jj was sprawled across the hammock on the chateau porch, one arm hanging off the side while pope argued with kie over some dumb board game rule nobody actually cared about.
you sat cross-legged on the wooden steps, stealing fries out of john b’s carton while pretending not to notice the way people kept looking between you and jj lately.
it had started as a joke.
one stupid joke.
jj had thrown his arm around your shoulder at the boneyard one night and called you “baby” loud enough for half the island to hear, and suddenly everyone decided you were together.
and honestly neither of you corrected them. “you know kelce asked me if we were dating today,” you muttered.
jj snorted from the hammock. “what’d you say?”
“told him you cry after one beer and have severe mommy issues.”
“wow.” he placed a hand over his heart dramatically.
“you do cry after one beer.”
“only emotionally.”
pope groaned. “please stop flirting. some of us are trying to win.”
“jealous?” jj shot back instantly.
you laughed softly, shaking your head.
it was easy with jj. always easy. people saw the touching, the teasing, the way he always looked for you first in every room, and made assumptions.
the pogues especially which was exactly why none of them noticed when your phone buzzed with a text that made your stomach flip.
rafe: outside.
your heartbeat immediately sped up. you stood too quickly. “uh — i gotta go home for a sec.”
kie narrowed her eyes. “at nine?”
“my aunt needs help.”
jj looked suspicious for exactly two seconds before shrugging. “bring me back chips.”
“using me for my body.”
“using you for sour cream and onion, actually.”
you flipped him off affectionately before hurrying down the porch steps. and the second you rounded the side of the house there he was, leaning against his bike in the dark, black tee clinging to his arms, silver chain catching in the moonlight.
Rafe Cameron looked unfairly pretty at night. “you took forever,” he said.
“my friends exist, rafe.”
he grabbed your wrist the second you got close enough, tugging you between his legs where he stood beside the bike. “missed you.”
your face warmed instantly. “i saw you yesterday.”
“still missed you.”
his hands slid around your waist like muscle memory, and god, this was exactly why the rumors about you and jj were so convenient.
nobody suspected a thing because if the pogues found out you were secretly hooking up with rafe cameron? especially jj? absolute disaster. “you know everyone thinks i’m dating jj now,” you murmured.
rafe rolled his eyes immediately. “yeah, heard about that.”
“you jealous?” his jaw ticked which was answer enough and you grinned. “aw.”
“don’t start.”
“you are jealous.”
“i just think he touches you too much.”
you barked out a laugh. “you literally have me pinned against a bike right now.”
“different.”
“how?”
“because you’re mine.”
the words came out low. automatic. like he didn’t even realize he’d said them. your stomach flipped violently. rafe noticed your expression and immediately looked away, muttering, “whatever.”
“rafe.” you reached up, forcing him to look at you again. “that was kinda cute.”
“shut up.” he was blushing. actually blushing. you started laughing so hard he grabbed your face with one hand. “keep laughing and i’m leaving.”
“you adore me.”
“unfortunately.”
then he kissed you ,slow at first.
which nobody would believe if you told them, because rafe cameron acted meaner than he actually was. but with you, he always kissed you like he had something to prove and something to protect at the same time.
your fingers curled into his shirt when headlights suddenly flashed down the road. you both jerked apart instantly. “shit,” you whispered.
rafe glanced toward the street. “is that —”
“jj’s van.”
“you’re kidding.”
panic exploded through your body as the van got closer. “hide.”
“hide where?”
“i don’t know, rich boy, figure it out—”
before you could finish, rafe grabbed your waist and pulled you behind the side fence just as jj’s van rolled past slowly.
the window was down and for one horrifying second jj looked directly toward the yard.
your breathing stopped, rafe’s hand tightening on your hip. the van paused then finally kept driving. silence. you both waited another few seconds before exhaling at the same time.
“that was close,” you whispered.
rafe looked down at you, lips twitching slightly. “kinda hot though.”
you smacked his chest immediately while he laughed quietly against your forehead.
He literally can not stand it, when you cry, he feels like his whole world is collapsing—taking him with it in a wave of sharks and everything else that can kill.
So when you came home that day, wasted as fuck, tears streaming down your eyes as you kicked your heels off, rambling about how much you hated him.
Rafe broke a promise he promised he'd keep forever.
He stayed with you all night, made you tea, removed your makeup and held you until you fell asleep—like the loving boyfriend he was.
And then he left, closing the door as quietly as he could, doing everything in his power for you to stay asleep.
So that you wouldn’t have to know what was about to happen.
It was better if you didn't.
Jj was easy to find, hanging out at the chateau as usual, drinking beer with John B and Pope—Kiara and Rafe’s sister were probably lurking somewhere nearby.
"Hey asshole" Rafe shouted, walking towards the boys with quick, emotion filled steps.
Jj immediately found his gaze, the insane gaze only Rafe Cameron could have, and he immediately regretted what he had done earlier that night.
He kept his hands infront of him as he slowly walked backwards, his heart racing fast and hard against his chest. "Woah, woah.. calm down yeah?"
Rafe clenched his jaw, wondering how someone could be as ignorant as Jj.
Pure pogue shit if you'd ask him.
He was trash on the inside and out.
"Don't fucking touch her again" he begun, "do you fucking hear me?! Do you understand?!"
Jj nodded, "I swear.. I, I didn’t mean to hurt her" his lower lip trembled as he spoke.
Rafes nostrils flared as he walked closer, "oh really?! Cause she told me otherwise" he was about to hit at every moment now, make Jj wake up in a ditch somewhere with bruises all over his body.
Pope and John B stood beside him like statues, both equally drunk and confused. "Yeah well.. you know, eh.. she was drunk, like really drunk. We both know she's got problems" he chuckled, as if the sentence didn't hold any weight.
He'd regret saying that soon, he really would have some problems.
You were aware that you drank too much, but everyone on figure eight did. It wasn't just a you problem.
You weren't the alcoholic.
Rafe took a deep breath before his fist hit Jj's face, hard and sharp as a knife.
"What the fuck" Jj groaned, carefully touching his nose that now was bleeding thanks to Rafe.
"Don't ever speak about her again, don’t ever touch her again, you got that?!" Rafe snapped his fingers infront of Jj who still was on the ground.
"Yeah.. yeah I got it"
John B and Pope still hadn't spoken a word or moved an inch, they probably weren't going to until after Rafe left, when they'd talk shit about him until Sarah would tell them to stop.
That was it, the rivalry between kooks and pogues, it had always existed and would never just, disappear.
And somehow you got caught right in the middle.
Not really belonging to either sides.
But atleast Rafe always kept his promises.
That was your belief atleast, and he'd regret hitting Jj forever. He'd stay up every night replaying the memory of your first kiss over and over again, when you made him promise to never hurt any of your ex boyfriends.
No matter what.
However, he broke the promise, and he didn't have the heart to tell you. He never would.
maybe you could do where bitchy reader is actually a virgin but everyone assumes she isn't because of how confident and bold she is? but just as her and pope are about to have sex for the first time she shyly tells him??? eeek so cute
♡ — warnings : little bit of banter, heavy petting, arguing (barely lol), loss of virginity, oral (f. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, a lot of praise, premature ejaculation, slight overstimulation,
“are you sure your brother isn’t here?” pope walked up the steps of your trailer, your bedazzled duffle bag hanging from his shoulder as you unlocked the rickety door. “ugh, yes pope! i told you like a million times already!” you rolled your eyes, stepping inside before pulling him in by his shirt. “m’just asking..” he muttered under his breath, allowing you to basically drag him over to your room. pope had been inside the trailer before when you had snuck him in after walking you home from work so late one night. “barry isn’t coming back tonight, i promise you don’t have to worry about hiding like the last time.” you laughed, sitting him down at the edge of your bed.
pope shook his head at the memory, his hands finding the curves of your hips as he pulled you on top of his lap. you looked so good right now in your tight mini dress and sandals, pope couldn’t help but grope you through the thin material until you were whining pathetically against his neck. licking a stripe up the column of his throat, pope groaned as you began leaving kisses there, your nails running along his scalp in a way that had him hardening in his pants. “shit— you know that drives me crazy.” he hissed, snaking his hand down the globes of your ass before his fingers pressed against your clothed cunt.
“m’gonna rub you dumb through these panties, baby.” you gasped, feeling the pads of his digits cirlce your clit over the lace of your thong. it always blew your mind, the way pope just knew your body like the back of his hand. he knew how to get you going, knew how to make you shake and cry until you were forcing your thighs shut around his hand, you had never felt anything like it. “pope?” you whimpered, trembling helplessly as the familiar tension began threatening to snap in your tummy. he stayed silent waiting for you to continue, but when you didn’t he stopped all ministrations. “what’s wrong?” he thumbed your chin, urging you to meet his concerned eyes.
breathlessly, you blinked up at him from under your lashes. “i wanna go all the way.” you whispered, watching as pope’s gaze darkened ever so slightly. “all the way? as in like—” you cut him off before he could use some fancy technical term, “i want you to fuck me.” at this, pope swallowed thickly. “but?” he could tell there was something sitting on the tip of your tongue waiting to be confessed. you sighed, feeling slightly embarrassed. “i’ve never had sex before, pope.” either he wasn’t hearing correctly, or you just grew another head. “why are you looking at me like that?” you put a little bit of space between you two, your cheeks heating as pope stammered over his words.
sensing your unease, pope was quick to pull you close once again. “i’m sorry, it’s just— i’m surprised is all,” your face twisted into one of confusion and offense, pope’s eyes widening as he realized how that might’ve sounded. “not in a bad way, of course! i just would’ve thought since you’re.. you know; you.” you gasped, swatting him away as you rushed to get up. “so because i’m a dancer, that automatically means i’m having sex?” you scoffed, suddenly feeling exposed as you adjusted the neckline of your dress. “no! shit, i worded that so bad,” pope cursed, “i’m talking about your personality, not your job occupation.” he panicked, attempting to grab your hand.
“my personality?!” you repeated in disbelief, “what does that even have to do with anything?” pope shot up from your bed before you could walk out of your room, his hands finding purchase on your arms. “i just mean your attitude. besides the fact that you have an endless line of men begging to be with you, you’re just so confident and flirty and really beautiful, you could have anyone you want. literally. my friends included.” he chuckled, watching the way your expression slowly softened. “you’re so far out of my league it just caught me off guard,” he apologized, caressing the side of your cheek, “and just for the record, i wouldn’t have cared if you did sleep with other people already.”
melting into his touch, you closed your eyes for a moment as he held you. “have you done it before?” as much as you were already jealous at the thought of someone being intimate with pope, you had to remember that he was still a really good guy at the end of the day and it wouldn’t be far fetched if he had already shared experiences with others. “sex? yes.” pope could see the gears working in your head at his answer, your eyes narrowing as you thought about who. using your distraction to his advantage, pope sat you down this time and began to ease the tension. “it’s been a long time since i last did anything with someone, i promise.” you hummed, sparing him a glance.
“you’re still hard.” pope looked down at his lap and nodded. “yeah, well you tend to have that effect on me..” you laughed softly, both of you finally meeting gazes. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to freak out or anything. i’m just tired of people always making pre-judgements about me. i know you didn’t mean anything bad.” you scooted closer, allowing him to embrace you. pecking the crown of your head, pope breathed in the scent of your shampoo, his jaw ticking once he felt your hand rest over the tent in his boxers. “i still want you,” you spoke, “please.” if there was anything pope could never say to you, it was the word ‘no’.
“are you sure?” pope was already laying you down against your pillows before you answered him with a kiss to the corner of his lips, his hips slotting between your thighs. leaning down, you wrapped your legs around his waist as he went in for your neck, your mouth falling open in a silent moan as he trailed wet kisses down to your cleavage. pulling at his shirt, you watched with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as pope slipped off the garment, his muscular build revealing itself to you in all of its glory. “fuck, i forget you’re hiding all of this sometimes.” you reached out, running your hand down the ridges of his abs until your fingertips met his happy trail.
“i guess treasure hunting has its way of paying off.” he snorted, his hands working to get you bare and pretty beneath him. despite working in a club, you still felt nervous as pope slowly got you out of your dress, his eyes running down your naked form. “i’ve seen you dance so many times before,” he whispered, “and i’ve tried to imagine you like this, but my imagination truly doesn’t give you enough justice. you’re fucking stunning, babe.” you smiled, feeling less nervous as he adjusted himself to where his head was between your thighs. “i want you to lay back and just let me work, okay? this is all about you.”
sucking in a breath, you fisted the sheets as pope’s lips connected with your flesh, his tongue circling teasing licks against your skin. rubbing you with a firm grip, you knew he wasn’t going to spare you once he locked his arms around your thighs and delved in without hesitation. back arching off of your bed, you cried out once he found your clit. “pope—!” you moaned, your hips bucking as he held you tight against his face. you let out a shuddered breath, your hands flying up to cup your tits as he brought you closer and closer to that sweet release. eyes fluttering shut, you jolted once he teased a finger at your entrance.
“i just want to get you ready as best as i can baby, you let me know if this hurts?” unable to form a coherent sentence, you nodded frantically, waiting with a bated breath as he slowly slipped into your soaked cunt. “f-feels good,” you whimpered, “fuck.” pope sighed in relief, his eyes never leaving your face as he continued his ministrations. by the time pope had three fingers inside of you, you felt more than ready to take something else. “i want more, pope,” you reached down and motioned for him to come up from between your thighs, “i’m ready.” pulling away to get his pants off, your breath hitched in your throat once you saw the size of him.
“oh, wait—” pope shushed you, his hand tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before he pinned your thigh to his hip. “you’re ready,” he pecked your temple, “i wouldn’t have stopped doing what i was doing if i didn’t fully believe you could take it.” you swallowed hard, both of you sitting in silence before you gave him a small nod, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as he lined himself up with your waiting pussy. upon pushing into you, you made a sound you had never made before, your walls already clenching around him as he filled you to the hilt. kissing you softly, you held onto pope while he used his mouth to muffle your moans.
“i’m gonna start moving, okay?” he interlocked your hands together, keeping them close to his chest before he pulled out and glided back in. “oh, my god..” you all but melted into a puddle of nothing beneath him when you felt him reach a depth you couldn’t even begin to imagine. pope was so gentle as you took in all the new sensations you were able to. you and pope had your fair share of intimacy, but this? him rocking in and out of you while his body weight laid on top of your own was something that could bring you to tears. you couldn’t get any closer than this, and yet you felt like he was in your skin. he was all around you. everywhere you looked, touched— pope was everything in this moment.
it was only a matter of time before your hips started meeting his thrusts, prompting him to move faster as you grew more frantic with every word of praise. “you’re doing so good.” pope groaned, his movements faltering as he felt his orgasm beginning to unravel. quickly snaking a hand between your bodies, you shrieked as he started rubbing hard circles around your clit, the action sending you over the edge and leaving you to clamp tightly around his cock. embarrassingly enough, this was the fastest pope had ever finished, his cum painting your insides with hot, white spurts. you reveled in the way your body wracked in full blown bliss, your heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears as your nails raked down his torso.
still twitching inside of you, pope cradled your head and held you securely until you eventually tapped out, overstimulation beginning to set in as his fingers never slowed down the rubbing against your sensitive bud. “too much!” you whined, placing a firm hand on his chest, “too, much, pope!” without a second thought, pope stopped, both of you breathless and utterly fucked out. you gazed up at him, your vision growing a little fuzzy as your eyes watered. pope blinked, long and slow. “are you okay?” his voice came out rushed and concerned once he saw the tear that escaped the corner of your eye.
wiping away at your face, you nodded, bringing him down by the nape of his neck for a kiss. you had heard stories from your co-workers about their first times and how horrible it was. either the guy was an asshole, the place was dingy, or hell, even both. you used to wonder what yours would’ve been like, especially once pope came into the picture. it didn’t take long to determine he was perfect. protective, smart, sweet, he was everything you hadn’t had before. “i’m more than okay,” you smiled at him, “how long before we can do it again?”
summary ᯓ✦∘˙ car washing with the pogues, summer heat, and jj maybank doing what he does best: protecting you at all cost.
word count ᯓ✦∘˙ 2.8k~
jj maybank never said no to you.
not in the way that mattered.
sure, he might groan about it, drag his feet, swear up and down that you were gonna be the death of him one day—but he always did what you asked. always showed up. always stayed. even when it was inconvenient, even when it cost him sleep, money, or a little bit of pride. if it was you asking, it was already a yes. everyone knew it. jj knew it. he just didn’t bother fighting it anymore.
you weren’t like the rest of the kooks, but you weren’t cut either. you existed somewhere in the middle—close enough to understand both worlds, far enough to belong to neither. your family wasn’t rich, but your house wasn’t falling apart. you had rules, but not so many that you couldn’t sneak out. you wore hand-me-downs and thrifted clothes, but somehow always looked put together. to jj, you felt… safe. like a place he could land without being reminded of everything he didn’t have.
you and jj had always been close. not loudly, not dramatically—just naturally. like you gravitated toward each other without even trying. he’d sit closer to you than anyone else, lean into your space, rest his arm behind you without thinking. when the group split up, he always ended up at your side. it was instinct, muscle memory, something deeper than friendship but softer than something he knew how to name.
jj thought you were the most adorable person in the world.
genuinely. painfully.
the way you scrunched your nose when you laughed. the way you said his name like it was the easiest thing in the world to love him. the way you looked up at him with those big, hopeful eyes whenever you wanted something, like you truly believed he’d come through for you. and the worst part? he always did.
he couldn’t keep his hands off you. not in a way that felt wrong—just… constant. a hand on your shoulder as he passed by. fingers brushing yours when he handed you something. tugging you closer by the wrist, spinning you around just to hear you laugh. sometimes he’d rest his chin on your head, or pat it absentmindedly like it was the most natural thing in the world. you never flinched. never pulled away. and that alone made his chest ache in ways he didn’t understand.
anything you did felt amplified to him.
everything you did mattered.
and if jj maybank had a weakness— one thing in this world that could undo him completely, it was you, smiling at him like he was someone worth trusting.
the chateau is melting.
not literally, but the air inside is thick, unmoving, heavy with heat and the faint smell of sunscreen and old wood. the fan in the corner rattles uselessly, blowing warm air around like it’s trying its best and failing miserably.
john b is stretched across the couch, shirt abandoned somewhere on the floor, one leg hanging off the armrest. “i’m not even kidding,” he groans, dragging a hand down his face. “i think i’m gonna pass out.”
“you say that every time it hits ninety,” pope says, sitting on the floor with his back against the coffee table, scrolling through his phone.
“yeah, and every time i mean it.”
kiara’s curled sideways in the armchair by the window, sunglasses still on even though she’s inside, iced tea sweating in her hand. “we should go to the beach,” she says lazily. “or the backyard. or literally anywhere with water.”
the screen door creaks as you push it open.
conversation dies instantly.
the heat has already kissed your skin, leaving your cheeks lightly flushed. your hair is pulled back in a loose half-up, secured with a simple clip, the rest falling freely down your back. a few strands have slipped loose, curling softly around your face and sticking to the back of your neck from the warmth.
you’re wearing denim shorts—soft, worn-in, sitting higher on your thighs than usual, short enough that it’s immediately noticeable. the yellow babydoll top is light and airy, fabric thin and slightly sheer in the sunlight, the hem floating away from your body when you move. it’s simple, sweet, unmistakably you and somehow that makes it hit harder.
the room goes quiet.
john b lowers his arm. pope looks up from his phone. kiara tips her sunglasses down just enough to get a better look.
everyone kind of stares.
not in a weird way. just… surprised.
jj, though?
jj lights up.
he’s on his feet before anyone says a word, grin already spreading across his face like he just won the lottery. “well damn,” he says, loud and unapologetic, eyes dragging over you without even pretending to hide it. “what’d i do to deserve this blessing today, huh?”
he crosses the room in three long strides and grabs your hands, spinning you once, twice, your laugh cutting through the stagnant air. the hem of your top flutters, sunlight flashing across your legs, and jj’s hands settle at your waist a beat longer than necessary when he finally stops you.
“look at you,” he adds, softer now, head tilting as he grabs your hand and spins you to checks you out again like he’s committing the sight to memory. “absolutely killin’ it.”
you smile, a little bashful, like you have no idea why everyone’s acting so weird, and that somehow makes it worse for him.
john b lets out a low whistle. kiara raises her eyebrows over the rim of her sunglasses. pope shakes his head, muttering something about this guy.
jj doesn’t care.
he’s still looking at you like the rest of the room doesn’t exist, thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles as if he forgot he’s even holding your hands. “seriously,” he says, shaking his head with a crooked grin. “you can’t just walk in here like that. you got this look on your face that you're scared to ask me something.”
you tilt your head up at jj, sunlight catching the loose strands of hair that fell forward from your half‑up style, and say it like it’s the most casual thing in the world:
“so… since you always do the twinkie… could you help me wash my car later?”
for a beat, time sort of pauses.
jj’s grin falters just a little— that exact moment where he wants to pretend he’s annoyed but can’t keep the amusement out of his eyes.
“girl…” he starts, that drawl so familiar, “you serious right now?”
you nod silently with a smile painted on your face.
“you really wanna do that in this heat?"
you blink up at him, completely earnest. “well… it’s actually kind of–”
“–hot?” jj interrupts with a smirk.
“–yeah,” you finish with a little laugh. “but that’s why i figured if anyone can make it fun it’d be you.”
pogues immediately perk up.
john b raises an eyebrow from the couch. “make it fun? what kind of ‘fun’ are we talking here?”
pope snickers, “because last time fun involved way too much ice and somebody almost dumping a cooler on kie’s head.”
“c’mon, jay,” john b says from the couch, one brow raised, iced tea sweating in his hand. “you heard her. don’t leave her hanging.”
“yeah,” pope laughs, leaning forward a little, “you’re not gonna let her wash it with marsh water and old rags, are you?”
kiara just smirks at jj, like she’s quietly studying him and already knows exactly how this is gonna go.
jj holds your gaze for a beat longer— like he's trying to decide if you're being cute or if you're plotting something absolutely ridiculous.
“y/n,” he says, this time with a slow grin, “you know i’m gonna do it just because you asked, right?”
you blink, totally innocent, like that wasn’t obvious to everyone in the room.
“well… i mean… yeah?”
jj’s eyes flick back to you— and just like that, he sighs, a long, exaggerated thing that could’ve been annoyed but honestly sounds fond.
“alright, fine,” he says, hands in the air, “but you owe me big time. i could die of heat stroke out there.”
you brighten immediately— a soft, pure little smile and before you even think about it, your arms have looped around his neck in a tight, grateful squeeze.
“thank you!!” you whisper, voice all warm and happy.
for a second, jj just stands there, frozen, maybe because he didn’t expect a hug, maybe because you smelled like sunscreen and summer air and home, and then, almost gently, he hugs you back, one arm around your waist, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
the sun feels softer outside, still warm but gentle now that you’re out in the open air. you grab the hose with a little nervous excitement, watching water arch through sunlight like tiny rainbows before it hits the driveway. jj steps up beside you, buckets of suds and sponges waiting at your feet, and somehow it already feels like the most perfect summer afternoon.
everyone else is settled in their beach chairs nearby, iced drinks in hand, sunglasses on, content to be spectators to whatever mess you and jj are about to make. kie leans back with those big shades tilted just right, sipping slowly like she’s watching a movie she knows will get good. pope has one foot propped over the other, already laughing every time jj makes some ridiculous comment about how suds “offend his personal space.” john b, on the couch with his iced tea, has apparently appointed himself official car wash commentator, offering dramatic, unsolicited tips like this whole thing is a televised event.
you’re in your one‑piece now— pastel and sweet, the straps occasionally slipping just a bit when you stretch over the car and the way the light catches your hair makes it glow around your face. jj glances at you, smirk tugging at his mouth, then reaches over and pats your head like it’s the cutest thing in the world. “loving the new suit, baby,” he says, voice warm and teasing. “you look so adorable.”
you turn toward him with this soft little smile, cheeks warmed by the compliment and the heat and everything in between, a shy happiness that feels just right in the moment. your hair, loosely half‑up with a few curled strands stubbornly framing your face, bobs with the movement, catching the sun like it’s part of the whole golden scene.
and just like that, the hose in your hand, the suds glistening, the sounds of laughter and warm summer air wrapped around you— it hits you how perfect this kind of afternoon feels: sunlight, friends, warmth, laughter, and him right there beside you, easy and soft and right.
the pogues have basically claimed their lawn chairs like it’s the world’s slowest, most chaotic front‑row show. kie’s perched back in her seat, oversized sunglasses on, iced tea in hand while pope’s already cracking jokes about how jj’s “suds intensity” might be a threat to national safety. john b’s lounging with his drink propped against his stomach, offering commentary like he’s the unofficial host of car wash irl, but honestly, none of them even come close to what’s actually happening between you and jj.
you’re bent over the hood of your car, sponge in hand, sunlight catching the pastel of your one‑piece and turning everything golden around you. your hair is still that soft, loose half‑up, strands nudging against your neck in the warmth, and every so often you tilt your head just a little— enough for jj to notice.
“here,” jj says beside you, voice low and a little rough from laughing too much already. he places his hand over yours on the sponge, guiding the motion like it’s nothing. his fingers are warm, and for a second, there’s this pause— not awkward, just… close. the kind of moment where the sun feels softer and everything sounds just a little quieter except for him.
“suds first,” he murmurs against your ear, tone low enough that you feel it in your chest, not just your ears.
you blink up at him through lashes that catch the light, and for a second your cheeks heat— not from the sun, but because he’s that close, and the world feels warm and contained between his shoulder and yours.
you try to focus on the car… but suds slide off the sponge and down your hand, and jj’s thumb brushes against your wrist as he readjusts. there’s this soft electricity to how natural it feels— like a familiar pull you didn’t even realize was there until it’s right beside you.
“okay…” you say, voice a little breathy, “suds first.”
he smirks, eyes flashing— not with sarcasm, but something softer, almost like pride. “yeah,” he says, voice low, “that’s the way.”
the way the sun hits his face makes every warmth in the world feel pointed directly at you, and his hand lingers just a heartbeat longer on yours before he pulls back— not far, just enough that you can still feel his energy there.
it starts with a suspicious amount of quiet.
you’re rinsing suds off the hood, hose arcing clean water over the paint, when jj squints toward the porch. “why are they being so quiet,” he mutters. “that’s never good.”
you barely have time to turn before—
SPLASH.
ice-cold water smacks against your side, soaking your ribs and making you gasp. a second later, another wave hits jj square in the chest.
“OH—ABSOLUTELY NOT,” jj yells, jumping back as pope stands up from his chair holding a red cup absolutely packed with ice water, laughing way too hard.
john b’s already halfway across the yard with another cup. “commentary break!” he shouts. “introducing: pogue car wash EXTREME!”
kie doesn’t even get up — she just casually flicks her wrist and sends a perfect splash your way, iced tea cup long abandoned for something far colder. “you two looked way too comfortable,” she says sweetly. “had to fix that.”
you squeal, stumbling back as freezing water soaks your swimsuit, the shock of it ripping a laugh out of you whether you want it to or not. “KIE—”
the click of the hose.
jj’s head snaps up. “oh no.”
john b is already grinning like a menace, hands tight around the nozzle as he cranks it open. “ladies and gentlemen,” he announces, “the main event.”
the hose erupts.
a powerful stream of water shoots straight toward you.
you barely have time to gasp before jj moves.
“HEY—!” he shouts, but his body’s already in motion.
he grabs you by the waist and yanks you behind him in one smooth pull, turning his back fully to the spray as he wraps both arms around you, tucking you tight against his chest. your face presses into his shoulder, your hands clutching his sides as the water slams into him full-force.
cold spray explodes everywhere.
“JOHN B!” jj yells, half-laughing, half-yelling as the hose pounds into his back. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”
you squeak, laughing and shrieking at the same time, fingers fisting in his soaked shirt. “JAY—IT’S SO COLD!”
“I KNOW,” he shouts back, tightening his hold on you, feet planted wide so you don’t slip. “I GOT YOU—YOU’RE GOOD—”
water runs down his neck, his hair plastered to his forehead, shirt completely drenched, but he doesn’t budge. he leans forward just a little, like a human shield, taking every hit so you don’t have to.
pope is losing it, bent over laughing. “BRO IS SACRIFICING HIMSELF.”
kie finally stands up, laughing so hard she has to wipe her eyes. “jj you look like a soggy golden retriever!”
john b keeps spraying, cackling. “this is cinema!”
the force of the water makes you both stumble a step back and you yelp, instinctively clinging tighter.
“WOAH—” you squeal.
jj immediately locks his arms around you. “NOPE—NOT FALLIN’ TODAY,” he yells, laughing like a maniac. “I GOT YOU, SWEETHEART!”
finally, kie shouts, “OKAY, OKAY, CUT IT—” and pope lunges for the hose, wrestling it down as the spray shoots straight into the air, raining back over the driveway.
the water cuts off.
for half a second, everything is dripping silence.
then you and jj just lose it.
you’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe, forehead pressed into his chest as water drips from both of you. jj throws his head back, laughing loud and wild, still hugging you like he forgot how to let go.
“worth it,” he wheezes.
“absolutely worth it,” you laugh, still half-screaming as another giggle rips out of you.
around you, the pogues are yelling, laughing, soaked, pointing at jj like he didn’t just volunteer as a human shield.
and jj? jj just squeezes you tighter, laughing and yelling right along with you, soaking wet, chaos everywhere, summer ringing loud in the air — and for him, there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
summary: Rafe has been begging you to move in with him, but when you finally show him the place your heart belongs to, he realizes he'd do anything to make you happy.
content: fluff, angst, a drizzle of spice, semi-canon obx if you were to eliminate some pretty important things lol
cw: mentions of blood and injury, suggestive comments, closed-door romance, mentions of abusive parents (Luke)
note: my contribution to @zyafics mrga campaign <3
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“Don’t open your eyes yet!”
“I’m gonna trip over something and fall on my ass. Or run into something. This is The Cut, who knows what junk is just lying around. I’m gonna get tetris or some shit.”
You laughed out loud. Rafe nearly opened his eyes to figure out why.
“See, now you’re laughing at me, you better not be doing some dumb shit to me for a Tiktok,” he warned.
“Oh my god, you’re such a baby, calm down,” you chuckled. “I’m laughing because you’re cute. It’s tetanus, not tetris.”
He should feel embarrassed, but the sound of your laugh and of you calling him cute calmed every muscle in his body. You were a balm that went straight to his agitated heart.
You were the only one who could disarm him when he got irritated like this. You told him once that you don’t take his bad moods personally because you can see them for what they are - he’s not angry, he’s anxious. He realized then that you’re the only person who’d ever really understood him, that you might understand him better than he understands himself.
It’s why his shoulders relax now, it’s why he can take a deep breath. There was no one else in the world who could convince him to let them drive his boat while he’s blindfolded or walk through the tall, marshy grass without knowing where he was going. Only you.
“Can I open my eyes now?” He asked.
“We’re not there yet,” you shook your head, hand still on his arm to lead him closer to your surprise. “You can go one more minute without seeing where you’re going.”
“Maybe, but I don’t know if I can go another minute without seeing you,” he flirted.
You smiled, tempted to rip the blindfold off him and forget all about the surprise. Too bad for him you already knew all his tricks.
“Nice try, Cameron.”
As you got closer, your stomach twisted. Maybe this was stupid. After all, wouldn’t it be underwhelming to Rafe after all he’s seen? This place meant so much to you, you didn’t know if you could handle any criticism from him. You considered turning around, but you’d already made such a big deal out of this, how would you explain it to him?
“Okay, this is a good spot, I guess,” you said, your voice shaking with trepidation.
“You good?” Rafe asked. Of course he could tell your mood shifted without even looking at you.
“Yeah, I think, just open your eyes.” At this point you just wanted to get his inevitable disappointment over with.
Slowly, Rafe opened his eyes. He blinked a few times to adjust to the blinding Carolina sunlight before finally sizing up your big reveal.
It was your house, the one he’d been to a hundred times before - sneaking into your window so your brother wouldn’t hear, showing up in the night to investigate when you “heard a noise,” defending you from Luke when he got violent. Except, this wasn’t the same house. It was bigger, for one. And slightly better, with new walls, a new roof, and a big, hand painted flag in your brother’s handwriting: “Poguelandia.”
It wasn’t much, but it was your dream come true. In your eyes, you may as well have been standing in front of a magic castle. As you watched Rafe’s expression stay completely unchanged you realized that to him, it probably still looked like some shitty shack on The Cut. You wished you never brought him here.
“This is what you guys have been working on this whole time?” He asked, still looking at the house and not at you.
“Yeah, I mean, and the store,” you gestured to the dock behind you where you and your friends had built yourselves a small business. Another thing that would surely seem pathetic compared to what Rafe was used to.
“It’s nice, I like it,” Rafe said.
“No it’s okay, you don’t have to lie,” you said, voice small. You started to turn to leave. “I shouldn’t have made such a big deal out of it, let’s just go-”
“Hey, woah, woah,” Rafe interrupted you gently.
He approached you from behind, arms twisting around your waist, forcing you to turn back and look at your home. He had to duck down to slot his chin into your shoulder, swaying you both gently.
“If I had to come all this way, I think I at least deserve the grand tour, don’t I?” he mumbled into your ear.
Your smile returned, you nuzzled your cheek into his, heart swelling.
“I guess, if you insist,” you said with a cheeky grin.
“I do,” he nodded, tickling your neck with his buzzed hair. He tilted his head down to place a sloppy kiss into the crook of your shoulder. “I’m especially looking forward to seeing your bedroom.”
“You mean the one I share with your sister?”
He groaned, “why do you torture me like this?”
“Because it’s fun.” You twisted away from his hold and slid your hand down his arm to interlock your fingers with his.
Rafe followed you onto the porch. You paused at the front door for dramatic effect.
“Hello MTV, welcome to my crib!”
Rafe smiled as you cracked up at your own joke, but his momentary joy turned sour when you opened the door and revealed an unwelcome sight on the other side; the Pogues.
The lively discussion that had been filling your shared living room stopped dead in its tracks. The room turned cold. Six icy stares were aimed in your boyfriend’s direction.
You understood why they disliked him so much. He didn’t put much effort into changing their minds. But he’d changed yours. And though you’d tried for years not to, you loved him. Neither of you had said it yet, but you knew it was true, at least for you.
There had been countless arguments between you and your brother and the shared friends that were basically family about Rafe. Countless fights you’d stopped between JJ and Rafe, countless nights begging Rafe just to try a little harder, begging JJ just to give him a chance. They both cared for you enough not to kill each other, but it was a reluctant ceasefire. A fragile peace you were always vigilant to protect. A truce that could be broken at any moment. You prayed this wasn’t that moment.
“Sorry, I didn’t think you guys were home,” you explained. The six pogues shared concerned glances with each other, something unsaid that you felt had nothing to do with you walking in with their least favorite person. “What’s going on?”
Kie stood, shot a brief but blazing glare towards Rafe, and handed you a piece of paper. You read it carefully, your eyebrows creased in confusion that was slowly morphing into great concern. Rafe read over your shoulder.
It was an official warning from the Kildare City Council. The land you were standing on and the home you’d built would be rezoned. They were taking Poguelandia.
“What the hell?” You shouted. “Can they actually do this?”
“Looks like they already are,” John B confirmed.
“No, no. There has to be something we can -”
“There’s not!” JJ stood from his seat at the far end of the room.
You could see it all over his face, the anger that was always lying just beneath the surface starting to make its way to the top. Everyone thought of JJ as a happy-go-lucky, silly, mischievous kid. And he was all those things, but he was something else, something only you really saw; a hurt kid who never healed.
“There’s never something we can do,” JJ continued, stalking slowly toward you, but keeping his eyes locked on Rafe the whole time. “Not when Kooks are involved. They always win.”
“Back up, Maybank,” Rafe snarled, looking down at JJ, who’d gotten close enough to break the barrier of Rafe’s personal space.
You stepped between them instinctually, a move you’d made a hundred times before.
“Stop.” You put a gentle hand on JJ’s chest to back him up, but he didn’t budge. “This isn’t his fault, J.”
“How do we know that, huh?” JJ finally tore his eyes off Rafe to look at you. “How do we know he’s not behind it somehow? Trying to steal our land for another bougie ass development project. You can’t trust these people, sis. How many times do we have to get screwed by them before you realize it?”
You and your brother looked at each other for a long time. The rest of the room watched as the two of you seemed to have a conversation none of them could hear; the unspoken language of siblings who’d been to hell and back together.
After a long moment, you turned your gaze toward Rafe.
“Do- do you know anything about this?” You asked him hesitantly.
His face fell. A series of emotions flashed across his features so quickly, you were sure you were the only one in the room who caught them all; surprise, betrayal, hurt, anger, and finally, back to his go-to: detached stoicism.
“That’s really what you think of me? That I’d do something like this?” His tone was even, his voice far away even though you were inches apart.
You knew you’d hurt him by even entertaining the idea that he’d betray you like this. But this ground was shaky, and you had been screwed over by Kooks your entire life. The trust you put in him did not come easy, and sometimes it wavered, even though he’d never given it any reason to.
Rafe’s jaw clenched when you didn’t answer. He nodded once, his lips twisting into the kind of smile that had absolutely no joy behind it.
“Unbelievable.” He muttered.
He took one last searing look around the room, twelve hateful eyes met him, and he didn’t look at your watery ones before turning and storming out of the house, the newly installed screen door banging shut behind him.
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Your knees were tucked all the way to your chest, your chin resting on them as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to manufacture any sort of comfort. It wasn’t working.
The zone change notice sat on the bed in front of you. You read it over and over, as though if you just wanted it badly enough, the words would change into something less devastating.
You were going to lose your home. You’d probably lost the love of your life, before you could even tell him he was the love of your life. Your brother was one step from completely falling over the edge, the rocky path toward destruction that you’d pulled him back from your whole lives getting steeper by the minute. A few hours ago you were excitedly cleaning this room so you could show Rafe. How could so much change in so little time?
A knock at the door pulled you from your spiraling thoughts.
“Come in,” you said quietly.
The door creaked slightly despite it being brand new. Sarah tiptoed into the room gently, searching you for any signs of distress.
“Sar, you don’t have to knock to come into your own room,” you told her.
“I know, I just thought maybe you needed some space.”
You shook your head and scooted over on the bed to make space for her. She took your invitation with a smile and settled in next to you.
“So…how’s your day going?” She asked in a singy-songy voice.
You both erupted in bittersweet laughter.
“Oh y’know, I’ve had better.”
She nudged your arm with her elbow.
“Everything’s gonna be okay, you know.” She assured you.
“Is it though? I mean really, Sar, is it?” No laughter hung in the air now. “I mean, what if I just lost my home and my boyfriend? Or worse, what if I just lost my home to my boyfriend.”
“You really think Rafe would’ve done something like this?” She asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want to. You heard him though, when I asked him about it, he didn’t deny it.”
Sarah sighed, a deep exhale that usually signaled she was about to say something she didn’t want to.
“What?” You prodded.
“Look, I’m not my brother’s biggest fan, you know that,” she began.
“Um yes, you’ve made that very clear,” you chuckled, thinking of all the times Sarah had warned you not to get involved with Rafe.
“But, just this one time, I’m going to…” She paused dramatically, her eyes screwed shut with reluctance. “...defend him.”
Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Be honest, how hard was that for you to say?” You teased.
“I’m holding back vomit right now,” she laughed.
“Well then defend him quickly before you yack on my bed.”
“Okay, I just,” she paused to consider her words carefully. “I know you know Rafe really well. I mean you’re the only one he’s ever really let in, so you probably know him better than anyone. But I’ve known him longer than anyone. I’ve seen every version of him. I knew Rafe before he met you, and now I know him after he met you, and believe me when I tell you, those two are not the same guy. As cliche as it sounds, you changed him.”
You sat in silence, letting the words settle over you, surprised by how emotional they were making you. You willed the tears forming in your eyes not to fall.
“Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a dick,” Sarah added. You were grateful for a reason to laugh before you started crying. “But he’s not the same. There was a time where I’d say ‘absolutely, Rafe definitely did this just to screw us over,’ but not anymore. Not since he fell in love with you.”
You looked up in surprise, the tears at your lash line threatening to finally spill over.
“You think he loves me?”
“Girl, be so for real. That man has never looked at anyone the way he looks at you. Believe me, he’s yours.”
Your heart skipped, and the tears finally fell. You rose from the bed so suddenly, Sarah almost fell back onto the mattress. You didn’t know what had taken over you, just that you needed to go, now. Everything in you was being pulled toward him, like sand being dragged back out to sea by the tide. If you spent one more minute of your life without him knowing what you were so certain of now, you might not make it.
Sarah smiled at you, she read it all over your face.
“Go!” She urged.
“Love you!” You shouted over your shoulder as you raced out of your bedroom.
“Love you too, you freak,” she smiled to herself, knowing you were already long gone.
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Where could he have gone? Your mind flipped through all the possibilities as you ran across the lawn toward the dock. JJ would probably be pissed that you took The Snapper without asking first, but didn’t even care about that right now. You just needed to find Rafe.
You didn’t have to search for long.
As soon as your feet hit the wooden dock, they stopped in their tracks.
At the end of the pier sat Rafe’s boat bobbing in the water. The long figure of your boyfriend leaned over the bow. You watched with a big, bright smile as he untied the line, then retied it, then untied it, and retied it once more. He was clearly having a silent disagreement with himself. All that mattered to you was that he hadn’t left.
You approached slowly, avoiding the planks in the dock you knew would creak and give away your presence. The closer you got to him, the faster your heart beat. The words you were dying to say sat perched at the end of your tongue, you knew they wouldn’t be able to hang on much longer.
Half way through untying the boat again, Rafe stopped and sighed.
“Need a push?” You said.
His eyes shot up to yours, startled. Tension filled his shoulders as he took you in, his shock quickly fading to something softer, yet still unsure.
“That depends,” he squinted in the sun to see you better.
God, he was gorgeous. You could not let him get away.
“Depends on what?” You played along.
“If my girlfriend will forgive me for being a dismissive prick,” he said.
You forced your lips not to twist into a smile, pretending to consider his words.
“I think she might. If you forgive her first,” you said.
His eyes softened, lips twitching. You were both failing not to smile at each other now.
Rafe finally tied up the boat for good, hopping up onto the dock. You admired every movement of his body as it drew closer to yours. When he reached you, he placed his hands on your waist, your arms drawing up to wrap around his neck, stretching up on your tiptoes to get as close to him as possible.
“She has nothing to apologize for. The only home she’s ever known is being threatened. She’s just scared. I get that.”
Every word fanned over you like a soft summer breeze. Your heart warmed, impossibly full despite all the anxieties today had brought. He just got you, he understood without you having to say it. This must be the closest two people can get to making magic, you thought.
“Thank you,” you let your head fall forward to rest on his chest. He kissed the top of your head.
“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he whispered into your hair.
You looked back up at him, shaking your head.
“How is everything gonna be okay, Rafe? What if there really is nothing we can do? I mean, who’s even behind this?”
Rafe didn’t answer, but one name popped into his mind. Even with his suspicions, he didn’t know if he could help you. Helplessness was the feeling he despised more than any other, especially when it came to you.
“I don’t know,” he said, his heart breaking at the despairing look on your face. “But you’ve still got me. You could always move into the condo with me, like I’ve been begging you for months.”
“Can I bring my friends with me?” You scrunched up your nose, hoping he’d find you cute enough to say yes.
“I love you, but there’s no way in hell…”
A bolt of lightning shot through you, goosebumps erupting over your entire body. Did he really just say…?
He instantly read the shock on your face, but there was no look of regret on his.
“What? Haven’t I said I love you before?”
“Umm, no, I think I would’ve remembered that!” You couldn’t help the big, goofy grin taking over your whole face.
“Oh, well that’s weird,” he shrugged, his hands sliding from your waist to your lower back, wrapping his strong arms around you and lifting you off your feet. “Because I do love you, so fucking much.”
You yelped as he lifted you into the air, head falling back in laughter as he almost tumbled you both off the dock in his effort to sweep you off your feet.
You looked down at him and he lowered you slowly, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, arms still wrapped around each other like you’d never let go. You stood there embracing for a long time, so long that the sun was starting to set, casting a golden shimmer across the water.
Finally you said, “I never gave you the grand tour.”
“And I was really looking forward to seeing your crib,” he teased, his lips brushing against the skin of your neck when he talked.
“Well, c’mon then.” You grabbed his hand, leading him back toward the house, both of you buzzing with the excitement that there was something much better than a tour waiting for you inside.
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“...And this is John B and JJ’s room,” you opened the door only a crack, afraid to unleash the stench that permanently filled the space. “They insisted on getting bunk beds even though they’re, like, forty. And Pope insisted on having his own room because, as he said, ‘JJ is a walking biohazard.’ Which is…fair.”
Rafe was just watching you with adoration as you showed him around the house. He was barely looking at the rooms you were showing him because he was so focused on the way you glowed with joy. It was true that he wanted you to move to Bayline with him, it was his life’s goal to get you there, actually, but he had to admit that you seemed like you really belonged here. He’d never seen you look more at home.
“And this is our gallery wall.” You gestured to the display of framed photographs hanging in the upstairs hallway.
Rafe surveyed them dutifully with his hands tucked politely behind his back, like an old man in an art museum. Most of the photographs were of you and the pogues at various times in your life. Out fishing in the marsh, riding dirt bikes, post-surf at the beach. You admired the way Rafe was looking so intently and resisting the urge to grimace at so many photos of you with his once sworn enemies.
He explored the wall, eyes lingering on any photo of you a little longer than the rest. The hall continued to lead down toward your bedroom. At the very end, in a high corner, just above a series of photo booth pictures you’d taken with Sarah and Kie last summer, hung a delicate circular frame featuring a worn-out picture almost too small to see. Rafe leaned in for a better look.
In the photo, which was a tad faded and clearly taken several years ago, was a young guy, probably about 30, holding two young kids on his lap. The slightly bigger one, a boy, held up a trout he’d just caught, flashing a toothless grin. The little girl beamed at the man holding her.
It took Rafe a moment, but when he felt your weight shift next to him uncomfortably, he put it all together. The photo was you, JJ, and Luke. Probably the only one you had. And despite everything Luke had put you through, you’d hung it on the wall to see everyday.
Rafe turned to you, you were looking down at your feet, toes digging anxiously into the rug. His heart ached. If anyone knew what it was like to have a complicated relationship with their father, it was him. The fact that you’d still given Luke some dignity in this house he almost destroyed so many times said so much about you, and reminded him why he loved you so much.
“You wanna show me your room now?” He asked gently.
You looked up at him with glassy eyes and a small smile, “yeah.”
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The door clicked closed softly. Rafe took in the room, immediately identifying which bed was yours and which bed (the messy, half-made one) was his sister’s.
“Sarah doesn’t spend much time in here,” you admitted.
“No?” He asked, keeping his eyes off of you, the closed door suddenly adding a nervous energy to the room he wasn’t expecting.
“She mainly sleeps with John B.” Rafe grimaced, you hurried to reassure him. “Like, in his bed I mean, or his bunk I guess. Not, like sleep with him sleep with him, although I’m sure there’s plenty of that -”
“I’m literally begging you to stop talking,” he said, his eyes finding the ceiling, no doubt trying to erase the mental picture you just created for him.
“Sorry,” you chuckled.
Rafe wandered around the room some more, taking in all your decorations. He never understood why someone could collect so many knick-knacks that seemed to be worth nothing, but there was something endearing about it that drew him to you even more. Just another in a long line of things that would annoy him with someone else, but enchanted him with you.
As your time alone in the room dragged on, the air became tenser. You felt yourself watching him, but unable to move, back pressed up against the door, frozen in anticipation.
You and Rafe had been alone together before - and you had been together before - but something had shifted out on that dock. Something that you knew you couldn’t take back, and didn’t want to. In fact, you only wanted to solidify it more.
“Rafe,” you said softly, finally pulling his attention away from your decor.
He looked up at you expectantly, like he had been waiting for you to give him permission to. He didn’t respond, just walked slowly toward you, his eyes on yours the whole way. Your heart was beating out of your chest.
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” you said, trying to laugh to break the tension, though the sound came out more like a hiccup.
“Has something changed?” He wondered aloud.
“Yeah, I guess it has.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “Because today I realized two important things.”
“What two things?” He asked, surprised, and a little alarmed, by your answer.
“The first is that this is my home, and that in a way, it will always be my home. And yet at the same time, I also realized that you’re my future, and I love you.”
Rafe’s smile spread slowly, like he was taking in each word one at a time. His blue eyes sparkled - like actually sparkled - with joy. Maybe you were imagining it, but it didn’t matter, you just wanted him to keep looking at you like that.
“Oh you love me, huh?” His voice was low and dangerous, he stepped closer until he was towering over you.
“Yeah, haven’t I said that before?” You echoed his words from earlier back to him.
He just shook his head at you, tucking his tongue in the corner of his cheek to try and tame his smile. His hands found your waist like they were made to fit there. His voice carried down to your very core as he leaned in.
“You know you can’t take it back now, right?”
“Why would I take it back? I mean it, Rafe, with everything I have. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And he showed you. His body enveloping yours as he backed you up against the door and kissed you deeply. A whole new energy between you now, your need and your affection for each other stronger than ever.
Before you could get carried away, footsteps on the stairs reminded you of a very crucial step of bringing your boyfriend home.
“Wait, hold on.” You pulled away from Rafe and he frowned. His disappointment was so cute you were tempted to kiss the pout right off of him, but first you rummaged through a drawer in you and Sarah’s shared dresser.
“What is that?” Rafe asked when you pulled out a conch shell glued to a piece of twine.
“Just a little system Sarah and I have.” You winked at him, opening the door just a crack to hang the shell from the doorknob.
“Do I want to know?” Rafe asked.
“I don’t know, do you want to talk more about your sister’s love life, or work on ours?” You bit back your smile when he cringed at your words, suddenly realizing Sarah’s use for the shell with a shudder.
“You’re lucky I love you,” he said, before scooping you up and carrying you over his shoulder, just to drop you on the bed with a bounce.
“Yes, I am,” you smiled up at him.
And he showed you, over and over, just how lucky you were.
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It was different this time, more passionate, more intense, more everything. And when he held you after, whispering more I love you’s into your hair, and neck, and the side of your face, you knew it must’ve felt the same for him, too.
You laid tucked into his side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders so he could intertwine his fingers with yours as you both stared up at the ceiling in pure bliss.
You sighed a happy, airy sigh and nuzzled closer to him.
“You know I just mean for now, right?” You said.
He twisted his neck at what must’ve been an uncomfortable angle to try and see your face.
“You just love me for now?” He asked, incredulous.
“No, no!” You couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry, no, that’s not what I meant. I meant to say, this is just my home for now.”
“Oh, okay,” he rested his head back onto the pillow. “That’s better, I guess.”
You sat up, shuffling through the sheets so you could see him. You brought your legs up and sat criss cross on the bed next to him. Rafe lazily reached out a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear as he waited for the words he knew you were trying to formulate. He loved that you thought so hard before speaking, always determined to say what you mean. You loved that he waited to hear what you had to say, a patience he reserved almost exclusively for you.
“I know it must seem weird,” you began, “that I’m so attached to a place with so many bad memories. And I know you want me to live with you, and I want that too, eventually. But you have to understand, for so much of my life, it was just me and JJ. It was just us in this house. Even though a lot of it was us hiding from Luke or fending for ourselves when he didn’t come home for days at a time, there are good memories hidden in all the bad ones. Like, at the bottom of the stairs, there’s a spot where JJ and I accidentally ran our sled into the wall when we were stair-surfing. We covered it with chewed bubblegum and colored it in with marker, and Luke never noticed. Or in the kitchen, there’s tally marks under the countertop where we used to keep track of how many beers Luke had so we knew when it was time to go to John B’s for the night. And on the old dock, where our store is now, we made each other a pinky promise that someday we’d grow up and make something of ourselves and buy this house right out from under him. And we did it! And now, they’re just going to, what, take it away? Punish us for rising above the low expectations that they set for us? We were hurt here, yeah. But we also survived here. We did it together. I can’t leave that, or him, not now, not yet.”
Rafe drank in your words, and when tears came, he didn’t wipe them away or tell you to stop crying, he just let them fall. Let you feel what you needed to feel. His hand stayed firmly rested on your leg, there to hold only if you wanted it.
Through sobs you finally said, “this is our home, Rafe. We’re gonna lose our home.”
He’d heard enough. He stood from the bed quickly, pulling on his khakis and polo wordlessly.
“Where are you going?”
Rafe turned to look at you, saw the worry in your eyes and leaned over your bed so his face was level with yours. You would have been frightened by the steel in his eyes if you weren’t so excited by it.
“You asked me how it was going to be okay, right?” He said, voice low and tinged with danger.
You just nodded, unsure what to make of this sudden change in demeanor.
“It’s going to be okay because I’m going to make it okay.”
With that he stood and stalked toward the door, stopping to look at you one more time.
“Get some sleep, yeah? I’ll be back in a bit.”
You didn’t bother to ask where he was going, you knew he wasn’t going to tell you. When he had a plan like this, there was no slowing him down. Usually, his plans were self-serving. He was a strategist, like his father. Only now, it seemed, you were the beneficiary of his plot, and you weren’t sure what to expect.
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It sure as hell wasn’t the doorbell ringing at two in the morning.
It had started to storm and the thunder was rumbling through the house. It took a few rings before you could even hear the doorbell over the sound of the rain. Sarah lay on one side of you, Kie on the other, Cleo at the foot of the bed. They’d come to comfort you after Rafe left and you all cried yourself to sleep talking about the future of Poguelandia.
You accidentally kicked Cleo when you got up, who then kicked Sarah, who reached over and hit Kie in the arm as if it was her fault. Everyone was awake now.
“Noise. Bad. Make it stop,” Sarah grumbled into her pillow.
“Hit me again and I’ll make you stop breathing,” Kie said, her threat a little deflated considering she made it with her eyes still closed.
The doorbell rang out again, in rapid succession this time, causing everyone to groan and cover their ears.
“Who the hell rings the doorbell at 2 a.m.?” Sarah whined.
“If it’s those goddamn Jehovah’s Witnesses again, I’m gonna shove their little pamphlet down their throats,” Cleo said.
“I’ll get it,” you said through a yawn.
“Wait, you’re gonna go alone?” Kie grabbed your hand to pull you back.
“What if you get murdered?” Sarah said, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
Kie and Sarah both climbed out of bed with you, but Cleo didn’t budge.
“If you get murdered let me know,” she said, pulling the blankets tighter around her. “I will avenge you.”
Kie rolled her eyes and pulled the blankets off Cleo, Sarah grabbed her hand to drag her from the bed.
“You’re coming with us, babe,” Sarah said over Cleo’s protests. “And bring your knife.”
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Lightning struck somewhere across the marsh at the exact second the door flew open. You and all three girls, wrapped in your blankets and holding various kitchen utensils, screamed at the sight on the other side. A dark figure of a man stood on the front porch, too far from the light for anyone to make out his identity. Cleo stepped in front of you all with her knife wielded.
“Hey! You better show yourself or get lost,” she shouted at the figure.
As the man slowly made his way into the flickering porch light, you realized you recognized the broad curve of those shoulders, the slope of that neck.
“Rafe,” you whispered.
Just as you identified him, the porch light swept across his face, and all four of you gasped.
The same places on his face you’d laid gentle kisses just a few hours ago were now black and blue, except in the places they were bloody. And he wasn’t walking slowly toward the light, he was limping, barely able to stand. He leaned against the door frame, holding his right hand in his left, his knuckles were raw and wounded.
“Rafe!” You repeated, pushing past your friends to get to him. You tried to support his weight but you couldn’t manage it alone. Sarah came to his other side to help catch him as he stumbled forward.
Kie, however, took a defensive step backward, her arms crossed over her chest. Cleo kept her knife raised.
“Think you can put down the knife now, babe,” Sarah told her.
“You never know,” Cleo said, narrowing her eyes at Rafe.
“Cleo, look at him,” you scolded.
She gave Rafe a once over, finally determining he wasn’t a threat in this state.
“Let’s get him on the couch,” you told Sarah. “Quickly, before he falls.”
Cleo stepped away to allow you to walk Rafe further into the living room. Kie created more distance between herself and your bloodied house guest. You searched her face quickly, it was a mixture of alarm and defensiveness. You could see the decision as it was being made, you tried to stop her but you were too late.
“Kie, wait!”
But she was already running up the stairs, surely to wake the boys. There was no version of these circumstances that would be made better by your half-awake, hotheaded brother.
You and Sarah finally got Rafe on the couch. He leaned forward, grimacing in pain as he propped his head in his hands. You knelt in front of him, trying to find his eyes with yours.
“Rafe, baby, what happened? Are you okay? Please talk to me.”
You placed your hands on his legs, rubbing soothing circles, begging him to fill the silence with an explanation. You looked at Sarah with pure panic in your eyes, she looked back with concern. Whether it was for you or for her brother, you weren’t sure.
“Rafe, it’s okay, whatever it is, you can tell us,” she encouraged him.
You’d never been more thankful for your best friend. You knew how much it took for her to offer him comfort like that.
You reached up to cup Rafe’s cheek in your hand, touching gently so as to not worsen his pain.
“Please, baby, what happened?”
He finally looked at you, and your heart skipped a beat. You thought maybe he was going to confess something terrible, or else cry out in agony. But instead, he just smiled that soft, sleepy half-smile of his and placed his hand over top of yours, caressing your skin with his thumb.
“I made it okay,” he whispered to you.
Before you could react, footsteps thundered down the stairs behind you, the fury of their descent louder than the storm outside.
“What the hell is going on?” JJ bellowed.
“What are you doing here, Cameron?” Pope followed up.
John B rushed to Sarah’s side, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Everything okay?” He asked the both of you.
“I don’t know,” you shook your head, rising to sit next to Rafe on the couch, slipping your hand into his. The sight only enraged JJ further.
“You have ten seconds to explain yourself and stop bleeding on our fucking couch, Rafe.” JJ barked.
“Jay, can’t you see he’s obviously hurt?” You snapped at your brother.
“Looks more like he did the hurting,” JJ replied.
“You don’t know that! You always assume the worst!” You yelled.
“Because he is the worst!” JJ yelled right back.
You stood in anger, ready to fight your own brother in defense of the man at your side. But Rafe grabbed your hand and pulled you back towards him, not lifting his head as he held you in place. His other hand reached into his back pocket, pulling out a piece of paper that had been folded to protect it from the rain.
Rafe looked up finally, but not at you, at JJ. He extended his arm to offer JJ the piece of paper.
JJ tiptoed over as if Rafe had somehow booby trapped the floorboards between them. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics.
With all eyes on him, and no sound but the storm outside, JJ unfolded the piece of paper. He read it for a long time. Like, a really long time. The little sister in you had to bite back a joke about his intellect, and you met eyes with Pope to see he was holding back the same comment. Even in this incredibly adult moment, you were kids together.
Finally, JJ looked up from the paper. Staring incredulously at Rafe.
“Is this for real?” JJ asked him, eyebrows raised.
Rafe just nodded, the movement causing the cut on his lip to open, making him wince in pain. You sat down beside him again, watching him anxiously for signs that he was hurt elsewhere.
JJ just stared at the two of you for a moment before turning and leaving the room, dropping the piece of paper on the coffee table as he left. Pope and John B went to it immediately to read what had caused JJ to storm out, but you didn’t even care at this point, all that mattered was Rafe being okay, you needed him to be okay.
Except, JJ hadn’t stormed out. He had only gone to the kitchen, from which he was now returning, a bottle of whiskey and a bag of frozen peas in hand. He offered both to Rafe, Rafe opted for the whiskey. He twisted open the cap and took a sip, wincing as it went down.
You grabbed the peas from your brother, holding them up to Rafe’s black eye. He flinched at the contact but settled after a minute. JJ watched as Rafe placed his hand on your leg gratefully and handed back the bottle of whiskey.
“What’s the bourbon for? Drowning our sorrows?” Cleo asked.
“No,” John B said, he and Pope looking up from the paper with disbelieving grins. “Celebrating.”
“What does it say?” Kie asked, stepping further into the room, though she continued to eye Rafe like he was a wild animal that could go feral at any minute.
“We got the land back. They’re not rezoning,” Pope explained. “We’re keeping Poguelandia.”
The room froze for a minute, then erupted in a burst of hoots and hollers. Finally, the storm had some noise to compete with. The others hugged and cheered. Sarah rose from the couch and threw herself into John B’s arms.
“How’d you do it, man?” John B asked Rafe.
“Don’t worry about it,” Rafe said, squeezing your leg three times. “I just took care of it, okay?”
He sounded aggressive, like he always did when addressing these six people, but you saw this for what it really was - a peace offering. A grand gesture. A declaration of his love for you. He gave you your home back, he gave you everything.
As the others continued to celebrate, the volume in the house reaching new heights as they passed around the bottle of whiskey and toasted Poguelandia, you leaned into Rafe, your chin tucked into his shoulder so you could whisper something in his ear.
He smiled at your words, raising his arm to wrap around your shoulders and curling you toward him so he could bring his lips to your temple.
“I love you, too.”
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a/n: had to come out of retirement for this one, missed my boy too much. and holy shit did I have fun writing for rafey again. also this is as canon as I'll write Rafe lol
oh, and what did rafe have to do to get Poguelandia back? That stays between me and him xoxo
