Found your blog after binging OBX season 2, and loved the last two one-shots you’ve done.
*SPOILER WARNING*
Could I request a JJ x reader where the reader is in place of Kiara during the finale sequence on the ship in the last episode when they’re all trying to get the cross and the lifeboat? I’m feeling like I would’ve loved that angst sensation with a fulfilling fluff ending for that sequence. Would love for it to end in a kiss/love proclamation, maybe they’ve been tiptoeing around each other and this tipped it for both of them. Does that make sense?
Sorry it was so long!
Almost || JJ Maybank
Summary → JJ falls off the side of the boat and you jump in after him, afraid he’s going to die in your arms.
AN → OBX2 SPOILERS!
Pairing(s) → JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader
Warnings → Strong Language, Drowning, Blood
Word Count → 1.1k
The next thing you knew, JJ’s body was flying over the railing of the boat and a loud splash sounded. Turning over to the man holding the machete, you kicked him down and watched him hit his head. In one swift motion, you were kicking the machete away from him and making this decision to lift yourself onto the rail and jump down into the water.
For a split second it was peaceful, you could feel yourself in the air as you plummeted downwards. Then everything stopped; you felt a surge of cold water and almost immediately you felt your body temperature drop. The salt water briefly entered your lungs, heaving it up and seeing that JJ was face down in the water.
“JJ!” You choked, using all of your energy to swim to him.
He was heavier than you, but using all of your upper body strength, you managed to pull him upwards and into your chest. His head lulled backwards onto your shoulder, his skin was sallow and pale. Kicking relentlessly, tears were clouding your vision as you tried to keep your head above water. His body was ice cold, blood spilling from a head wound.
“J, wake up!” You shouted into his ear. “John B! John B, help us!”
You felt lightheaded, crying into what felt like the abyss as you held him in your arms. This was the same boy you’d been in love with since the sixth grade. He was the same boy that took you to freshman homecoming after your first boyfriend broke your heart a week before. The same boy you let sleep in your bed with you every time his dad kicked him out.
And he was hardly breathing.
“John B!” You wailed. “Sarah? Pope? Someone help us!”
Closing your eyes, you felt yourself beginning to slip away into unconsciousness. Coughing more and more water up, you shouted continuously into JJ’s ear. He wasn’t waking up, wasn’t responding, hell—you couldn’t even tell if he was still alive.
If you thought hard enough, you could still see him playing on the middle school football team. You remembered watching him in the stands with that longing, girlish stare. He was your best friend, then and now.
Years and years of stolen glances, near kisses, harmless flirting. It had always been him, no one else. A few boyfriends that hadn’t lasted longer than two months, all in hopes of moving on. But in the end, it was always him.
“JJ, please,” you cried. “Please wake up!”
He was the one who taught you how to surf. The one who helped you learn how to drive when you were fifteen. Without JJ, you wouldn’t have become a Pogue. And now, you couldn’t help feeling like both of you were going to drown out in the middle of the ocean.
“J, I’m sorry,” you sobbed into his neck. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
You could hear the engine of the lifeboat faintly in the distance, mustering up the rest of your energy and starting to scream for John B. With no free hands, you couldn’t even check to see if his pulse was still there. All you knew was that he wasn’t breathing. You thought you heard Sarah, but you weren’t sure.
“John B! We’re over here!” You pleaded. “Help us!”
They cut from the other side of the much larger boat, a feeling of relief washing over you as they sped over towards you in the water. You could hardly breathe, waiting until John B and Pope were beside you in the water and ready to grab him out of your arms and pull him up.
Cleo pulled you up into the boat, falling onto your side and groaning into the ground. Blood spilled from your arm, tears streaming down your face as you sat up and pulled JJ into your lap. Everyone was freaking out, he wasn’t moving and in between sobs you kept violently shaking him.
“I’m starting CPR,” you coughed, thanking god that you had two summers of lifeguarding under your belt.
Laying him flat, you attempted to regain composure. Without realizing, the boat had stalled and you were stuck. John B was trying to fix it, but you knew you needed to be with JJ.
Tilting his head back, you lifted his chin and pinched his nose. His mouth was cold under yours, lips blue when you gave him two breaths and sat up to start compressions. Sarah and Kie were sobbing like you had just been, Pope yelling at John B about how Rafe had a gun.
After thirty compressions, you tilted his head back again and pressed your lips down on his. Once you’d given him two more breaths, you started compressions again, tears streaming down your face and neck.
“JJ, wake up!” You shouted, pressing down onto his chest. “You don’t get to die! Wake up!”
Dropping back down to breathe into his mouth, you hardly began to start on his chest again before he sat up coughing water out of his lungs violently. Eyes bloodshot, he was on his side throwing up all of the saltwater when you sat back on your heels and the boat started back up.
“Welcome back, man!” John B said in relief.
He looked up at you, and unable to really think clearly, you scooted forward and wrapped your arms around him shakily. He noted your trembling lip and fear stricken eyes. His head was on your chest and you sunk down to kiss the top of his head.
Everyone sort of just sat in their own world, happy to have gotten away and that JJ was okay. Nobody was really too observant when he sat up and looked at you, looked at the way you were holding him.
“J,” you murmured. “You have no idea—”
He was kissing you.
JJ was kissing you.
Lips that you had just been trying to send air into were cold and needing on your own. Cheeks that had been recently drained of all life were now turning pink with your touch. His hair, drenched in saltwater, was slick between your fingers as he leaned into you and let the taste of the ocean roll from his mouth to yours.
Pulling back at the same time, Cleo let out a whistle and John B was making a joke about how JJ was still JJ in death. He swallowed, eyes trained on yours as the boat rocked. Taking his wet shirt in your fist, you pulled him forward and kissed him again. Only then did you take the time to slap him in the arm, earning a confused wince.
“Don’t you ever almost fucking die again!”
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@moonythemilf @pradastardust @xxxlaura @ivegotthepetertingle @pogueslandia @hollandsvogue
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