Rafe was a busy, busy man. He was the CEO of a company so he was constantly busy. He still had to take care of his little sister Wheezie, but with his busy schedule he just couldn’t!
which is where you came in. Rafe hired you to babysit Wheezie while he worked his shifts. you only ever had a real conversation with Rafe during the interview. You were so nervous and panting because he just kept gazing at you in ways that made you feel all hot and bothered!
it didn’t help the shirt you wore was basically bursting at the seems! you took it to a dry cleaners the day before but they screwed up. :( Rafe couldn’t keep his eyes off you, palming himself throughout the whole interview. Using all of his willpower to stop from jumping over the table and fucking you right there. his questions were a bit redundant but he needed to keep himself calm. He knew he had to have you, so he hired you on the spot and that was that!
You rarely saw Rafe, only getting a few short glimpses before he left for work in the morning! when your babysitting was over he would come home, pay you, and walk upstairs without a word. it made you a lil upset, did he just not want you anymore? you knew the interview wasn’t just your imagination.
but what you didn’t know is that he did want you. so fucking bad. he had to rush up the stairs so he wouldn’t act on his impulses. but it was just so fucking hard with the skirts you wore and the pretty lashes that made every blink you took look like you were begging.
he had to get away from you as quickly as possible so he wouldn’t ruin what little respect you probably had for him.
eventually you got tired of it and just wanted him, regardless of the punishment. you started calling him Mr. Cameron and pushing him for small talk. everytime he responded you’d look up at him with your doe eyes and hands behind your back. pushing your chest out just a little bit and appearing submissive for him. you knew how men worked!
he got antsy very very quickly. Rafe loved how eager to please you looked, how dumb and fuckable you seemed to get when he was around. but he couldn’t ruin you. touching you in every way he wanted could ruin his reputation, but honestly he didn’t care anymore.
Rafe came home late one day, a hard meeting with an asshole CEO of another company ending in a yelling match, and having to come home just to remember Wheezie was at a friends house.
He thought you’d be gone by now, considering there was nothing left for you to do. but he was so fucking wrong. Rafe walked into the kitchen, looking for his bourbon. after pouring himself a glass, he walked into the dining room just to see you on the floor cleaning up.
the clothes you were in didn’t help, they fit you like a glove and leaved almost nothing to the imagination. you had on a tiny pink skirt, a lacy top with buttons down to the hem, and one of his jackets on.
you looked up, a smirk almost rising to your lips, but you knew you had to keep the act up.
“oh my! ‘m so sorry Mr. Cameron! i was trying to clean up the house for you but i broke a glass. and it was so cold i thought maybe it would be okay if i wore your jacket but i can-“
“shut the fuck up.” Rafe snapped. all patience lost. he took of his coat and unbuttoned his cuffs. you went to stand up but he stopped you.
“did i tell you to get up?” you shook your head, letting it drop back down. “exactly, stay on the fucking floor”
you clasped your hands in your lap, gazing down. Rafe circled around you as if to figure out his next move, while you tried not to make one.
“do you think this is funny? teasing me and practically whoring yourself out just to see if i’ll finally touch you?” you glanced up, wanting to explain yourself but he stopped you.
“eyes down. or you’ll be leaving here high and dry without my hands on you.” you listened to his every word, wanting nothing less than to please him so you could get exactly what you wanted.
Rafe walked over to a chair at the head of the table and sat down. he spread his legs and slouched, allowing yourself to see the bulge poking out of his dress pants. “come here.” he whispered. you hesitated for a second, before moving to stand once more.
“Jesus fucking Christ, how many times do i have to say don’t fucking stand up. i want you to crawl like the needy puppy you are.”
crawling over to him, you tried your best to keep your head down and stay quiet. you whimpered only slightly when you realized how dirty your knees must be.
Rafe lifted your head by placing his thumb under your chin. he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. you moved closer, eager to get more of him, but he didn’t let you.
he shoved you back, landing on your palms with your chest pushed in the air. Rafe slowly unbuckled his pants, pulling off his belt. he stood up and grabbed you with ease, placing you on his lap and sitting down.
“c’mon baby take what you need. i’ll be nice from now on, swear.”
you nodded eagerly, unzipping his pants and pulling him out of his boxers. his tip was a flushed shade of pink, the slightest bit of precum leaking from the head.
completely losing your confident facade from early and stuttering only slightly you stroked him slowly, watching as his head tilted back in pleasure.
“can i suck you off please? wanna taste you!” you pleaded, cheeks flushed with need.
“nah baby, wanna cum inside you. just lemme fuck you first and we’ll see about that afterwards.” he mumbled, tapping your hips twice to get you to lift up.
he moved your panties to the side, sliding inside you without any warning. the pain was pleasurable and uncomfortable at the same time.
the first few movements of yours were slow, with him not almost as if he was still hesitant. still gripping onto the last little bit of decorum he had. but the second you let out that sickeningly sweet moan right by his ear, he couldn’t take it anymore.
Rafe grabbed your hips fucking up into without a care in the world. you moaned out loud, echoing through the house. tears welled in your eyes from the sheer pleasure Rafe was giving you. he moved his left hand to arch your back onto his chest, forcing his cock deeper into you.
“n-need you to cum first pup, don’t care about nutting right now. wanna feel ‘ya, fuck, cumming around my tip!”
you could only nod your head, the slightest bit of drool dripping out of your mouth. Rafe watched it fall, licking it up and moaning at the taste of you. he was so fucking gross.
“pleasepleaseplease baby, lemme kiss you”he mumbled against your lips, pressing closer and closer as he awaited your response. you were so fucked out you could barely respond!
he slapped your cheek, thrusting inside you with hard fast strokes, jackhammering into you.
“words baby, use them”
you whined out a yes and pressed your lips to his, surely bruising them.
Rafe snuck a hand around your front to press his thumb to your clit, putting pressure on it before rubbing it in circles. the hand he kept on your hip made its way up to your neck, choking you in the best way.
the difficulty and strain of not being able to breathe fully made your eyes roll to the back of your head. you could barely think with the lack of oxygen reaching your brain. Rafe watched as your eyes glazed over, smirking when he saw you wheeze out a whimper. loosening his grip only slightly, he pulled you closer to him.
“cum for me in the next 10 seconds or you won’t be able to breathe until i’m done.” he whispered in your ear.
starting the countdown, he watched as your hips met his every thrust. by the time he got to 6 you were ready to black out, but that rush of euphoria hit and you spasmed on top of him.
your back arched, a scream combined with a moan wrenching itself out of your throat.
the strength of your orgasm making you slump against him, coaxing his orgasm as he saw how pliant you became against him.
he rubbed your back, kissing up your neck as he let you fall asleep and letting your whole body become relaxed. Rafe patted down your ruffled hair and stayed inside of you, letting his cum plug you up. you were gonna be his forever.
The house was alive with the warm chaos of Thanksgiving. The smell of roasting turkey wafted through the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. Your family filled the rooms with lively conversations, stories, and the occasional outburst of sibling bickering.
Rafe stood at your side, looking every bit the charming Southern gentleman as he greeted your family. His crisp button-up was neatly tucked into dark jeans, and his hair was combed just enough to look presentable but still had that boyish disarray you loved.
For a guy who claimed to be nervous about meeting your family, he was doing an excellent job of keeping his cool.
“You didn’t tell me your mom could cook like this,” Rafe murmured into your ear as you both carried dishes to the dining room. His voice was low, teasing, but the way his hand brushed your lower back as you walked sent a thrill down your spine.
“Behave,” you warned, shooting him a playful glare.
He smirked, but his eyes held a mischievous gleam. “I’m always on my best behavior, sweetheart.”
That was a lie, and you both knew it.
The first time he pulled you aside was when you were refilling your aunt’s wine glass in the kitchen. The others were still in the living room, chatting over appetizers.
“Rafe,” you hissed as his hand closed around your wrist, tugging you into the small pantry just off the kitchen.
“Shh,” he whispered, his lips already brushing yours.
The kiss was quick, soft, and utterly intoxicating. His hands rested on your hips, his thumbs rubbing slow circles that made your knees weak.
“Your mom’s a great cook, but you’re the only snack I care about tonight,” he murmured against your lips, his tone low and suggestive.
You shoved him lightly, a mix of exasperation and giddy laughter bubbling in your chest. “If someone catches us—”
“They won’t.” He kissed you again, longer this time, his lips moving with a confidence that made you forget the world outside the pantry.
The second time was when you were setting the table. He waited until everyone’s backs were turned, then leaned in to whisper something very inappropriate in your ear, making you nearly drop the fork you were holding.
“Rafe!” you scolded, trying to stifle your laughter.
He just grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “What? I’m just thankful for you, babe.”
By the time everyone gathered around the dining table, you were already on edge—not from the family chaos but from the man sitting beside you. Rafe looked innocent enough, nodding politely as your dad asked him about his job and laughing at your cousin’s awkward jokes. But under the table, his hand had found your thigh.
At first, it was a simple, comforting touch. His palm rested there casually, his thumb rubbing soft, lazy circles just above your knee. You shot him a warning glance, but he didn’t move his hand. If anything, his grip tightened slightly, a silent challenge in the way his lips quirked into a smirk.
The conversation at the table flowed, but your focus was entirely on him. Every time he squeezed your thigh or shifted his fingers, your pulse quickened.
When his hand slid higher, you nearly knocked over your water glass.
“You okay, sweetie?” your mom asked, looking at you with concern.
You forced a smile, your face burning. “Yep! Just clumsy.”
Rafe’s fingers stilled, but you knew it was only temporary.
As the meal continued, his touch became bolder. His fingers ghosted over the hem of your skirt, then dipped just beneath it. The light pressure against your skin sent a shiver up your spine, and you clenched your fists on your lap to keep from reacting.
“Pass the rolls, Rafe,” your uncle said, breaking the tension.
Rafe’s hand disappeared as he leaned forward, grabbing the basket and handing it over with a polite smile. He was the picture of innocence, completely unbothered by the storm he was stirring inside you.
The final straw came when Rafe dropped his fork.
“Shit,” he muttered, letting the utensil clatter to the floor. “I got it.”
You froze, your pulse skyrocketing as he ducked under the table. His movements were casual enough to keep suspicion at bay, but the moment his hand wrapped around your ankle, you knew you were in trouble.
“Rafe,” you hissed through clenched teeth, trying to sound firm, but it came out more like a plea.
“Relax,” he murmured, his voice muffled under the table. “Just getting closer.”
The answer came when his lips pressed softly against the inside of your ankle. A rush of heat shot through you as he trailed kisses up your calf, his hands gently parting your knees.
Your grip tightened on the edge of the table as he moved higher, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just above your knee. You tried to keep your breathing steady, but the warmth of his mouth paired with the occasional graze of his fingers was driving you insane.
“Rafe,” you whispered again, more desperate this time.
“Shh,” he murmured, the vibration of his voice against your skin making you bite your lip to keep from reacting. “Mhm… just let me.”
His lips hovered just beneath the hem of your skirt, teasing in a way that made you squirm. His fingers slid further up, ghosting over your panties, and your stomach tightened as he paused, pressing his thumb against the damp fabric.
“So wet,” he muttered under his breath, almost too quietly for you to catch, but the deep tone sent a shiver down your spine.
You opened your mouth to scold him, but before you could, you felt it—a quick, deliberate kiss over the center of your panties.
Your entire body froze, a gasp threatening to escape as he lingered for a split second longer, his breath warm against the fabric.
“Got it!” Rafe’s voice rang out suddenly, cheerful and innocent as he reappeared with the fork in hand.
He slid back into his seat with a smug grin, completely unbothered by the chaos he’d caused.
You shot him a glare, your cheeks blazing with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You taste better than dessert, babe,” he whispered, his voice low and raspy, so only you could hear.
Your stomach flipped, and your thighs pressed together under the table. You refused to give him the satisfaction of a response, but judging by the satisfied look on his face, he already knew what kind of effect he had on you.
By the time dinner ended, you were ready to throttle him—and maybe fuck him senseless. As the family moved into the living room for coffee and dessert, Rafe caught your hand, pulling you into the hallway.
“You’re impossible,” you hissed, your voice low.
“And you love it,” he countered, backing you against the wall. His hands found your waist, and his lips were on yours before you could protest. The kiss was slow, deep, and absolutely intoxicating.
When he pulled back, his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. “Happy Thanksgiving, baby.”
You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “Happy Thanksgiving, Rafe.”
SUMMARY : rafe finally experiences domestic life with you.
WARNING(S) : not proofread
A/N : celebrating 2025 with softish rafe hihi (divider by @roseraris)
WC : 1.1k
masterlist.
one.
"You're doing it wrong."
You look up at Rafe, the shirt still in your hands. He's sitting on the couch, a pile of clothes next to him.
The day’s finally come—you two had to take care of the laundry. That’s how you ended up on the floor, a big basket by your side.
"Enlighten me, then."
Rafe slides down on the floor and takes the fabric from you. "You have to fold it like this," he says, folding it neatly, his face almost screaming ‘bored’.
Sun’s shyly sneaking into the living room, casting a mosaic of lights. All you can smell is the fresh laundry and Rafe's cologne, now that he’s so close. Musk and sandalwood fill the space between you two.
There are no screaming kids outside, only the faint sound of crashing waves from the beach. It feels so… right.
“What?” Rafe’s voice pulls you out of wonder, and heat rises to your cheeks when you realize you've been staring at him the whole time, “Folding clothes is philosophical for you?”
“Asshole." You playfully push his shoulder as he puts the folded shirt on one of the little towers you created. "It's just nice. You know, doing things like this with you."
He shrugs, turning away so that you can't see his face. Too bad you caught the flush creeping up his neck.
"C'mon, admit it!" You press, nudging him slightly.
"Admit what?"
You smile as he furrows his brows, "Admit you like it too!"
Rafe snorts and pulls you into his lap, making your heart flutter, "Fine. I like it. Happy?"
"You have to mean it, Rafe!" you tease, a toothy grin spread on your face.
He rolls his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching as he leans in and captures your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, savoring the sweet taste of cherries on his lips.
When you finally pull away, Rafe's voice comes out not louder than a whisper, "Do you believe me now?"
You rest your forehead against his, a giggle escaping your lips. "Yeah. Maybe I do."
"Good," Rafe says looking over your shoulder, "Because we have a ton of work left."
You groan and bury your face in the crook of his neck. "You're the worst."
two.
You were delighted when Rafe finally agreed to go grocery shopping with you. Such a small thing, but it made you giddy regardless. Usually, he'd just order it straight to your door. It was nice, sure, but you missed the feeling of walking around the isles, looking at the list you made back home, and picking out the products.
That’s how you ended up in this little shop, standing in front of the ice cream fridge. The lights are quietly humming over your head, and the smell of fresh baked goods is lingering from the bakery section. Rafe’s beside you, his gaze set on the different packaging.
“Which one should we get?” he asks.
You sneak a glance at the piece of paper in your hand. “I mean… We technically shouldn’t get any.”
These words make him turn his head to you, a judging look on his face. “You’re no fun.”
“Oh? Well, since you’re such a party girl, pick something out while I go and search for the rest.”
Rafe huffs and you move to the other side of the store, away from the freezing air that pinches your skin. There aren't many people, other than an older lady picking out the best tomatoes and some kids debating on the candy they’ll buy.
Soon enough, your checklist is almost complete.
“Baby,” you hear from behind and you turn around to Rafe carrying three cans of ice cream.
You arch your brows as he puts them in the cart.
“I got a classic, which is vanilla,” he starts, pointing at each one, “Then this one, because you love it, and the peanut butter was new or something. We can try it out together!”
“And when do you plan on eating all that?”
He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer with a proud smirk, “Oh, I’ve already thought about that, baby. We’ll finish the 'Gossip Girl' or whatever it's called—"
You interrupt him, getting on your tiptoes and placing a soft kiss on his cheek.
"See? Groceries are fun, told ya."
Rafe's eyes soften before he chuckles and snatches the list out of your hands. "Maybe. But we have to get the whipped cream first. Oh, we can also get some coke—"
"Well, if you'll pay we can get anything."
Rafe snorts as he pushes the cart, keeping you snug against his side. "Obviously. C'mon!"
three.
The steady rhythm of rain tapping on the open window fills the bedroom. The day's coming to an end, and you finally find a moment for yourself.
You curl up on your bed, hiding between the fluffy blankets and pillows with a book in your hand. The candles on your nightstand flicker softly, the wisps of smoke mixing with the steam rising from the cup nearby.
"Move, please." You hear Rafe mumble as he climbs the bed, an oversized shirt hanging off his body.
He settles, resting his head on your chest, strong arms wrapped around you. Then, he lets out a long sigh, like a puppy after a long day of doing nothing.
You glance down at him—his eyelids flutter, and pout forms on his lips. Your heart softens despite yourself. "The weather drained you out, huh?"
Rafe lazily shakes his head, "Not really."
He isn’t even sure what it is about this moment that soothes him, but he never wants it to end. When he's in your room, the sweet scent of your candles filling up his head, all he wants to do is to lay down with, or rather on you. To feel the warmth of your body, he longs to listen to your voice.
You smile, the silence falling between you feels comfortable. You read through the pages, becoming more invested.
Rafe absentmindedly traces lines on your blanket. He listens to the rain, and it syncs with the steady heartbeat beneath his ear.
"I like this." Before he can think again, the words slip out of his lips, breaking the silence.
You rest the book on him, giggling. "What?"
"Being here with you, Ms. Giggles Mgoo." He raises his head to look at you. There's a flicker in his eyes, and it doesn't come from the flame beside you.
"No way," you tease, and he rolls his eyes, "The Rafe Cameron tells me he likes spending time with me..."
He pouts, and you can't hold your laugh anymore.
You lean in, peppering his nose with quick pecks. Rafe smiles, his cheeks painted in a delicate shade of red.
"You're getting soft, baby." You say between the kisses, and you feel the heat rising to his face under your lips.
"Shut up..."
You press one last kiss, this time to his lips. It's so rare—to see the softer, quieter Rafe that for now only exists here, with you. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.
the music was loud, thick in your chest, and the room was lit up in gold and red like it was trying too hard to be important. you were leaning against the bar, laughing a little too politely at something the guy next to you said — tall, clean cut, some stranger in a button-up who clearly thought he had a shot. he offered to buy you another drink and you nodded, mostly to be nice.
but then you felt it — the shift. that heat crawling up your spine. rafe was watching you.
you looked up and there he was, across the room, eyes locked on yours like he was seconds from losing it. jaw tight. hand clenched around a half-empty glass. he didn’t blink. didn’t move. until he did.
you barely had time to straighten up before he was pushing through the crowd, all quiet fury and sharp edges, his presence swallowing everything around you. he didn’t even glance at the guy. just stepped between you like he belonged there — because to him, he did.
“The fuck’s this?” he asked, voice low but sharp. “you entertainin’ now?”
you blinked, already tense. “Rafe, it’s not—”
he turned to you, that smile on his face — not the good one. not the real one. this one was all teeth and danger. “Nah, it’s cute. didn’t think we were playin’ that game tonight. guess i missed the memo.”
the guy held up his hands, laughing nervously. “Hey, man, relax. i didn’t know—”
Rafe didn’t even look at him. “you do now.”
the guy backed off, and Rafe didn’t say another word until it was just the two of you again. his hand slid down to your waist, possessive, fingers pressing in a little too hard.
“You like the attention that bad?” he asked quietly, leaning in, lips brushing your ear. “you that bored of me already?”
you pulled back slightly, annoyed. “it wasn’t like that.”
“No?” he scoffed, eyes dragging down your face like he was trying to read something underneath it. “he got your number? make you feel special?”
you didn’t answer.
so he grabbed your jaw, not rough, but firm enough to keep your eyes on his.
“Look at me,” he said, voice flat. “i don’t give a shit who talks to you. they don’t touch you. they don’t want you. you understand?”
you nodded, just barely.
his lips brushed your cheek, slow and mocking. “Good. ‘cause next time he even tries? i’m not talkin’. i’m breakin’ something.”
and then, like nothing happened, he smiled. that soft, dangerous, rafe smile. the kind that meant it was over — until it wasn’t. his arm wrapped around your waist, and he guided you through the crowd like he hadn’t just threatened someone for breathing too close.
Summary: JJ wonders why you never go swimming with any of the Pogues. So he takes it upon himself to find out
Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader
Warnings: Fluff, angst, mentions of drowning/death, aquaphobia, mild swearing
Word Count: 3.1k
A/N: Enjoy <3
Masterlist
You peer into the water, watching the bubbles breaking the surface from where Pope had just dove in, nearly landing on John B’s head. You let out a soft chuckle, watching them play like there wasn’t a care in the world. Kiara was further away from the boat with Sarah, waiting for the boys to follow them.
You wondered what it would be like to swim out here again. It would be nice not to feel left out anytime the group wanted to go swimming or surfing, even though it was a feeling of your own making. Your smile faded at the thought.
Suddenly, you feel your body being pulled from the edge of the boat by two strong hands gripping your waist. Just as quickly, your feet are no longer touching the floor of the boat; they’re being swept out from under you. You feel a body pressed to you and look into his eyes, yours wild with fear.
“J, what are you-” you start, grasping at his biceps, struggling against his strong hold on you.
“Better hold your breath, sweetheart,” he says, moving closer to the side of the boat.
You can feel his chest expand as he sucks in his breath of air and takes a step up. “No, JJ, no, put me down!” you scream.
But it was too late.
The two of you were already falling through the air off the side of The Snapper. You held on to JJ as tightly as you could, your stomach dropping farther than the drop off of the boat (which was even more terrifying because this boat was much larger than the HMS Pogue was).
Your body started to drift from JJ’s just before you hit the water, and there was no air in your lungs. You were petrified with fear. The water encompassed you, and you instantly lost JJ. The bubbles from your abrupt entry into the water surrounded you, tickling your skin. You opened your eyes under the water's surface and saw the outline of JJ’s body already making its way back up for air.
But you were still sinking. Why were you sinking? What the hell was happening right now? You opened your mouth to scream for help, instantly regretting your decision. Water flooded your airways, seeping to the very bottom of your lungs. Your eyes were burning, and you didn’t know where you were.
Is this what drowning felt like? You fill up with water like a sponge until there’s nothing left for you to take in. You tried to move your arms in any direction you could, trying to move your body in any direction. The water was thick like honey, keeping your limbs stagnant. But you still weren’t moving fast enough. You weren’t going to make it to the surface. There was no time left.
The corners of your vision started to blur before beginning to go dark. Your limbs were weightless, floating aimlessly in the water. You felt no pain, no fear. Your body was shutting down. You felt your body jolt upwards suddenly, just before your vision completely faded.
Before your eyes are even open, you’re coughing up water. Aggressively. Your lungs can’t fill up with air fast enough, and the water clogging your airways going in the opposite direction wasn’t helping. Your gag reflex kicked in, and you rolled your head to the side to try to keep yourself from drowning. Again.
“Oh my God,” you heard someone mumble. There were a few sighs, even a 'thank God'. You finally opened your eyes, but everything was blurry. You were blinded by the sun's reflection on all the white surrounding you. You closed your eyes, unable to see anything anyway.
From the gentle swaying you felt, you were back on the boat. Thank God. You rolled onto your back again and took deep breaths, still coughing every few breaths.
You opened your eyes again, seeing a blond mop of sea-kissed curls blocking the sun from your view. You could see the sun rays poking out in a few different directions past his head. It almost looked like a halo around his head. JJ was hovering above you, his hands placed on either side of your head, his legs straddling your hips. He looked into your eyes, worry written all over his countenance. It pained you to see him so upset.
“What the hell happened?” someone asked. Pope. You recognized his hoarse voice instantly. He was somewhere by your head, out of your field of vision.
“They jumped in together, and y/n just never came back up,” Kie said somewhere to your left. You turned your head toward her, seeing how worried she was.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, you know,” you said, trying to relieve the apparent tension surrounding you. Pope sighed as he walked to the back of the boat.
“Apparently, we can,” John B retorted. He was standing next to Kie. Sarah was cradled into his side and smacked his chest lightly, even though she was smiling.
“You never said you can’t swim,” JJ muttered. You turned your attention back to the blonde boy still blocking the sun from you. You gave him a confused look, not processing what he just said.
“You never told us. Why the hell wouldn’t you tell us something like that?” He asked, his voice getting louder. He moved himself off of you, allowing the sun to blind you in his absence. You squinted and attempted to sit up. Sarah jolted forward to help you. JJ was pacing, running his fingers through his hair. “If I would have known that, I wouldn’t have jumped into the water with you!” He shouted.
“JJ..” you started, but he wasn’t stopping.
“You could’ve died! You were just at the bottom of the marsh and-”
“It’s okay, J-” John B started, placing a hand on his chest. JJ brushed him off and shook his head. He grabbed his hat from the floor of the boat and fixed it the way he does so effortlessly. You looked up to try and meet his gaze, but he was looking anywhere but at you. He shook his head again and moved to the boat's cockpit.
You looked down at your hands in your lap, unsure what to do. Guilt washed over you. JJ started the engine and did quick work to get the boat going. John B patted your shoulder and smiled before walking towards the back of the ship. Kie wrapped a towel around your shoulders, goosebumps blanketing your skin as the salty marsh air whipped around you. Sarah and Kie sat on either side of you, wrapping their arms around you. They were keeping you safe in their own way.
You looked back up, trying to catch JJ’s eye, but he was looking out on the water, not so much as glancing in your direction. His jaw was clenched tightly, unwavering as he maneuvered the boat through the marsh.
You felt terrible. Guilt was seeping out of your every poor. You felt nauseous. And your diaphragm hurts, like the feeling you have after you’ve had hiccups for an hour.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before,” you whispered to the girls. Kie scoffed, resting her elbow on her knee and placing her hand under her chin.
Sarah rubbed your back. “It would have been nice to know,” she said lightheartedly.
“I just figured you were scared of sharks or something crazy. Even though they are very gentle creatures,” Kie added. You laughed (or attempted to). It quickly became a cough with even more water coming out of your lungs. You wiped at your mouth with the towel. When you looked up, JJ’s eyes were boring a hole into your skull. He looked away when he noticed you were staring back at him. It was going to be a long ride back to Poguelandia.
You were almost dry by the time JJ had the boat docked. Pope had made his way back to the front of the boat to check on you. He checked your pupils and made sure you didn’t have a concussion. He confirmed that your chances of surviving were almost 100% (because, of course, we could die at any given second).
Everyone unloaded off the boat, JJ being the first to take off once everything was tied down. He walked up the ramp to the shop and sat behind the counter. He took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair again before putting it back on. He was pacing back and forth, checking on random things in the small store space. Kie waited up for you as everyone made their way back to the house.
"I'll catch up," you told her, glancing at the shop and back to her. She gave you a sympathetic smile before turning and following the others. You unwrapped the towel from around your shoulders and laid it across the railing leading up to the shop. You walked up slowly while making sure not to sneak up on him.
But he knew you were coming.
JJ had his back turned to you, looking out on the water now. You could see his chest moving quickly. His hands were resting on the railing. He used his hands to pull his body forward, bringing his mouth to rest on his hands.
“J, I’m so sorry,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. You stared at the back of his head, trying to read his body language.
“I don’t understand,” he said quietly. He shook his head and straightened his back, turning around to face you. You stared at his face. He no longer looked angry. He was upset, eyes red and bloodshot. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes.
This wasn’t carefree JJ Maybank, reckless and altruistic until the day he died. This was JJ, vulnerable and terrified, cracking open right before you. All you wanted to do was rush up to him and hug him. Tell him that it was all just a fucked up joke and that he didn’t need to be worried. He could go back to being his energetic self and not worry about you anymore.
But you knew it was time. It was time to tell him the truth.
You sighed deeply. Before you could form the right words to start, JJ huffed and put on a stern face. He wiped aggressively at his cheeks, thinking that your sigh was a sign that you weren’t going to justify yourself, that you thought he was being stupid and overreacting.
No, he wasn’t about to stick around for that. He started to walk away, trying to brush past you and get away as quickly as possible.
You caught his wrist before he could get too far. “Stay,” you practically whispered. You held his wrist in your hand. JJ refused to look at you at that moment. You took in a shaky breath. “Please,” you begged. JJ sighed and threw his head back. He slowly turned around, and you let go of his wrist. He kept his gaze lowered to the ground, leaning against one of the wooden beams, studying a knot in the floorboard. When you examined his face, you could see the fallen tear trails. Your heart broke in half.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you started. He still didn’t look up. You could see his nose twitch as he sniffled. You continued anyway. “I should have said something months ago. Hell, I should have said something the first time we went out to surf the surge. But I was scared you guys would judge me.” You paused, still trying to look him in the eye. You moved closer to him, your face inches away from his. You gently lifted his chin with your hand, forcing him to look at you. His eyes were red, and his jaw was tight. You moved your hand to cup his cheek. You felt him lean into your touch slightly. “But…I know how to swim, J,” you said slowly. JJ’s eyes went wide, a multitude of emotions wracking through his brain. He started to pull away from your hand unknowingly. You quickly dropped your hand from his cheek and turned your back to him. You thought he was rejecting your touch, his anger unforgiving. The guilt was engulfing you, swallowing you whole. You felt terrible.
There was an uncomfortable pause, the silence deafening. You could hear your own heartbeat threatening to beat out of your chest.
“What happened then? Why didn’t you swim?” He asked you. JJ followed you to the edge of the shop where he stood earlier, staring out into the horizon. You just shook your head. Now, it was your turn to avoid eye contact. JJ was leaning on the railing to your left, and you focused on everything and anything to your right.
“When I was seven, my dad took me out in the marsh. A quick fishing trip, nothing fancy. Some daddy-daughter time. But it all went so wrong. My dad, he…” you stopped, choking on your words. You swallowed harshly. JJ stared at you intently, slowly putting the puzzle pieces together. “I was stuck out there for three days by myself,” you whispered. Realization dawned on him.
You were the Marsh Girl.
Rumors still went around about the Marsh Girl. People said that her dad went out there and killed both of them, leaving the boat behind as the only evidence. Or that the girl pushed him off the boat and claimed that it was an accident.
The news said a girl was found after three days of being out there, but the name was never released, so of course, kids made up stories. JJ’s worry and anger melted away. He didn’t dare move closer to you, afraid that the slightest movement might shatter you into dust, letting you fall between the gaps of the dock and taken away by the murky water below. Instead, you turn to face him, building up the courage to look at him when you say this.
“My dad...he must have had a heart attack or something and lost his balance. I was too young to remember all of the details. But when he went over the side of the boat, he took me into the water with him. He almost drowned me," you took in a shaky breath, reliving the memories in a flash second. "When we jumped into the water today…I don’t know what happened to me. I saw you going back up to the water's surface, and I was just…stuck. I wondered if it was how my dad felt when he went into the water. He could see me getting to the surface but couldn’t make it back up himself,” you stated calmly. You close your eyes, unable to look at JJ. Another second, looking at his shattered face, and you would break yourself. “J, I know how to swim.”
“What?” he didn’t mean to say it; it slipped out before he could stop it. JJ mentally smacked a hand over his mouth. He studied your face to see if you were messing with him.
“I can swim,” you repeated.
This whole time, JJ thought that he almost drowned you. He had always wondered why you never went into the water with everyone else. He figured it was so that you could keep up on your amazing sunkissed skin or because you didn’t want to get your hair wet. He knew you weren’t that superficial, but it still had crossed his mind. He never in a thousand years would have guessed that this was why you didn’t touch the water.
“y/n, I almost killed you,” JJ said, fear seeping back into his every pore. The thought of losing you, especially at his own hands, was suffocating. He felt a sharp pain in his chest, unable to control his now erratic breathing. Noticing his panic, you closed the distance between the two of you and placed your hands on either side of his face. You used your thumbs to gently wipe away the stray tears that fell from his eyes.
“No, no, J, this is not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“I should have known. I should have just asked you why you didn’t ever swim with us. Lord knows I’ve bothered you enough times about going with me,” he dropped his head again, feeling defeated. You gently pushed his face back up, forcing him to meet your eyeline.
“You had no way of knowing,” you reassured him, smiling a little. You stroked your thumb across his cheekbone and felt him lean into your touch. He closed his eyes tightly.
“The thought of losing you…” he sucks in a jagged breath. He won’t let the thought go. He can’t. The images of your lifeless body floating in the water, replaying over and over again like a bad movie montage. “I was the one who pulled you out of the water. You weren’t breathing, and I-”
You quickly pulled JJ’s face down to yours, connecting your lips gently. You couldn’t think of a better way to ground him. To keep him from spiraling again. He was stiff for only a second, his brain not catching up to what you were doing. Maybe you shouldn’t have done this.
Then his face pressed closer to yours, his lips pushing deeper into the kiss. You smiled into him. JJ’s hand moved to your hips, and he squeezed gently. Your hands slid down to his neck, and you pulled back, seeing JJ's toothy grin. His eyes were still red and puffy, but he was smiling. He was downright giddy, swimming in a wide range of emotions he didn’t understand. But you grounded him.
You were his anchor.
“Would now be a bad time to ask if you wanted to go surfing with me tomorrow?” He asked, teasing. You smacked him on the chest and let out a genuine laugh. JJ pulled you into a tight hug. One that told you he was never letting you go.
From the shore, you could hear the Pogues hooting and hollering, witnessing your very public display of affection. But you didn’t care. Nothing mattered now except the sweet, broken boy before you. Your entire world.
Your anchor.
“Why don’t we go ahead and give them a real show,” JJ whispered in your ear. You squealed as he started to pepper your face with kisses.
A/N: I desperately needed to write something happy after watching season 4 <3 This is unedited, so please ignore any typos or stupid grammatical errors.
Likes, reblogs, and follows are never expected, but greatly appreciated! These let me know I should keep on doing what I’m doing! (:
Please check out this post for useful mental health resources.
