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gooondocks · 2 months ago

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and if your heart wears thin — evan buckley.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: after taking an unfortunate spill on the job, buck's fiancé decides that life is too short to wait any longer.

─── pairing: evan buckley x gn!reader.

─── warnings & notes: angsty angst and then fluffy fluff. near death experience, descriptions of drowning and rescuscitation, brief mention of needles (not graphic), incorrect medical procedure for Plot purposes. no use of y/n. title is from 'beside you' by marianas trench. this starts out with some mild peril but devolves into some of the fluffiest shit i've ever written so. enjoy. not proofread bc i'm lazy.

─── word count: 3.9k.

YOU SHOULD'VE BEEN EXPECTING IT, is the thing.

The callout comes about halfway through the shift. Intoxicated male on the boardwalk at Echo Park Lake, bleeding from a head wound, having tripped getting out of one those damn swan boats. Dispatch warns that he’s been hostile and combative to both employees and civilians on scene, and that a police unit has also been sent to assist.

So really, you should have been expecting it. Aggressive patients aren't exactly rare in your line of work, unfortunately. Hell, this wasn’t even the first confrontational call you attended this week. So you're pretty used to being on your guard on these kinds of calls.

Except.

You turned your back for only a second, just to grab something from the medkit. Buck and Eddie are doing their best to coax the patient onto the gurney, gritting their teeth as he hurls slurred curses their way. Hen quietly asks you to grab the pulse oximeter out of the bag, and so you turn, crouching down at the edge of the dock to rummage through the kit.

You’re not sure what causes it. Why the patient decided to lash out at that exact moment. But there’s a gruff roar behind you and the man flails, edging around Eddie to give you an almighty shove. Crouched like this, your center of gravity suddenly shifts. You lose your balance.

And then you're in the water.

Panic floods your body as you breach the surface. It's instinct to gasp for air, except there isn't any; you take in a lungful of the lake instead, sputtering and hacking beneath the water as you try to kick towards daylight.

It’s deeper than you thought it would be, so close to the shore. You keep kicking and kicking, but your boots never scrape the bottom, nor do you find the surface. It’s cold, too. Colder than you thought possible, in a lake in the middle of Los Angeles. But it’s winter now, you suppose. A grim, chilly February. Most of it has been spent curled up beneath a blanket with Buck, the pair of you ensconced in your cosy apartment.

The past week has been overcast and windy. And the water is never as warm as the air temperature. Buck laughs every time you run into the surf at the beach, squealing at the sudden, sharp chill of it lapping at your skin.

How cold can a human body become before it’s dangerous?

You try to remember, but cold water curls around your limbs like heavy iron shackles, dragging you down. You can’t remember. Buck would know. Buck wouldn’t even have to think about it, he’d just reel off the answer in a heartbeat, and you’d smile proudly and kiss his cheek and insist, once again, that you should do a quiz night at your wedding reception.

Your lungs are burning. God, your whole body’s just screaming for air, but you can’t find it. There isn’t any. Just endless, depthless water and the occasional wink of sunlight, mocking you from high above, then gone again. Never around long enough for you to find it. Never long enough to save you.

Instinctively, you suck in another breath. Another barrage of lakewater floods your lungs. Dark spots start speckling across your vision.

On the dock, Buck is screaming.

He’d had one hand on the patient’s shoulder, his grip firm but gentle as he helped Eddie guide the guy onto the stretcher. You’d ducked out of sight for a moment, but Buck had been focused on subduing the patient. He tried not to grimace as waves of hot, rancid beer breath crashed over him.

Then, with a strength that surprised them, the man wrenched out of Buck’s grasp and staggered away from them. Buck doesn’t think he shoved you on purpose, but it didn’t matter; one moment you were suspended, wobbling dangerously close to the edge of the dock, and the next—

The next, you were gone.

The patient’s still yelling nonsensically, curses and insults blending together into one unintelligible mess, but all Buck can hear is white noise. He blinks, but you’re still missing. He sees the gurney, the patient, Chimney’s pale face, the ripples spreading over the surface of the lake.

But no you.

Terror bolts through him, and without hesitation he’s sprinting to the edge of the dock. No, no, no. Ragged breaths tear out of his lungs as he scans the surface of the water, frantically searching for any sign of you.

You’re okay, you’re okay, he repeats under his breath, over and over. Any moment now, your head will bob into view, and you’ll shoot him a waterlogged scowl, and he’ll laugh at you doing your best impression of a drowned cat, and everything will be okay.

But the seconds tick by, one excruciating breath after another. There’s no sign of you.

Buck shouts your name. A heart-wrenching cry. No, no, no.

The rest of the team leap into action. Some of them load the patient quickly into the ambulance while Bobby radios for another RA unit. Eddie scrambles to grab the life preserver as Buck tears off his jacket, kicks the heavy boots off his feet. Hen and Chimney prepare their equipment for the worst.

Please. Please. Buck doesn’t believe in God, but he spares a moment to pray before diving into the lake after you.

The current catches him off-guard, tugging harshly at his clothes. It rained a lot earlier this week, so the lakes and rivers around Los Angeles are more swollen than usual, but the strength of it sends a spark of fear zipping up his spine. Falling in here, disoriented and panicking…

He can barely make out your figure through the water’s murky gloom. Kicking hard, he swims down to you, loops strong arms around your waist. Wrapped in Buck’s unrelenting grip, he drags you back to the surface.

“Eddie!” Buck calls out as he breaks through. Eddie wastes no time in tossing the life preserver towards him, who grabs hold of it with one hand, his other arm coiled tightly around your limp body, trying to keep your head above water.

Bile rises in his throat as your clammy skin presses against his. You’re so cold. Panic wraps a hand around his throat and squeezes, hard, with every inch he gets closer to shore.

Eddie and Bobby are quick to pull you both back to the dock, using the life preserver as a tow line. Hauling you out of the water, Buck lowers you gently to the ground. Your head rolls limply sideways, your face unnaturally pale, lips tinged blue from lack of oxygen.

“They’re not breathing,” Hen murmurs worriedly. She sets the pulse ox on your finger while Chimney tries a sternal rub. You don’t flinch. “Respiratory arrest. Starting CPR.”

Buck hovers at the edge of things. His chest is tight like a vise, steadily squeezing all the air of his lungs and replacing it with cold, slippery dread. He watches Hen and Chimney work over you, counts the reps in his head alongside them.

He can’t tear his focus from your hands. They’re so still. Like a doll.

Or a corpse.

Please. You can’t leave him. You can’t. He hasn’t had enough time. You’re supposed to be getting married. Walk down the aisle together, spend a lifetime together. You were talking about getting a dog just last night. Planned a trip to the shelter for your next Saturday off. You were going to ask Chris to come with.

And between one breath and the next, all of that could just be… gone.

“Buck.” Eddie clasps a hand on Buck’s shoulder, wrapping a blanket around him to stave off the chill. Oh. He’s shivering, hands quivering at his sides, soaked clothes clinging to his skin. The blanket is tiny compared to Buck’s broad frame, but it’s something, at least. “Buck, breathe.”

On the ground, Hen keeps administering rescue breaths. Every few seconds, she'll pause to check your response, but you remain frighteningly still every time.

Buck can’t breathe until you do. He can’t.

He feels so hyper-aware of everything around, the onslaught hitting all at once. The crowd of nosy onlookers gathered at the end of the dock, held back by frazzled park employees and a few other members of the 118. The wind ghosting over his skin, chilled gusts that ruffle his damp curls and creep beneath the blanket seeking wet skin to freeze.

But most all, you. Always you. He can’t look away.

Eddie’s hand on his shoulder feels like a tether, not quite breaking him from his thoughts completely but keeping him from falling over the edge of the precipice.

“Buck, breathe.”

His whole body shudders as does, finally, sucking a ragged breath into screaming lungs. His vision blurs just slightly. He blinks to clear it.

You’ll make it. He cannot allow himself to think the worst. He won’t give up on you, won’t acknowledge the dark thoughts creeping in from the corners of his mind. You’ll make it. You have to.

"Come on, kid," Chimney whispers as Hen administers another round of rescue breaths. "Come on, kid, you've got this—"

�� And then between one second and the next, your whole body jolts, and you're vomiting out lungfuls of water. Hen rolls you onto your side, rubbing a soothing palm along your back as you wretch onto the ground.

"That's it, baby, get it all out," she murmurs. You're gasping and hacking and sputtering lakewater all over the place, still not quite conscious, lips still a little blue and face still startlingly pale, but at least you're breathing.

A wave of relief crashes over Buck and it almost takes him out at the knees. His heart’s still racing dangerously in his chest, trying to break past his ribs to reach you, and his hands still shake, but you’re breathing again.

You’re breathing.

He sways a little as his legs go weak. Buck feels lightheaded just witnessing you expel all that water, and sudden nausea grips his stomach in a vice. But he fights through it, unwilling to take his eyes off you for even a moment, even as his vision begins to blur again.

Tears gather along his lash line, threatening to fall. He remains silent, not trusting that he won’t dissolve into tears the moment he opens his mouth.

You’re still gagging, heaving onto the deck, but at least there’s no more water.

He’s itching to reach out, touch you, feel your pulse flutter beneath his fingers to prove he’s not hallucinating. His hand twitches just slightly, like he almost does, but he feels rooted to the ground.

Body wracked with violent tremors, you start to relax back onto the ground, limbs limp and leaden, throat and lungs burning like wildfire from the water you expelled. Your breath hitches every few seconds, still shallow and slow, so Hen fixes an oxygen mask to your face as Chimney mutters something about getting you to a hospital just as the second ambulance arrives on scene.

You don't hear any of that. Blinking once, twice, the light is bright enough to make you squint as your mind swims hazily between waking and unconsciousness. Your head is pounding. You feel like you got hit by a goddamn truck. A pained moan whines out of you as you squeeze your eyes closed again to block out the weak, grey daylight.

Buck bites his lip bloody as he watches you drift, your eyelids fluttering and your slow, stuttering breaths. His eyes are fixed on the oxygen mask. With every exhale, it turns foggy with condensation, and another knot of worry in his chest starts to loosen, but it’s not enough to put him at ease. Not yet.

He’ll calm down only once you’ve been checked over at the hospital. Preferably with a second (or third) opinion, just in case.

“Buck.” Eddie’s grip on his shoulder tightens momentarily as he nudges Buck gently forward. “They need you.”

On the ground, you're only semi-conscious, still not fully aware of your surroundings. But you feel like you're looking for someone. Like there's someone missing, and you reach out blindly with one cold, trembling hand.

Buck’s own fingers flex in response, but his legs still feel too heavy. He looks to Eddie, who nods at him, before Buck allows himself to be pushed towards you.

Eddie’s right. You need him.

Stumbling forward, he drops down to his knees, a dull thud echoing up from the wood that nearly makes him wince. He edges closer, eyes flicking all over your face, taking in your gaunt, washed out features, that cyan tint to your lips, the way you’re reaching out to him.

Slowly, so slowly, he hesitantly takes your hand in his, curling careful fingers around yours. He squeezes tightly, and then it’s like he’s afraid someone will steal you away from him, because his grip turns almost tight enough to bruise.

“I’m here, baby.”

The hand encircling yours is warm and huge and comfortingly familiar, and when his voice drifts over you, something in your mind flickers with recognition. Your eyes flutter as you search for him, ignoring the way the light feels like skewers in your brain. "Buck?" Muffled by the oxygen mask, your voice is barely more than a whisper, throat rubbed raw from expelling the water.

"Let's get her on a gurney." Hen is all business, but there's a soft, relieved smile on her face. "We'll start an IV of warm fluids in the ambulance to bring your body temp up. You weren’t down for too long, but I want to get you checked by a doctor soon in case there's any neurological issues."

She’s addressing you, but it’s Buck who’s listening, taking in what she’s saying. He squeezes your hand again, trying to be a tether to consciousness as you weakly nod. He watches as your eyes search for him again.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay,” he murmurs softly, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

It’s more to reassure himself than anything.

They're quick to transfer you to a gurney, and soon you're being wheeled towards the ambulance. Buck's hand in yours is a comforting anchor to reality, even as your whole body aches with pain.

"Cold," you mutter once the doors have closed. Chimney's driving. Buck's in the back with you and Hen. You wouldn't have let go of his hand if they'd even tried to separate you, but they didn’t.

Buck watches over you like he’s scared you’ll stop breathing if looks away. The lines of his fave are still creased with worry, but his thumb is soft, tracing soothing, mindless circles over your skin.

When you speak his head snaps up slightly, eyes immediately locking with yours as you call out for him, murmuring in a raspy voice that you’re cold.

“I know, it’s okay. Here, let me.” Hen wordlessly passes him a heated blanket and he’s gentle as he strips you of your wet shirt. Expertly avoiding the leads and tubes attached to your body, he tucks it around you, still holding your hand all the while.

"Mm." You make a small, pleased noise as the blanket's warmth envelops you. It barely registers when Hen reaches across to take your other hand, wincing a little as she inserts a cannula to start you on an IV of warm fluids.

"ER is ten minutes out," she murmurs quietly, and settles back to monitor your vital signs, offering you and Buck a little privacy.

You're still shivering beneath the blanket, even as the warmth of it starts seeping into your bones, but that's more of an aftereffect of drowning than actual cold. You squeeze your fiancé's hand as hard as you can. "Buck?"

“Right here, baby,” he murmurs softly, squeezing right back. His free hand moves to your head, fingers gently running through your damp, tangled hair.

"Wanna marry you."

The words that spill out of you are little more than a mumble, your eyes still closed, face still hidden beneath the oxygen mask. Soaked strands of hair drip murky lake water onto the floor.

Buck is already your fiancé. You're already engaged. But there's an urgency settling in your gut, twisting up your insides in the worst way.

You want— no, need to marry him.

As soon as possible.

It takes a few seconds to understand what you said, but when the words finally register, it feels like they’ve grown talons that tear right into his chest. The urgency in your tone makes his eyes still, and his heart starts to race all over again, threatening to beat right out of his chest so it can live next to yours.

Eyes softening, he moves his hand from your hair to rest his index finger under your chin, gently tracing his thumb over your lip.

“Marry me, huh?” he mumbles softly. You’d never be able to tell that on the inside, his brain is screaming gleefully that he’d marry you right now if Hen were ordained.

He taps your nose over the oxygen mask, and if you were a little more awake (and not encumbered by the oxygen mask), you’d nip at his finger, a playful smile toying at your lips.

Instead, you make the cutest grumbling sound he’s ever heard. "Mm. Now.” Your engagement ring is tucked safely in your locker back at the station, replaced on shift by a black silicone band that won't get damaged on a call.

You squeeze his hand again, tugging insistently on it. Blinking against the harsh light of the ambulance, your gaze finds his, eyes still foggy and unfocused. “Marry me.”

If another day passes before you’re married to this man, you may actually lose your mind.

Butterflies swirl around Buck’s stomach, a far cry from nausea that rolled through him not that long ago. The small smile on your lips and the way you’re tugging on his hand make him feel all warm and gooey.

He laughs softly at you, tapping his finger against your nose again. “Right now? We’re gonna get married right now? With you in the hospital?” He’s got no hope of masking the amusement in his tone. He wants to marry you yesterday. His eyes sparkle as he looks down at you with a quirked brow.

You nod a little, trying not to wince as that sets off the pounding in your head. God, you pity those who get regular migraines. This is torture, and you only suffered a little oxygen deprivation!

But Buck is smiling.

He’s smiling and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You thought you'd never see it again. You want to see that smile every moment for the rest of your life

"Mm-hm," you mumble, leaning into his touch. "Eddie can be flower girl. Wedding night in a hospital room. Scandalise the nurses."

You're not sure how much of that was coherent, but you hear Hen snort, so you figure it was mostly audible.

Buck’s grin broadens at your suggestion, but he bites his tongue to stifle the laugh bubbling in his chest. “Scandalise the nurses, huh.” He glances at Hen out of the corner of his eye, catching her trying to smother a similar smile.

You huff at him, as if he’s being particularly difficult. As if you didn’t almost die twenty minutes ago. As if there aren’t more important things to focus on than the elopement you’ve suddenly decided you need.

Besides. They’re nurses. You’re pretty sure they’ve seen worse.

“Sucked your dick in the broom closet at work,” you mutter, your eyes falling closed again as warmth and safety wrap you up like a swaddled baby. “We’re pretty scandalous, baby.”

Hen is barely able to muffle her squawk in time, hand clapped over her mouth, and you can't help but smile at the bright sound of it. You're sleepy, and you've got no filter, but at least everyone else gets to enjoy it.

Buck, meanwhile, almost chokes on his own saliva. Eyes wide, jaw slack, a rosy flush creeps up his neck. It’s Hen’s reaction that makes him laugh, though, and he finally lets it out, quiet but affectionate as it tumbles from his lips.

He shakes his head a little as he looks back down at you. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” His thumb keeps tracing lightly over the back of your hand, and the expression on his face is impossibly soft, his heart still racing in his chest.

"Eddie in a pretty pink flower girl dress," you mumble, nonsensical images flitting through your mind of your friend drowning in tulle. You sigh. "You'd still be prettier. Just wanna marry you."

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel warmer than any blanket. You feel like you’re floating on a cloud instead of stretched out on a gurney in the back of an ambulance.

You want nothing more than to curl up in his arms right now, at home in your bed. This situation is certainly not ideal.

"Bet we could get Eddie to wear a dress." More sleepy grumbles. You try to roll over, shuffle closer to your fiancé, but annoyingly, your body feels far too heavy to cooperate. "Play the I nearly drowned card. That would work. Bobby can officiate. Hen gets the cake. Can't wait another day."

Buck snorts at the idea of Eddie in a dress, but his heart feels so full it’s like his body can barely contain it. The urge to wrap you up in his arms, to hold you close and never let go, hits him like a baseball bat to the head.

“We gotta wait until you’re able to talk without being a smartass,” he says teasingly, tapping your nose again.

You whine, frowning like a grumpy, tired child. “Then we’ll never get married.”

Truly, if you have to wait for until the day you stop being a smartass, the world might end first.

You look over at Hen through sleepy, puppy dog eyes. "Back me up here, Hen." You're so drowsy, exhaustion pulling you into its delicious embrace, but you’re pretty sure you'll remember all of this when you wake up.

Hen certainly will, at least.

A slow, sly smile creeps onto her face. Buck feels distinctly like he’s being ganged up on. For once, he really doesn’t mind.

"Well, we as a firehouse are well-known for our impromptu party planning..." Hen recalls her vow renewal, and Chimney's wedding to Maddie, and every back-to-work celebration she ever organised. They are pretty damn good at this. "As long as the doctors clear you, I don't see why we can't plan a shotgun wedding in your hospital room."

A triumphant, extremely sleepy grin spreads across your face, and you look back at Buck. "So marry me, hotshot."

He huffs a melodramatic sigh, as if this is the world’s biggest inconvenience for him, but he cannot hide the way his ears turn pink, the way his whole body lights up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July.

“A shotgun hospital wedding it is,” he says, bright with glee as he lifts your hand to his mouth, brushing a sweet kiss to your knuckles.

With that settled, contentment curls up beneath your ribs like a cat in a patch of sunlight, and you doze off into a dreamless sleep, feeling like the luckiest person alive.

#evan buckley x reader #evan 'buck' buckley x reader #evan buckley fanfiction #evan buckley imagine #evan 'buck' buckley imagine #9-1-1 fanfiction #9-1-1 imagine #9-1-1 fanfic #* ollie's work.

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saltlic · 5 months ago

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Patience

#saltlic #saltlick #saltypic #ocean #pacific ocean #surf photo #surf photography #surfer #california #surf #grey day #foggy aesthetic #surf photographer #photographers on tumblr #photooftheday #photography #the one who waits #cold water #cold wave

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maybank5 · 3 months ago

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𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐞

pairing ⤜ yn x jj

summary ⤜ a happy future fic, because we need some healing; jj on the beach with his family reflecting on his life.

a/n ⤜ how are we doing fam? me? not so well. this has been the hardest fictional moment that's ever hit me. i'm choosing to believe our boy is still off somewhere and gonna have the best, most fulfilled and loving future. sending hugs and love to each of you!!

song inspo ⤜ no song inspo for this one; but i did have 'nights in white satin' on repeat as i wrote

The sun is setting over the horizon, sinking down into the ocean and melting into streams of gold and orange against the shimmering water. JJ Maybank perches on his surf board for a moment, admiring it. He's never considered himself to be the most religious of people. Sure, he attended Sunday school as a kid, knows the bible stories decently enough; and yeah, there's times when he catches himself praying. Like the time John B got into that nasty accident, or when his son was born. There'd been complications, things had been touch and go for a moment. JJ had pressed his head against the glossy white wall of the hospital waiting area, hoping to God that things would be okay, as John B and Sarah rubbed his back comfortingly.

The one time JJ didn't pray might have been the one time he should. He'd been stabbed, by his son of a bitch father. Not Luke, the "real one" though JJ found it almost funny how he preferred to think of Luke fuckin' Maybank as his actual father. At least Luke had never tried to stab him. But that was beside the point; JJ had been stabbed, and things were not looking good. John B had felt for a pulse and had felt nothing. JJ can still remember the feeling of floating away, like riding a wave to the horizon. He hadn't prayed then. Instead, he'd made peace with his fate. He'd lived a pretty damn full life in 20 years, and if this was the end of it, so be it. At least on the other side, no one would be trying to hurt him, right? That sounded mighty nice to him. So he'd closed his eyes and let himself drift off towards that horizon.

Only instead, he'd woken up in a hospital, still very much alive. His best friends at his side. Pope and Kiara barely left his side, and John B had practically crawled into the bed with him to hold him in his arms until a nurse had yelled at him. JJ doesn't remember feeling such love until that moment. And that was when it all changed. He'd been given a second chance, and an opportunity to see just how loved and valued he is. He was never going to squander it or take it for granted again.

The sun is sinking lower, the water in front of him glittering in gold. JJ pushes his wet hair back off his forehead to admire it. Years ago he'd have just shrugged it off. Sunsets were a dime a dozen. Not anymore though. Now JJ takes the moment to sit and watch and appreciate.

He glances back to the shore, where his wife and baby are playing in the sand. Harley John Maybank's (it'd be a cold day in hell if JJ ever took the name of that man) new favorite thing was trying to rush to the water, his mom and dad hot on his heels. JJ could tell already that Harley was going to be a handful, and he couldn't fucking wait.

The waves were rising higher. It'd make for a sick surf tonight. JJ bites his lip, turns and paddles back to the shore. Some priorities rank higher than waves.

He tucks his board under his arm and hurries over to where the two of you are building a sandcastle with Harley's little castle-shaped buckets.

"Hey, baby," you glance up at your husband, reaching out and touching his cheek with his hand, always little assurances like that to make sure he's real, "Not surfing?"

"Nah," JJ shakes some water from his head, "Much rather'd build sand castles with this little one," he ruffles Harley's head of blonde hair, glistening in the sunlight.

You can't help but smile as he sinks down into the damp sand to help Harley stuff sand into his buckets. Moments like these is when it truly hits you, just how blessed you are.

JJ gently helps Harley, his eyes so soft and full of love and devotion. Harley John is his utmost pride and joy. He's always been soft with you, but the gentleness in which he treats your son is beyond anything you could imagine.

JJ packs the sand into the bucket with the back of a little plastic shovel. He wonders if maybe there was a time he'd done this as a boy, but shakes the thought from his head. It doesn't matter. He can do it now. He can do it with Harley.

"Sarah called earlier," your voice pulls JJ from his thoughts, "She and John B are going to have Baby Jackson christened. John B is supposed to ask you to be the godfather tomorrow, but Sarah couldn't wait to tell me. You know the two of them, it's not a church thing or anything. Just The Pogues and the ocean."

"Sounds nice," JJ says, wrapping his arms around Harley and pulling him softly onto his lap.

JJ reaches for your hand, pulling you to him as well. He presses a kiss the back of your hand, holding your hand and running his thumb over your knuckles. Nothing ever feels one hundred percent real unless JJ can feel it, touch it, revel in it. He tosses his head back as the evening breeze licks through his hair.

And in that moment, JJ can't help but stop and say thank you.

Because JJ Maybank lives every day in paradise.

#jj maybank #obx fic #obx imagine #jj mayback imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x yn #jj maybank x you #outer banks fic #outer banks #obx

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hearts4hughes · 2 months ago

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a/n: i saw this tiktok and KNEW i had to write something about it. this entire trend is turning my writing wheels😭😭

this was it. the very moment you’d been waiting for. the moment when you could finally prove to rafe that you weren’t just sarah’s best friend. that you could be hot and sexy like the girls he flirted with. hell, this was your chance to erase every embarrassing exchange between you and him beforehand and replace it with something different.

when sarah told you about a cameron family beach day and invited you, you immediately accepted. it wasn’t long before you were at her door clad in your cutest bikini and beach bag in hand. she gushed in excitement, rambling off about all the fun things you could do together. yet, your focus was on rafe as you stared at him out of sarah’s bedroom window.

his muscles flexed as he carried bags into the car. his sad excuse of a shirt exposed the sides of his rock-hard stomach and impeccable arms. your mouth watered as your mind went straight to the gutter.

you quickly snapped yourself out of it when sarah playfully smacked your arm, muttering something about how you were zoning out again. “come on, let’s go before rafe leaves without us.” she teased, grabbing your hand and dragging you downstairs.

the car ride to the beach was nothing short of torture. sarah kept talking a mile a minute, oblivious to the way your eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror to catch glimpses of rafe. he was sitting up front, one hand lazily gripping the steering wheel, the other tapping against his thigh in time with the music blasting through the car. you were convinced he caught you staring a few times, but if he did, he didn’t say anything.

you couldn’t shake the nerves bubbling in your stomach as you stepped out of the car, the warm sand crunching beneath your feet. sarah was already running ahead, dragging her towel and cooler behind her, but you hung back, adjusting the straps of your bikini nervously.

“need help carrying that?” rafe’s voice startled you. you turned to find him standing closer than expected, his signature smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“n-no, i’m good.” you stammered, clutching your bag tighter. smooth, you thought. real smooth.

he raised an eyebrow. “suit yourself.” he said, effortlessly slinging a surfboard over his shoulder before heading down to the water. you watched him go, trying not to let your jaw hit the sand.

a few hours later, after you’d settled in and soaked up the sun, sarah was dragging you into the waves. “you have to at least try surfing,” she insisted, shoving a board into your hands. “rafe’s great at it. he can teach you.”

that was how you ended up waist-deep in the ocean, trying not to panic as rafe waded toward you. he was grinning, the sun highlighting the sharp angles of his face. “alright, you ready to learn, or are you just gonna stand there staring at me?”

you felt your cheeks heat up instantly. “i—I’m ready.” you said, trying to sound confident.

his hands were on your waist, steadying you as you struggled to balance on the board. his voice was low, teasing but encouraging, as he guided you through each step. and when you finally managed to stand up and ride a wave, the feeling was nothing short of euphoric.

you threw your hands in the air, laughing and cheering as the wave carried you to the shore. it wasn’t until you turned back to look at rafe that you noticed his expression had changed. he looked… stunned.

and then it hit you.

the cold breeze against your chest. the way the straps of your bikini top floated beside you in the water.

your bikini top was gone.

your blood ran cold as the realization sank in. you froze, your arms instinctively crossing over your chest, but it was too late. rafe was already swimming toward you, water glistening on his toned chest, his smirk so wide it almost hurt to look at.

“well, that’s one way to celebrate,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement. “didn’t know surfing was that freeing.”

“oh my god,” you whispered, face burning hotter than the sun as you tried to back away toward the shore, but rafe cut you off, stepping closer.

“relax,” he said, his tone playful as his eyes flicked down for just a second too long. “it’s not like i’m complaining or anything.”

“rafe!” you hissed, glaring at him as you crossed your arms tighter over your chest. “this is not funny.”

“you’re right. it’s not funny.” he paused, letting his eyes meet yours. “it’s hilarious.”

you let out a frustrated groan and tried to make a run for it, but rafe caught your arm, pulling you to a stop. “hey, hey. i’m kidding,” he said, though the grin on his face didn’t falter. he reached for the shirt draped over his shoulder—a rarity for him to even have one—and handed it to you. “here, cover up. unless you’d rather me keep enjoying the view?”

“you’re the worst,” you muttered, snatching the shirt from his hand and pulling it over your head as quickly as possible. the muscle shirt didn’t cover much than before, but it’d have to work.

“yeah, but you love it,” he shot back, his teasing grin only widening when you glared at him. “besides, you looked great out there— on the board, i mean. though, uh, this new look isn’t bad either.”

you rolled your eyes. “just help me find my top,” you mumbled, desperate to change the subject.

“anything for you,” he said, winking as he turned toward the water. “but if we don’t find it, i’m sure i can think of a few other excuses to keep you in my shirt.”

you blushed, shaking your head as he chuckled. “just get to searching, surfer boy.”

#hearts4hughes #nora’s writings 💐#rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #drew starkey

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i-love-ptv · 2 months ago

Text

Teach Me ─★•♛•★─

Pairing: Boyfriend!Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Girlfriend!Reader

Surfing’s all you’ve known since you were young, so of course you’re going to spread the love with your darling boyfriend. It’s a harmless, family friendly activity, what could possibly happen?

Wc: 2,506

SMUTTT!! —Exhibitionism? (They fuck on a beach but nobody else is there) P in V, unprotected sex, no pulling out (SORRYYY) Porn w/ plot

An: GUYSSSS I was on my mf GRIND to get this out for yall!!!! I’m so excited I love it, I’m planning to (hopefully) post a few more fics w Rafe n pogue reader (baby’s name is Buttercup!!)

Feedback is always welcomed and encouraged! xx

“I can’t believe you got me out here, babe.” Rafe groans playfully; his chest rises as he laughs.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” You drag out, your hand resting on his bicep as you walk backwards while facing him.

Your flip-flops slap against your feet in the sand, your hand reaches up, pulling the strap of the heavy beach bag up onto your shoulder again. Rafe’s holding two surfboards; freshly waxed, and one a tad bigger than the other.

It’s rather early— well, not sunrise, but not afternoon. You figured it’d be best to go to the beach around this time, the waves wouldn’t be as high on this breezy morning, so you can finally teach Rafe how to surf.

Your love for surfing emerged when you moved to Kildare; you had met a boy back in elementary school. He was always sporting a backwards cap, his golden hair always peaking out at you.

Turns out, his name was Jackson, JJ for short, and he befriended you almost immediately. Once you both found out that the two of you lived close by, every day was spent together, alongside his best friend John B.

They both taught you how to surf, it took a few months to get the hook of it but that’s besides the point.

…It also doesn’t help that your “teachers” were third (soon to be fourth) graders. How did they even know how to surf? Who knows.

You’ve been surfing longer than you haven't, which is why you vowed to get your boyfriend of two years to join you just one time.

You abruptly stop, making Rafe’s hard chest bump into your back.

“Jesus, babe-“

“Stop! This is the perfect spot.” You stare off into the glistening water, ignoring the look of disbelief on Rafe’s face. He mumbles a few words under his breath half-heartedly, but you don’t seem to care.

You begin to sit everything down, laying the hot pink beach blanket down on the sand. Rafe’s standing there rather awkwardly, waiting for your eventual command.

You turn around, sunblock in hand, “…Y’know you can sit those down, right?” You look him up and down with a questioning look on your face, your tone making his cheeks flush.

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Rafe says with a cough. “I was just uh—pumping these babies, y’know? Maintaining my physique since someone won’t let me go to the gym today.” You roll your eyes at the sight of Rafe (poorly) using the surfboards as if they were dumbbells to do bicep curls.

“Uh-huh. Put those down so I can put your sunblock on.” You look at Rafe expectantly, hand on your hip and all. If it weren’t for your ridiculous remark, Rafe would’ve smirked at your attitude.

“I don’t need sunblock, Buttercup,” Rafe says with a scoff.

Your stance doesn’t change, and your expression doesn’t falter in the slightest. Rafe knows you won’t budge, and you’ll most likely (you will) stand here all day until he gets off his high-horse. So he sighs, and reluctantly steps forward into your arms, making you grin.

You put the sunblock on your hands, rubbing them together before leaving a small smack to Rafe’s face. “Quit it,” Rafe hisses due to the coldness, grabbing your wrists before they could continue to rub his face.

You giggle madly, “Hurry up, let me put this on!” Rafe’s pushing your hands away from his face, while you’re pushing them towards him.

You go back and forth for a little bit with smitten smiles sticking, before Rafe finally allows you to continue.

After maybe fifteen minutes, you both are fully covered, and you swear you can already feel the sun’s rays reflecting off of you.

“Alright, c’mon you big lug,” you tease, pulling him towards the water.

“You’ve been practicing how to pop-up like I showed you, right? Cause it’s even harder to do it on water compared to doing it on land.” You question, looking up at him.

“Yes, mom, I did the homework you assigned me.” Rafe rolls his eyes; he may just be the sassiest guy you know.

You side-eye him, not really believing his remarks. “Oh yeah? Lemme see, right here.”

“Actually, can you give me a demonstration? Y’know, in the water..” Rafe trails off.

“Thought you had it down. sweetheart?” You purse your lips at him. “Yeah, obviously I do. I just need to see it all together. I’m a visual learner, Buttercup.” Rafe flirts, but it completely goes over your head, you’re entirely too excited to surf to even realize.

“Okay, just pay attention real closely, Ray.” You grin at the light brown-haired boy. If Rafe didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought it was Christmas day with the way your eyes were lit up. It almost made Rafe feel bad for the sinful thoughts plaguing his mind.

Almost.

You turn towards the water, walking away from your boyfriend, and his bright eyes roam across your body.

The way that your swimsuit hugged your body nearly made him drool. He swore he nearly cried when you said you’d be wearing a one-piece because it’s easier to surf in, but god is he glad to see it. Your ass peaks out more and more as you walk, and if Rafe doesn’t cool it with the day-dreaming, he’ll be sporting a boner. And that’ll ruin his plan entirely if you saw it.

What is Rafe’s plan, you ask? It’s quite simple really. You see, Rafe honestly didn’t give a shit about surfing. It wasn’t his thing, golf and basketball were. But he couldn’t deny you: his sweet angel, trying to indulge in your favorite activity since you were a child.

Rafe knew that you’ll just be the one surfing all day, while he merely observed. Some may call it perverted, and maybe he is a bit, but Rafe can’t help but want to watch you: wearing little clothing, and soaking wet.

Rafe sees you up on your surfboard, and you look nothing short of ethereal. The sun glistened off your body perfectly, your hair that was once up, now starts to limp down, but Rafe doesn’t mind—not at all, he can’t when you’re on top of that board as gracefully as you are.

The waves flow around you effortlessly, the ripples make your form sway, but you don’t falter even for a second; you never do under any circumstance, and Rafe thinks that’s his favorite thing about you.

You cheer and put your hands up wildly as you ride the white water to the shore. “Did you see me babe? That shit was sick right?!” You exclaim while running towards him, your board long-gone in the damp sand.

Rafe stands up immediately, allowing you to jump into his muscular arms. “Of course I did, baby! You’re amazing.” Rafe speaks softly, he then presses a kiss to your forehead, squeezing you closer to his broad, firm chest.

Before you can get another word in, Rafe’s kissing you deeply; his arms hold you tightly, not allowing your feet to touch the ground.

You place your hands on his face, guiding his lips astray from yours, and he tries to chase them, but he’s unsuccessful. “It’s your turn, Ray.” You whisper, peering at him with your widely-blown eyes.

“Later, angel.” He murmurs, leaning back into you.

His fingers dance across your skin, and you can feel the hunger behind the kiss; you meet him with just as much fever.

You knew of Rafe’s game as soon as you stepped into the car this morning, he was far too enthusiastic about the idea compared to his moans and complaints the night prior when you brought it up.

You weren’t that oblivious to the sneaky glances he threw your way, and his blatant staring at your covered up swimsuit. One day, Rafe will understand just how much you let him get away with.

But for right now, you let him gently lay you down onto the blanket as he kneels into the sand. You let him trail his kisses from your coconut chapstick-covered salty lips down your neck. You’re so glad nobody’s here.

Rafe’s suckling at your neck, no doubt leaving dark hickies on your skin. You both moan in unison.

You grab onto Rafe’s meaty shoulders, leaving crescent shaped marks on his rosy skin. You bite your lip as he continues to go further down your body, he now resides at your cleavage.

“I knew what you were doing the whole time, y’know that, Ray?” You let out an airy chuckle, alongside a breath that was begging to be pushed out.

“Yeah? That means you wanted me just as bad, huh Buttercup?” Rafe whispers cockily, you physically feel his smirk as he starts to nibble on your ear hotly.

“‘F course…Always want you, baby.” You giggle sweetly in his ear. You can feel Rafe’s boner prodding at your stomach, and it only makes you wetter.

“How about I teach you something, hm? How does that sound sweetheart?” Rafe’s now grinding down on your clothed core, your hand finds the back of his neck, your fingers apply the right amount of pressure that gets Rafe going.

“You can do whatever you want with me.” You whisper, as Rafe begins to pull your bathing suit down; the wet material now resting below your belly button.

You whimper softly as Rafe’s tongue meets your nipples, his swirling movements have your back arching up towards him.

“Hey, baby? I know I literally just said you can do whatever, but I need you to stop all this teasin’ shit.” You pant.

Rafe smirks yet again, a part of you wants to wipe it off his face, but the other part just wants to suck him dry while all he can do is smirk.

“Yeah? What do y’want me to do angel?”

“God, just fuck me already Rafe!” You practically whine. The brunette wastes little time in stripping both you and him bare.

“Thought you loved foreplay,” Rafe’s nearly mocking you at this point, it’s borderline cruel but you can’t find a fuck to give.

“I’ve really had it with that mouth of yours today, either fuck me right here, or I’ll leave you will blue balls for the rest of the day.”

Rafe holds his hand out to your face and you lean up awkwardly, spitting on his palm. He pumps himself a few times before he slides into you. “I fuckin’ love when you threaten me. You’re so hot,” Rafe slurs as his cock nestles deeply inside of you, before almost pulling out completely.

“F-fuck..” You gasp as Rafe begins to pick up speed. His thrusts jostle your body, your tits bouncing as he slobbers in between them.

His balls slap against your skin as you cry out; Rafe’s not any better either. His chest heaves as he lets out deep, guttural moans.

“Yeah, that’s it baby. Take it.” Rafe emphasizes his words with the rough snapping of his hips. You swear your mouth is touching the sand at this point with the way your moans pour out of your mouth.

“Right there, Rafe!” You can’t help but shout, you can feel him everywhere inside. His dick kisses your cervix, leaving you a mewling mess.

Rafe’s the only man you’ve been with that’s ever been able to make you feel utterly cock-drunk, you both are aware of this. You’ve told him before that the others you’ve been with haven't been able to make you climax as good as Rafe does. He fucks you roughly, yet he always makes sure you feel loved and comfortable throughout.

Rafe nudges your hand, which has a death grip on the blanket beneath you both. His large hands intertwine with your smaller ones.

You can’t tell if you’re tearing up from the love from your boyfriend, or from the brutal pace he’s set on. —Most likely the latter.

The way your pussy tightens around him has Rafe’s mind feeling utterly fuzzy. All he can focus on is you. He knows it’s a matter of time before people start showing, so Rafe uses the hand that held your waist to rub small, yet precise circles onto your clit.

Your bare chest is against his, the skin-on-skin contact making you feel as if you’re on cloud nine on top of the stimulation.

“Ray…Ray I’m c-close, baby.” You can’t barely get a word in. You use your hand to push his back down, trying to somehow get him even closer to you.

Rafe opens his eyes to look at you, since they were squeezed shut moments prior.

You’re laying there, hair spread around your head almost in a halo-like manner, and it doesn’t help that the sun is shining down onto you beautifully. If anything, it makes Rafe’s cock twitch inside of you more.

“Yeah. I’m right with you, Buttercup. I promise.” His breath fans your face, as yours does his.

“Please cum with me. Please—Please baby, please give it to me.” Rafe continues to whine and babble in your ears, pleading for you to give him your release as he starts to reach his.

He can’t be bothered to glance around for possible on-lookers, not when you squeak out weak ‘uh-uh-uh’s.

The pornographic moans which come from the both of you fill the air like a cloud of smoke. You're squeezing his hand as he squeezes your hip, no doubt leaving a bruise behind.

With one strong thrust, Rafe shoots his load inside of you with a high pitch, breathy groan, you feel your euphoric release shortly after.

“Fu-uck,” Rafe hiccups. “‘M sorry, I wanted you to cum first but you were squeezin’ s’much and—“ You interrupted his barely coherent rambling with a kiss to his lips, words of reassurance spilling from your mouth.

Rafe takes a spare towel and gently cleans you, he mumbles and apologizes after you hiss at the contact. He takes his shirt which was once discarded after he cleans himself, then covers your frame. He quickly pulls his shorts back up.

You lay shoulder to shoulder with him, and you crane your neck to look at him with a giddy smile, which Rafe reciprocates immediately.

“I love you, baby.” He speaks softly, not wanting to be any louder than the waves that flow a few feet away from the two of you.

“I love you too, Ray.” You hum tiredly while you curl into him.

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks up, momentarily stopping the circles he was rubbing onto your skin. “…You’re still on the pill, right?”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you!” You cackle at him, Rafe tries to maintain his facade but his face breaks as he joins in the laughter.

“I’m serious! That’s a serious question!” Rafe digs his digits into your side, tickling you as he rolls on top of you.

“Whatever! I’m still going to teach you how to surf one day, loser!” You yell with a giggle.

And the thing is, he’ll let you teach him; anything your heart desires.

#lee’s writing! ₍ᐢ. ̫.ᐢ₎#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #obx imagine #obx x reader #obx x you #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #obx fic #outer banks #Spotify

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