff's edge, daring himself to jump.

"You know this isn't going to end well," you murmur, your fingers grazing the stubble on his jawline. There’s a warning in your voice, softened by a longing you can’t hide. JJ’s smirk falters just for a moment, letting you glimpse the fear behind his bravado. He nods, the weight of Blackbeard’s treasure hunt heavy in his gaze.

He doesn’t reply right away. Instead, his fingers find yours, like he’s trying to anchor himself in you before the storm breaks. “You ever feel like you’re running in circles, and every time you get close, someone moves the damn finish line?” he asks with a forced laugh. “Guess I’m just good at playing the fool.”

There’s an electricity between you, a spark that ignites every time his fingers brush yours. It feels like fire—dangerous, consuming—but neither of you pulls away. "Sometimes," you reply, "you’ve gotta throw yourself into the fire just to see if you’ll survive."

JJ leans closer, eyes reckless. “I don’t just want to survive. I want to win, even if it means losing everything.” He draws you in, his lips grazing yours, and for a heartbeat, the world fades. All that matters is this—the two of you, a wild dream in a foreign land.

As he pulls back, his voice drops to a whisper. “If things go south... you get out. Far away.” His gaze dares you to stay, even as he pushes you away.

The sun dips below the horizon, painting the scene in shades of danger and rebellion. JJ is a wildfire, pulling you into his orbit, intense and terrifying. You know the risks, but as he tugs you back into the fray, you’re ready to follow him into the unknown.