vavafaure1994

[vavafaure1994]

Her Biggest Fan Part 3

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Who doesn't love a good fantasy or escape from our normal lives. When Y/N started this online adventre she never dreamed it would land her smack dab in the path of her favorite actor. Is there a chance this fantasy might become reality? And will the reality live up to the fantasy?

Warnings: fluff, talk about divorce, talk about trauma, language, soft Jensen, a little sexual innuendo

Authors Note: Here you go! I love that y’all are loving the hell out of this story. Don’t worry smut is coming !! I wouldn’t leave you guys hanging :) I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only.

Catch up with part two here | Masterlist

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Jay: So can I ask why you started doing OnlyFans sweetheart?

You’re relaxing on the back deck tonight, watching the horses graze in the west pasture. Today was busy around here. Your kids came home from their dad’s house, you had your friends and their children over for a fire and BBQ. There is nothing that beats a beautiful summer evening hanging with friends.

Now the kids are tucked into bed after video chatting with your ex husband to say good night and you are finally enjoying nothing but the night creatures making noise as you decompress.

Jensen and you have been chatting all day. He’s up here in Canada filming again. I guess that means he can text more often without having his wife asking questions.

The more you talk, the more you two are becoming closer. It’s a surreal feeling considering you’ve never met the man a day in your life.

Me: At first it was for fun honestly. I am single, get bored easily, and needed the extra money anywhere I could get it. I had done it once before when I was still married, that didn’t end up going well in the end. This time around I didn’t have anyone looking over my shoulder or getting jealous constantly about something that didn’t matter in the end so I figured why not. Any side hustle I can start that can make me some extra money to throw at the life I have, I’ll take.

Jay: So the ex didn’t enjoy it?

Me: In the beginning he did. He got all the videos and photos sent to him and he even was in some of them. Helped pick out outfits. That best friend he’s with now, she was doing it with me and that was when they started getting closer and cheating on me. If I had to guess he was afraid I would do what he was already doing to me.

Jay: Ah, so it was his guilt playing with his jealousy. I guess I don’t have much room to talk.

Me: I’m going to say your situation is different. You guys are just staying together for show not so much because one of you is still holding onto hope for the marriage.

Jay: No, I don’t think many people will see it that way of it ever gets out though.

Me: People judge what they don’t know. I have a question?

Jay: Shoot!

Me: Does Danneel know about me?

There’s a long silence between it showing that he read the message and any sort of response. You’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Their marriage might be over, but they were still married to one another, how was that affecting her?

Better yet, what did that mean for you? Was she going to come after you or blame you for something. Or was she completely fine with it? There are a lot of questions now that you know who he is.

You wish you could talk to your best friend about it. Problem is you haven’t told her who Jay turned out to be. It’s not that you think she wouldn’t believe you, more that you don’t want to throw him under the bus. Jensen and you have been developing a good foundation for a deeper connection between you, while you know your best friend wouldn’t say a word, you still feel like you shouldn’t say anything without his consent.

Especially considering who he is and what he’s currently going through. Divorce is rough as hell without some woman running her mouth and it getting out to the world.

Ding.

Jay: Yes, she knows that I’m talking to someone and you make me smile. Like I said it’s complicated. If we are around family or friends we have to act married and happy. That also means I can’t be on my phone texting this beautiful country girl who brightens my day no matter what. However, when it’s just her and I in the house she asks about you. I give general answers and try to keep the personal stuff at bay. Dee actually badly wants to speak with you, she’s asked for your number many times.

Me: I’m sorry what? She wants to talk to me?

Jay: Haha does that sound weird? It’s not I swear. She started to notice a difference in my behaviour when we started getting close and was curious. For a year now Dee actually has had a boyfriend herself. We talk about their relationship once in a while. We never separated on bad terms, but there was a long period where it was just weird to be around each other and having to act in love still kinda sets us on edge. Before I met you, I tried to avoid her as much as possible. Still do but we are slowly working on a friendship again.

Me: No not weird. It's what my ex husband and I try to do as well. His girlfriend happens to get in the way alot and makes it more difficult, we do try our best though, there are days when it's a cage match because she has meddled and we take it out on each other. Nothing is gonna be perfect, but if you can find a way to accept and co parent with minimum conflict, not only does that help your mental health with divorce but it benefits your kids as well.

This conversation is getting deeper than you pictured for tonight. You've noticed that has been happening more and more since he sent the photo last week.

Assuming he feels like a giant weight has been lifted from his shoulders now that he no longer has to hide who he is from you. Being able to be complete honest has a relaxing effect on ones soul in the end.

I'm glad he trusts me enough to be this honest and relaxed with me.

Well you would enjoy a romantic relationship with this man, the solid foundation you have been building through these last few months has been just as amazing if not more so.

Jay: You're pretty smart you know that. I got a million questions for you pretty lady, I can honestly say I've never met someone like you.

Me: I ain't nothing special Jay. Just a single mom who lives on a farm and trying to figure out how to live this life in my new normal.

Jay: You don't give yourself enough credit sweetheart, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.

Me: You're sweet Jay.

-- Incoming FaceTime From Jay --

Oh fuck off right now, seriously.

Reluctantly you answer the call. It's both extremely tempting to see him "in person" per say but also nerve racking as hell. Come on he is Jensen fucking Ackles, even if I have had emotional conversations with him and made him cum over and over again, this is still scarier as fuck.

The call loads and your screen is invade by a beautiful green eyed man standing in the kitchen of his trailer, eating. Smiling at you with his signature childish grin as he waves hello.

Chuckling at the man in front of you, "Hi Jay."

"Hey Darling." He grabs the phone off the counter and moves to the bed, laying down with a grunt.

"Long day I take it?"

"Lots of fight scenes today. I enjoy it, but I'm getting too old for this shit."

You can't stop the laghter that bubbles up from his comment. Jensen gives you his best bitch face, "awe that's so cute, you're trying to look mad."

"So sassy in person ain't ya sweetheart."

"You don't even know the half of it big guy. For the record you aren't old, you're lie whiskey... get betters with age."

"I go down just as smooth too," sending you a flirty wink before softly chuckling.

Fuck me, this man is something else.

"Oh look at you with those one liners. You look exhausted. It's late here, I'm guessing it's late there as well."

Rolling onto his side, "yeah it is. I had an urge to see you in and talk to you instead of texting. Seeing you right now makes losing sleep completely worth it."

"I'm glad you called, however I am saying you are going to bed. No fighting."

Smiling softly he lets out a yawn, "no fighting, good night baby girl. I'll talk withh you tomorrow."

You sign off and head inside to get ready for bed yourself. The new development of this relationship has you floating on cloud 9.

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Taglist:

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @spnaquakindgdom @nancymcl @tspmoff @lessons-of-red @supershygirl @yvonneeeee @syrma-sensei @neii3n @leigh70 @idontwannabehere78 @foxyjwls007 @kimxwinchester @multiversefanfics @mostlymarvelgirl @chilledbabydoll @senjoritanana @deansimpalababy @impala67rollingthroughtown @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @barnes70stark @maggiegirl17 @justwhisperingfantasies @jamerlynn

[vavafaure1994]

Her Biggest Fan- Part 2

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Who doesn't love a good fantasy or escape from our normal lives. When Y/N started this online adventre she never dreamed it would land her smack dab in the path of her favorite actor. Is there a chance this fantasy might become reality? And will the reality live up to the fantasy?

Warnings: talk of trauma, talk about divorce, language, fluffy Jensen

Authors Note: Here's part two that you were waiting for guys! I hope you enjoy. I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only.

Catch up with part one here. | Masterlist

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Jay: Do you ever regret your marriage?

You get asked this question a lot. Although it’s usually by friends and family not a complete stranger you met online.

Jay’s the only client you have that knows the truth about what went down. It’s strange but you feel like he never lies to you, in return you don’t lie to him. You leave out personal details and such but he has a general idea of what went down in your life.

Me: No. sounds weird considering what happened but I don’t. For a long time we were happy and in love. We had two beautiful babies together and at the time he was everything I wanted. People grow apart, it happens. Does that make what they did right? No, but it did make getting over him a lot easier.

It’s the truth. I don’t have many regrets in life. I’ve lived it basically the way I’ve always wanted. Sure we all make mistakes, we’re human, but I wouldn’t change what happened for the world. At that time in my life my ex husband was everything I could have wanted or needed.

Those needs and wants changed as the years went on. I grew up and he basically stayed 18 years old. That led to fights and bickering, which eventually led to him chasing my best friend and her becoming the other woman.

The day he left I lost not only my husband but my friend. It sucked. But again, I wouldn’t change how it happened. She was very much not a friend if she was willing to destroy my family instead of telling him to back off when he started flirting with her.

She’s just as much to blame as he is. I do hate her more though. I’ll be waiting to watch karma kick her ass in time.

Jay: That’s what I like about you, a horrible thing happens to you and here you are looking at the good side and taking the positive from it. So many people would be shallow and vindictive.

Me: Haha don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my moments within this divorce where I wasn’t close to happy go lucky or I was screaming at her in her drive way. I ain’t no angel. But in the long run I don’t get the point in living life in misery. I’m happy with myself and my life, my kids are happier, that’s all that matters to me.

Jay: You’re a good mom you know that.

Me: Jay, baby you don’t know me.

Jay: I know enough :) from what you say, I don’t need to know you in person. People who aren’t good parents don’t talk about their kids like you do. You put your own emotions away to make sure they have a good life… trust me that isn’t a common thing.

Me: fucking should be. Why have kids if you’re gonna be selfish.

Jay: There are people out there who have kids with their partners because either they thought it would save their relationship or they believed it was what the other wanted and wanted to make them happy. There are many reasons I'm sure, I think as you do however, shouldn't have them unless you want to be a parent and enjoy the good as much as the bad fo parenthood.

Me: Sorry if this is prying too much but you sound like you are talking from experience?

Jay: Guess I am sweetheart.

Me: Would you want to talk about it?

The two of you have been chatting for months now. You've grown close, you also don't intrude into his personal life unless he brings it up himself. This is why you don't if he's married, have kids, or in general who he is.

By no means is it that you don't want to get to know him on a deeper level, at the end of the day though that isn't why most of these men pay you and you know that.

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It's Friday and your best friend is out on the farm today with her kiddos. The two of you are working on fixing some of your fencing today as the kids run like lunatics in the field.

"He's married with kids?"

"Three of them apparently."

"How do you feel about that?" I love how concerned she is for my mental health and heart. I can guarantee properly over half of my clients are married, I'm also guessing a lot of kids. The way I see OnlyFans is no diifferent than porn. Men and women use it to escape or relax for a moment.

I love her concern for me but there is no reason for it. Jay is a great distraction and escape from my hectic life. He's amazing to chat with but I'm by no means shocked he has a wife and kids.

Lighting a smoke, we take a break from the job at hand, "I'm not shocked, most of the guys I talk with probably are honestly. It's not a dating website by any means."

"He seems perfect though, just so weird to imagine him married now."

"Thats where they fantasy comes in to play girl. That's the whole point."

Your phone dings on the back of your truck.

Jay: How's fencing going darling?

Me: Good, taking a break right now. Watching the kids be crazy in the field.

Jay: So jealous right now :)

Me: Haha jealous of me sweating, arms sore from hammering in staples and stretching fencing? God what are you doing that this sounds better to you haha?

Jay: We have family over for the weekend. There isn't a moment of peace today. I am hiding in my bathroom right now.

Me: Family is nice once in a while though. I do understand the peace thing.

Jay: Family isn't the problem sweetheart.

Me: Then what is?

Jay: Umm...

.....

Moments passed and the bubbles at the bottom of the screen and disappear repeatedly before they are gone for a couple minutes.

Going back to the task at hand you can't shake the feeling that he is struggling with something much worse than he has let on in the past.

Ding.

Grabbing you're phone you are shocked when a paragraph comes through.

Jay: My marriage hasn't been the best the last couple years. We are staying together for the kids. However, we haven't shared any of the problems with anyone in our family or friends, keeping up the happy couple facade is tiring. She tries too hard to show that we love each other still when in reality for years we've been sleeping in seperate rooms, barely interacting, I throw myself into work more and more. However, divorce is tricky considering how our life is.

Wow. You weren't expecting that at all. Would explain why he had no problem opening up and getting close with you as much as texting each other daily allows.

Me: Divorce sucks no matter why it happens. Trust me I know how that feels. I also understand the drama that can come from friends and family. All I can say is if you aren't happy Jay, suffering to keep your family together for your kids sake will be more damaging for them than you and your wife being miserable together.

Jay: It goes beyond that.

Me: What do you mean?

There is a pause again after you press send. Your friend looking at you with a confused look on her face, "What's up?"

"Oh just stuff Jay and I are talking about. He's confessing some shit to me is all and I'm trying to help him as best as I can."

She doesn't press because she knows I don't tell her personal information. I share vague details or stuff that I have said to him but nothing more. You're clients pay for you to keep your mouth shut about what they say or do. Unless it's something dangerous or concerning there is no reason to run my mouth with information people trust me to keep to myself.

We are working on the last strand of fencing when your phone goes off again about 10 minutes later.

Your phone tells me its an image that has been sent.

Oh my fucking god, he is going to reveal who he is to me. You are both excited and scared to open the message. You aren't sure why he would send a photo in response to what you sent to him, but you know he has a reason for it.

Half figuring it may be a dick pic to get you both off the heavy subject and create a fun atmosphere for you to play in again. Opening his message thread, you're jaw fucking drops as you stare at your screen.

What the fuck.

No god damn way is this real.

There sitting on your texting thread is a photo of a beautiful, green eyed man with a sad smile on his face. The selfie has been taking in a bathroom, assuming it's the one he's currently hiding in.

For the past 5 months you've been playing out this fantasy in your head everytime the two of you text to one another. Dear god you've seen his cock hard, soft, leaking pre cum, and full on cumming from the images you have placed in his mind. Turns out your fantasy has been reality.

You've been getting close with Jensen Ackles... Jensen fucking Ackles pays to talk with you every freaking day. You brain miss fires as you try to understand the reality that has hit you square in the face.

Me: Wow. I'm not going to lie that was the last thing I was expecting when I opened your message. With that being said I understand what you mean about it being more complicated, that still doesn't mean that you have to live a miserable life because of who you are. Yes, you are famous. You are still just a human and you deserve to live a life full of happiness and excitement and adventures. To love someone who loves you back just as much. Someone who would be honoured to lay next to you and talk about what you did at work that day.

Jay: Does this change things between us?

Me: Fuck no! I mean we've talked about how I'm a fan of your shows, so if it does for you than I would understand. As for me, I'm going to treat you as I do normally. Hate to break it to you Jensen, you're just a guy ;)

Jay: Fuck me woman. You are incredible you know that. Most woman would find out who I am and completely freak out. They would treat me different and try so hard to impress me. You on the other hand, you humble me with one sentence haha.

Me: You're a human. You have a good job, that you are great at. You are a dad. You have good days and bad days. You are funny, smart, make dumbass choices, and live a life you want. You are like everyone else. My guess is the last thing you want is someone who has spent numours nights making you cum and seeing your cock fan girl over you.

Jay: Yeah that would be awkward. Thank you sweetheart. So I have to ask, I'm guessing -your screen name- isn't your real name, any chance I can know your actual name?

Me: It's y/n.

Jay: Beautiful name for a beautiful woman :) I should get back out there. Talk later?

Me: Of course. I'm here when you need me Jay.

Your friend left a few hours later. You made supper for your kids and dropped them off with your ex husband for the weekend. By the time you got home Jensen has messaged you again. You can't fight the smile that crosses your face when his name pops up on your screen.

You never thought your fantasy would ever become a reality.

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Read Part Three Here

Taglist:

@impala67rollingthroughtown @bitchykittenconnoisseur @deansimpalababy @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lessons-of-red @spnaquakindgdom @yvonneeeee @syrma-sensei @nancymcl @tspmoff @idontwannabehere78 @foxyjwls007 @senjoritanana @leigh70 @neii3n @maggiegirl17 @jamerlynn @mostlymarvelgirl @kimxwinchester @multiversefanfics @supershygirl @justwhisperingfantasies

[vavafaure1994]

Her Biggest Fan

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: Who doesn't love a good fantasy or escape from our normal lives. When Y/N started this online adventre she never dreamed it would land her smack dab in the path of her favorite actor. Is there a chance this fantasy might become reality? And will the reality live up to the fantasy?

Warnings: fluffy Jensen, talk about divorce, talk about trauma, language, some dirty talk

Authors Note: I love Jensen and his family. This is purely fiction and for entertainment purposes only. I am currently going through a divorce and I decided to pull from it and work out some trauma I have. I hope you enjoy, this is becoming a series so buckle up cause I have some wildly unhinged plans ;)

Masterlist

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Divorce is hard. Doesn't matter if you did it for your happiness, to remove yourself from a toxic relationship, or if you're like me and had absolutely no say in the matter what so ever.

The first few months you feel like your suffocating in your own house. The walls feel as if they are going to cave in and you aren't able to focus on anything what so ever. If you're like me then you went from what you thought was a loving marriage with two beautiful kids, to being a single parent in a blink of an eye.

Shit is rough!

Do I blame my ex husband for leaving me? Yes, in the beginning I did. However, as the months went on and I started to see him for who he truly was and how he treated people, lets just say my ex best friend did me a favor when she stole my husband and broke up my family.

Bitch can keep him now.

No matter how healed you are from the trauma a toxic marriage causes a person, when he has the kids and it's just you, the loneliness sets in.

We're human and all humans hate being alone with our darkest thoughts and demons. Sure I own a farm, work a full time job, and have an amazing best friend who talks with me daily and gets me out doing stuff. And yes I know I'm better off single than wanting my ex or anyone like him in my life.

But I still get lonely. I still crave someone who will put me first and wants to worship the ground I walk on. I mean who doesn't want love in their life.

That's the goal ain't it? Big beautiful family, love someone until you're old and gray, watching your kids grow up and start families of their own, and enjoy life to it's fullest.

Well I had that, for a little while at least. It was great and I will never regret my marriage, I just don't know if I want to risk it all again on the possibility it may go to shit on me.

So instead of getting out there and starting to date and find someone to be with, I did the oppisite. I started a second phone account and I created a fake identity for online purposes and created an OnlyFans account.

I have no one in my life that will get jealous, be offended, or cause problems because of it. I have always been the type of woman who not only enjoyed porn for my own personal use, but I never stopped my ex husband from watching it when he was away.

Look all you want, it was always the touching that pissed me off.

While I'm not ashamed of what I'm doing, I have a family and friends just like the next person and they don't need to know. I'm a grown ass woman and if I want to have some fun online so fucking be it.

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6 Months Later.

"How much money have you made from it?" Yes I caved and I ended up telling my best friend, to be fair her and I have no secrets. I hate secrets, I'm a honest person and there are times when even that's a problem, more so because I don't care who's feelings I hurt.

Don't want the truth, don't ask me then.

Shockingly enough I've done very well, way better than I thought I would. Guess it helps that I don't have anyone but my kids to worry about so I can give mt regulars the attention the pay for. Most of them just want to get off, easy enough considering I have been named the queen of sexting with them all.

Some of them are just looking for a person to talk to and enjoy their company. Either way I'm happy with both sides of the business.

Sitting on her front porch as we watch our kids ride their bikes and play together has been the highlight of my week. I love this woman to death and will forever be grateful after my ex best friend detorying my family, I was sent an angel like her. She doesn't judge me, she listens, makes me smile and laugh, helps me out as much as she can, and s there for my kids as much as she is for me.

Couldn't ask for a better friend if I tried.

"I'm doing pretty good. Made about $2000 last month alone. Funny how a silly little hobby out of boredom blossomed into a second career." inhaling a puff of my smoke, i hear my kids laughing as they climb a tree in the field across from us.

She starts laughing, "look at you go. Soon you'll be able to tell that ex husband to keep his money cause you won't need the child support."

That is the goal. Always was. He has a funny way of thinking because he gives child support monthly that means he still has a huge say in what I am allowed to do and go. Honestly, he still wants me to treat him like my husband and well that's not happening.

Needless to say we end up in a lot of fights that eventually result in a phone call or text message from him saying how he over reacted and he is sorry. Same old shit just a different day. He walked away from me and for some reason that just hasn't sunk into his head, he figures he can have a girlfriend and wife, again I ain't that girl.

Don't get me wrong, should he pay child support absolutely, but I was raised to be independent and to provide for my family. Not to mention it will bring me so much joy the day I tell him to shove his money where the sun don't shine because I don't need it anymore. Making him feel completely useless in my life is my goal, I'm going to show him that I don't need him to survive.

Just then my work phone goes off indicating I have a text message. Smiling I respond to Jay.

Jay: Hello beautiful. How's you're day going?

Me: Well hello handsome. It's going well, just hanging out with my bestie on her porch enjoying a glorious summers day.

Is he handsome, I got no idea. Jay is one of the guys I text daily. While we definitely have had our share of fun at night together making each other cum even though we are in two different countries, he is one of those men who wants a friend just as much as he wants release.

He's sweet, charming, kind, funny as hell, and if I believe what he says then he's a Texan boy born and raised. He won my heart right there, this country girl loves her some Texans.

However, the internet is where people go when they don't want to be known. Is Jay his name? I don't know. I haven't asked for a photo, all I've seen is his large hard cock when I'm teasing him all day before letting him cum. I respect that he probably doesn't want me know who he is and I'm okay with that. Hell not like I'm using my real name anyways.

I've grown attached to him in a way. He's definitely my favorite client. Maybe in another life we could meet and it would be heaven, but this is what I get and I'm okay with that.

Man for all I know he's married.

"Oh uh, I know that look, Jay's texting isn't he?"

"Oh shut up woman! But yes he is."

"Still have no idea what he looks like hey?"

"No."

"Just ask for a photo." God this is why I love her, she's exactly like me. No sugar coating shit, straight to the point every time and I am so thankful for it.

"Why? This way I have my fantasy and he has his. Hell I can pretend he's Jensen fucking Ackles and I'll never know the difference."

She burst out laughing, "really, you think Jensen is texting with you and randomly found you're OnlyFans one day?"

I join in on the laughing, she's right it sounds stupid, but hey it's a fantasy and nothing more, "no I don't, I'm not that crazy, but the fantasy is fun to dive in to."

"Yeah, okay I give you that."

My phone dings again.

Jay: It's killer in Texas today, summer is not our friend here.

Me: Haha I can only imagine from what you've told me. I still think it would be fun to live there.

Jay: I think so, but I'm bais. So just porch sitting with the bestie today?

Me: Hell yeah, momma deserves a break every once in a while. What about you?

Jay: I'm going out to the brewery today and meeting some buddies to hangout. Nothing spectacular.

Me: Man who makes his own beer, add in a whiskey distillery and you'd be the perfect man lol.

Jay: I'll keep that in mind sweetheart. Whiskey girl huh?

Me: Oh 100% nothing better in my eyes. Sitting outside once the kids are in bed, watching the sun set, whiskey in hand and nothing but the quiet of the night.

Jay: Damn that sounds amazing.

Jay: Your ex giving you anymore trouble?

Yeah you've told him about your ex husband. Lately, he's been unpredictable and grumpy more than he's not. You aren't shocked and you can handle his mood swings like a champ considering the 12 years you shared together. Mainly it just annoys the living piss out of you now.

Me: Nah, I put him back in his place where he belongs. Fucker don't scare me and he knows it. I hold all the power as much as he doesn't want to admit it.

You'd agreed to be civil and so far for the most part he was. Then you started going out and having fun while he was stuck at home with her being bored. The anger and resentment started to kick into overdrive. He started to come to the realization that he gave you all the freedom he was craving in life, and all he did was dump you for a more controling woman.

I mean the man can't even text you with her wanting to know ever detail of the conversation. Not like he actually tells her. Yet another reason I won't take him back, he's literally doing the same shit to her that he did to me, and she's dumb enough to by all his lies.

Most of the time you just have to not so gentle remind him he has a criminal record that you can bring to light in a courtroom and he would instantly lose everything and that usually shuts him the hell up for a while.

He's only saving grace is our kids we have together, if it wasn't for them I would have taken him to the cleaners the moment he left me for her.

Jay: Good girl. He needs to remember who left who in this situation.

Me: You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink Jay. I knew what was going to happen with this divorce. I know who I married so it never shocks me.

Jay: You still shouldn't have to deal with it.

Me: We have a farm and kids together, I'll be dealing with it until the day one of use finally croaks. You're sweet though for checking in on me and making sure I'm okay.

Jay: This may have started off as a way to release pent up frustration for me, but sweetheart you have grown on me. I couldn't imagine going a day without checking in on you. I know how that sounds considering we don't know each other and you've only seen my dick.

Me: It's a pretty amazing dick ;)

Jay: Awe, thank you honey. I wish there would be a day where I could show you just how amazing this dick truly is. Cause the things I want to do to you with it will probably seal my fate into Hell.

Me: Naughty boy. I do like the sounds of that though.

Jay: Probably should show you my face before that happens lol. I'm off baby girl, I'll text you in a while. Have a fun day relaxing with your kids and friend.

Me: You too Jay! Xx

Just then all 4 kids come running over to you together screaming how they are starving to death. You look at your friend and you both chuckle. Guess that means we are done relaxing for a moment. Off to make some lunch for us all.

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Read part two here.

Taglist:

@impala67rollingthroughtown @bitchykittenconnoisseur @deansimpalababy @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @lessons-of-red @spnaquakindgdom @yvonneeeee @syrma-sensei @nancymcl @tspmoff @idontwannabehere78 @foxyjwls007 @senjoritanana @leigh70 @neii3n @maggiegirl17 @jamerlynn @mostlymarvelgirl @kimxwinchester @multiversefanfics @supershygirl @justwhisperingfantasies

[vavafaure1994]

It All Started At A Con PT 2

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: What happens when you decide to text back the man with the emerald eyes.

Warnings: Angst, Talk about tragedy, Kissing, Fluff, Lead up to smut

Authors Note: Apparently this is turning into a series, so we are going to see where it goes. I mean no disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is purely fiction and created for entertainment purposes.

Catch up on part one here.

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“So are you going to text him back?” This has got to be the millionth time your best friend has asked you this question since the panel with Misha and Jensen. You’d be crazy not to. You’re currently living every fan girls dream, including your own, yet for some reason you can’t get the nerve to send him a response.

You’ve always been crazy confident and a shot from the hip kind of person. You don’t live life in the slow lane, it’s all or nothing. And yet here you are sitting on your bed while your best friend is trying to decide what to where for dinner staring at your phone like a love sick idiot.

Yeah I can probably thank my ex husband for that crap.

Apparently having enough of your silence and stalling, y/f/n walks over and takes your phone from you. Typing out a quick message then throwing it beside you on the bed.

“There. No more debating, it’s done.”

“What’s done?” You scramble to pick up your phone just as it dings and his message comes through.

Damn that was fast.

Me: I’d love to meet up with you. Y/f/n and I are headed to dinner. Want to join ?

Jensen: was starting to think you weren’t going to respond. Of course I will. Bringing Misha so we can maybe sneak off and talk, that okay?

Me: Sure. See you there.

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"Stop being so nervous y/n" your best friend takes your hand from across the table and gives it a reassuring squeeze, "he's just a guy."

Scoffing, "yeah just a guy who you told my whole life story to."

You weren't nervouse about meeting Jensen in person, she was right he is just a guy in the end, no it was the fact that he knew damn near everything about your divorce and struggles.

You're proud of the woman you had become through all the struggle and pain. You are always painfully aware, thanks to your judgement family, how insane you come across for living the life you do.

Now you celebrity crush has all the details.

Yeah nothing scary about that shit.

You're lost in the depths of your mind when you feel a large hand land on your shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. Looking up you come face to face with green eyes that seem to be dancing with excitement for where the evening might lead.

A voice as smooth as the two fingers of whiskey in your glass hits your ears when he speaks to you, "mind if we join you two pretty ladies."

You can't help it, you laugh, "oh very smooth cowboy."

"I do what I can darling."

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Misha proved to be a great distract for your friend. He has had her laughing and talking all night long. Meaning you have Jensens undivided attention.

Here you are living the fangirl dream and you honestly have no idea what to do with yourself.

Leaning in Jensen softly speaks into your ear, "would you want to take a walk with me?"

Your breath hitches, he seems to be holding his as he waits for your answer, all you can do is nod your head in response. Telling the other two you are leaving together, he's large warm hand is resting on the small of your back as he guides you to the front doors and into the warm night air.

You follow his lead walking down the street in silence for a few moments. Stolen glances back and forth before he breaks the silence asking, "what happened in your divorce? Your friend in there had made it sound like it was messy."

Taking in a deep breath, steeling your nerves, "not messy per say. Right fucked up would be more accurate."

"Mhm..."

"I was married for 12 years. Have 2 kids together and a farm. We weren't without our share of fights and disagreements, what couple isn't, but all in all I was happy and in love. He apparently didn't feel the same. Instead of telling me, he got my best friend of 18 years pregnant and left me after working away for a couple weeks and moved in with her."

Jensen stops walking. Turning towards you shock paints his features that are dancing in the moonlight. His mouth open and closes a few times but no words come out.

Chuckling you contiue, "don't worry, in the long run it was honestly the best thing that could have happened."

"How the fuck is that the best thing that could have happened?"

"If he was willing to do that to the woman he married, then I know she doesn't stand a chance in hell when they time is up for one, but also when you're in the middle of it you don't see what everyone else does. I was caught up in the romance and loves spell, stopped seeing him for who he was at the core. Don't get me wrong he's a good dad, and has become a good friend, but as a husband he sucks. I'm doing better on my own then I was when we were together."

You've continued walking along as you fill in all the details, "if i'm being honest Jensen, what he did has hugely impacted who I am today. As fucked up as it sounds, I'm happy he did what he did, I got rid of the toxic people I never realized I had in my life and I also get a front row seat to watching karma kick both their asses."

His laugh is deep and rich while it floats into the night air.

"That's a good way to look at it sweetheart. So why did your friend let on that it's messy?"

"For the sake of our kids we agreed to be civil and friendly from the very beginning. For the most part it worked, and we are now at a good place as friends. We text almost daily and still have that bond we have always had. But in the beginning it was hard, I would get mad or he would. I called her every name under the sun and in return he would get in my face and scream them right back at me. Let's face it no matter how hard you try, in a situaton like ours you are bond to still have hiccups along the way."

"That's true. Not a whole lot of women who would be as kind as you have obviously been to their ex."

"I don't see the point in fighting, that helps no one, I hate drama anyways, and my kids deserve better."

He stops again. This time he turns his body towards me as he begins to back me towards the brick wall behind me. Heat spreads across my body when I feel his hands holding my hips. He's so close I have to lean my head agaisnt the wall to look into his forest green eyes that have darken.

"You're a good mom y/n."

That's all the warning I get before he's kissing my lips in a slow, passionate kiss. My y/e/c eyes go wide before I close them and melt into his touch. He breaks the kiss first, leaning his forhead against mine, the taste of mint and Jensen lingering on my kiss bruised lips as our breath combines in the small space between us.

"We should head back, those two are probaly wondering where we are." You managed to get out as you stare into the depths of Jensen's eyes.

A smile creeps onto his face, "you're preobably right." With one last lingering peck on my lips we head back in the direction of the restraunt with my hand in his.

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Taglist:

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @spnaquakindgdom @yvonneeeee @jayhalsteadfan-2417 @deansimpalababy @syrma-sensei @nancymcl

[vavafaure1994]

It All Started At A Con

Jensen Ackles x Reader

Summary: When your best friend surprised you with tickets to a Supernatural convention, you never dreamed this is how it would go.

Warnings: none yet

—————————————————————————

Divorce sucks ass. Never in a million years did you expect your husband, well ex husband, to do what he did. Safe to say you never truly know anyone.

For the first time in 10 years you’re single and you plan on taking full advantage.

—————————————————————————

“Come on y/n, we’re going to be late.” Your best friend yells from her bed in your shared hotel room.

“Yeah I’m coming women.” You walk out of the bathroom in denim cut offs, cowboy boots, and a simple black tank top with a black and white flannel hanging off your shoulder. Your y/h/c has been lightly curled with a black cowboy hat perched on top of your head.

Going to the supernatural convention in Texas was an early birthday gift from your best friend. She believes you needed a vacation from all the drama at home, she isn’t wrong. You love this show and the actors. Without even knowing it they made your life better at the worse possible moment. If you weren’t sure you’d make an ass of yourself, you’d get up and tell them that too.

But that’s not happening…

Your eyes are glued to Jensen the entire time. The man gets better with each year the passes. You’ve never met someone like him. Truth is you haven’t even met him. You’re so wrapped up in the man’s orbit you don’t even notice that y/f/n has left your side and is now at the microphone speaking to Jensen and Misha.

You listen to her explain why she is thankful to them and their show. How she tells Jensen my story and the impact he’s had on my life whether it was through characters or his music. When she finishes her big long speech, you wait on baited breathe to hear his response.

“Is she here with you?” That southern drawl comes through the speaker system.

“Yes” that’s when your best friend points in your direction and all eyes are on you. Great, this was what I was avoiding. Deep green emeralds land on your face, you can tell a few tears have slipped past those beautiful eyes as he stares into your soul.

You wait for him to say anything, something at all to you. What you weren’t expecting was for him to put his microphone down and come striding over to where you are sitting. Encouraging you to come meet him in the middle aisle, your legs move automatically towards the man of your dreams. When you reach him, he instantly wraps his arms around you bringing you as close as humanly possible.

You’ve died and gone to heaven.

No microphone, every eye on you, Jensen leans down so only you can hear him, “you’re incredible darling, not a lot of people can do what you did and the strength that took is impressive beyond words.”

A shaky “Thank you” leaves your mouth as you stand there with this giant Texan holding you close. That’s when you felt your phone leaving your back pocket. Looking up, Jensen has a devilish grin plastered on his handsome face. Gets you to unlock it, opens the camera app and takes a selfie of the two of you. That’s where you thought it would stop. The cowboy proved you wrong though and went into your messages and started fiddling around before locking your phone again and handing it to you.

“I have to get back up there, but I hope you take me up on my offer.” Kissing your cheek goodbye, he lets you go to join Misha on stage again.

What the hell just happened. You tune out everyone and everything as you take your seat again and open the messaging app on your phone. Making sure no one can see as you open a recent message to an unknown number.

You don’t notice that Jensen is watching you as you read his message. Or that he sees the beautiful smile that reaches your eyes making him smile for no reason. All you can do is read what he wrote and stare at the amazing photo he sent himself.

Hey baby girl. I am honoured to be an inspiration to a woman as beautiful as you. I hope this isn’t too forward but I would love to hear more about you and your life. If you’re willing I’d love to get you alone for some one on one time :) text me back so we can talk please baby girl.

Yup, you’ve died and gone to heaven.

—————————————————————————

Part Two

[vavafaure1994]

First Con

Sequel to Birthday Boy

Written for @deansgirl79

Jensen Ackles x reader

Summary: Six months have come and gone for Jensen and y/n. While keeping it casual due to living in different places, they have managed to keep in touch and see one another often. Dallas Con is here and y/n has a couple surprises up her sleeve for Jensen.

Warning: Fluff, Unprotected sex, P in V, Anal play, Oral (m receiving), Fingering, Squirting, Edging

Authors note: I love Jensen and his family. I mean them no disrespect. This is set in set in a world where Jensen is single. This is a work of fiction for nothing more than entertainment.

Masterlist | Patreon

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Jensen's sitting in the green room at Dallas Con. It's been 6 months of having y/n in his life and it's been great. He's feeling as if he's a teenage boy again, his cellphone always attached to him these days. Jared and Misha never miss an opportunity to tease him about it either.

He's in a room with all his friends, but to Jesen his sitting on y/n couch, cuddling and talking for hours. It never seems to matter, they always have something to talking about.

Rob walks in with the band, "hey Jay, you guys ready? Kim and Brianna are wrapping up."

Jared comes over and wraps his arm around my shoulder, "I am, I just dont know if this old guy can pull his head out of his phone long enough." I glare up at the giant with the best bitch face I can muster.

"Shut the fuck up."

Rob and Jared leave me as they laugh at my 'lover boy' ways, as Misha calls me.

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Conventions in my home town are always the best. My parents are here laughing in the front row. Jared's parents beside them. I love watch them hanging out and enjoying themselves. We are about half way through our panel, the fans have been on point with their questions.

I'm not paying attention to Jared talking as he welcomes the next fan. My mind a million miles away. Which means I don't notice his shit eating gracing his face.

An angels voice pulls me out of my wandering thoughts. I whip my head around finding my beautiful y/n standing at the microphone with a knowing smile curving her kissable lips.

Damn I want, no need, those lips on me.

My cheeks heat as my jeans tighten at my wayward thoughts.

"Hi, I'm y/n."

"Hi, I'm Jared. This is Jensen." Jared points his thumb at me. "Sorry, Jensen is slightly distracted today."

"Oh, I can only imagine. " a sexy wink gets set my way from the y/h/c bombshell rendering me completely speechless.

Jared and y/n share a laugh at my expense. They have gotten to be good friends in these last 6 months. After they calm down from the giggles my shock and surprise envoked she asks her question.

"I was wondering if Jensen did anything interesting or fun for his birthday?" Her face glows with a mischievous sparkle and framed by her gorgeous y/h/c hair.

She's drop dead gorgeous. How the hell was I lucky enough to attract such a beautiful soul.

Heat floods my cheeks as the crowd goes wild. Smiling I look around before the crowd quieted down. My parents are beaming in the front row as they too recognize y/n's voice over the sound system.

We never talked about publicly announcing our relationship. In fact we haven't even labeled what we are to each other or where our relationship stands. There is half a chance I'm about have this either blow up in my face or it will lead to much more.

Here goes nothing.

"Well actually I had one of the most amazing birthdays this year, thanks for asking y/n"

In unison Jared and the fans scream, "what happened!?!"

Nervous laughter bubbles out of my throat as I discreetly glance to see what y/n is doing. To my shock she's waiting for my answer along with everyone else.

"You see what you did woman?" She doubles over in laughter. "Get that cute butt up here, they know now."

She makes her way on stage and into my waiting arms. Nestled between my legs I announce to thousands of people what this beauty has become to me.

"I met this wonderful woman out of pure luck on my birthday. For six months she has been showing me juat how incredible a relationship can be." She's staring at me with the most loving look I've ever witnessed. When out of nowhere she speaks into her microphone.

"Trust me ya'll, loving this man is the easiest thing I've done."

Love. She just said she loved me. Adoration makes a home through my body as I stare down at y/n. Love. She loves me.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Having sex with someone you love is by far a thousand times better than just normal sex. I can never go back now. Emotions are stronger. The passion is indescribable. And the orgasms. Or the fucking orgasms... the are earth shattering.

The moment our autographs were complete I made a bee line for the elevator. My woman was waiting for me. Ever since her declaration of love on stage this afternoon I haven't been able to focus on anything but what she will feel like withering beneath me.

I was not disappointed. I showed up to find her laying in the middle of our bed, cherry red lace bra, panties, and matching garter belt. I approached her as a predator would his prey, she's mine and I was about to show her just how mine she truly was.

Two hours later and I've had her cumming all over my tongue, fingers, and coating my thighs. My cock is angry I'm making him wait to feel her velvet walls. The throbbing is almost unbearable at this point but I can't help it, I love making her cum.

"Jensen, baby I need you." Hearing her beg is music to my ears.

Lazily playing with her sweet, swollen center. Every once in a while dipping lower to play with her tight channel, "do you want me to stretch these soft walls darling?"

"God, yes."

"Need to feel me warm your insides with my thobbing member." She squirts a small amount on my fingers again, "want me to take away your pain and make you feel good?"

She doesn't answer, too fucked out to answer and I haven't even started to fuck her yet. I slid in-between her wet thighs. She's so wet I slip in her with ease.

And God she feels amazing. Soft, warm, and wet... so fucking wet.

Fast and hard. I snap my hips straight into her g spot. Teasing her also teased me. I'm so worked up it's not going to take me long to get us over the edge together.

One, two, three more thrusts and she's clamping down like a vice. Milking me for everything I have to give. I swell inside her before my hot release coats her inner walls.

I collapse on top of her sweat covered body. Breath labored. Head dizzy with lust. Heart full of love, I ease myself out of her well used pussy.

Coming down from my orgams high I can't stop thinking about y/n and the fact that she loves me. I went from giving up on the love scene, and was okay with the fact maybe no one out there was for me, to swimming I moments I never knew I need.

Whether it was a good morning text in the morning, random photos of her day, or a sexy dirty text mid day to tease me. I love them all. All it took was six months and this beautiful, incredible woman has became my best friend.

I love my best friend.

I stare at the sex drunk angel in my arms, proud it's me who can put that look on her face. That I'm the one who pulls all the moans and whimpers from her body.

Whimpering in her hair, "I love you too sweetheart. " I think she's sleeping before I begin to think out loud, "god, I'm going to marry you one day."

She stirs, eyes closed but her face is angled towards mine, she slowly flutters her lashes before saying, "good, but I think maybe we should move in together first." Her voice is barely above a whisper, "it's why I came. To annouce to the world how you make me feel. To tell you I'm all in. No more casual bullshit. Jensen Ross Ackles, you're all fucking mine."

With the statement hanging heavy between us, she makes her way down my body a kiss and nibble at a time. When she reaches my semi hard dick, without hesitation my angel turns into a sex demon and swallows me whole. My hips jerk, I'm a moaning mess at the feelings her lips and tongue are making my sensitive cock feel.

She's not wrong. I'm all fucking hers. And there's no where else I'd rather be.

[vavafaure1994]

A New Adventure: Part 5.

The cries of a newborn filled the quiet nursery as you gently rocked the tiny bundle in your arms. The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. In your arms was your son—a tiny boy with a shock of dark hair and a determined little pout, already so much like his father.

Sherlock stood nearby, his tall frame leaning against the doorway. Though he remained characteristically composed, his eyes betrayed the depth of emotion he felt as he watched you with the baby. He stepped closer, his footsteps soft, and reached out to brush a finger across his son's tiny hand.

"What are we calling him?" Sherlock asked, his voice low and reverent.

"William Benedict Holmes," you replied, your gaze lifting to meet his. "William for strength, and Benedict... for blessings."

Sherlock nodded, his lips curving into the faintest smile. "A fine name. He'll live up to it, I'm sure."

Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall, followed by the unmistakable voice of Margaret.

"Is he here? Is my brother here?" she called, her voice tinged with excitement.

Sherlock stepped to the side just in time for Margaret to come bursting into the room. She skidded to a halt when she saw the baby in your arms, her wide eyes filling with wonder.

You knelt slightly to her level, beckoning her closer. "Come meet your brother, Margaret."

Margaret approached cautiously, her usual boundless energy tempered by curiosity and awe. She peered down at the baby, her small hands clasped tightly in front of her. "He's so tiny," she whispered.

"Not for long," Sherlock remarked dryly, crossing his arms. "He'll grow quickly. Likely into a little terror, if he takes after you."

Margaret shot her father a mock glare, then turned her attention back to her brother. She reached out hesitantly, her fingers brushing the baby's soft cheek.

"Hello, William," she said softly. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she added, "I'm your big sister. Don't worry, I'll teach you everything."

Sherlock groaned, though there was no hiding the fondness in his expression. "And so it begins."

You laughed, adjusting the baby in your arms. "If William is half as clever and mischievous as Margaret, we'll have our hands full."

Margaret beamed, clearly taking it as a compliment. "He'll be brilliant, just like me!"

Sherlock crouched beside her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "He'll have to be, with you as his guide."

The three of you spent the next hour marveling at the newest addition to your family. Margaret stayed close, her excitement palpable as she peppered you with questions about her brother—how long it would take for him to walk, whether he'd like puzzles as much as she did, and how soon she could start teaching him how to sneak biscuits from the kitchen.

Later that evening, after both children were settled for the night, you and Sherlock sat together in the parlor. The fire crackled softly, its warmth filling the room. You leaned against Sherlock, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped protectively around you.

"I never thought I'd be the father of two children," Sherlock admitted, his voice unusually soft. "Much less feel... complete because of them."

You smiled, tilting your head to look up at him. "They've changed us, haven't they?"

"They have," Sherlock said, his gaze distant for a moment as though reflecting on all the ways his life had shifted. Then he looked down at you, his expression tender. "And I wouldn't change a single thing."

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. "Neither would I. They're everything I've ever wanted—and more."

The house was quiet, save for the occasional murmur from William's nursery or a soft laugh from Margaret's room as she likely stayed up late with a book. In that moment, you and Sherlock knew your family was perfect, just as it was.

But you also knew that, with two brilliant little Holmeses under one roof, the adventures were only just beginning.

[vavafaure1994]

A New Adventure: Part 4.

The train rumbled steadily through the countryside, the rolling hills and golden fields of England passing by in a blur. You sat with Margaret nestled in your lap, her dark curls tousled from a nap. Sherlock sat across from you, his long legs crossed, a faint smile on his lips as he watched the little one tugging at your scarf.

"You're certain this was a good idea?" Sherlock asked for the third time since the journey began.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "You're nervous."

Sherlock tilted his head, feigning nonchalance. "Merely cautious. It's been some time since we last saw Mother. And she can be... direct."

"You mean sharp," you teased. "Don't worry. Margaret has a way of charming even the iciest of hearts. Just ask Mycroft."

Sherlock couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him, and he leaned back in his seat.

The train pulled into the small station with a loud whistle, and soon you were stepping onto the platform, Margaret clutching your finger tightly as she toddled beside you. The crisp air was filled with the scent of autumn leaves, and the familiar outline of Ferndell Hall came into view beyond the trees.

Eudoria Holmes was waiting at the gates, her sharp eyes scanning the path until they landed on you. A smile broke across her face, and she strode forward with purpose.

"Sherlock. (Y/N)." Her voice was warm but commanding, as ever. Her gaze softened when it fell on Margaret. "And this must be my granddaughter."

Margaret peeked out from behind your leg, her big eyes wide with curiosity. Eudoria crouched down, her smile growing even brighter.

"Hello, little one," she said gently, extending a hand. "I've heard so much about you."

Margaret hesitated for a moment, then took a cautious step forward, placing her tiny hand in Eudoria's.

"She's fearless," Eudoria said, her eyes flicking up to you and Sherlock. "Just as she should be."

"She gets it from her father," you replied with a grin.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow but didn't argue.

As Eudoria scooped Margaret up into her arms, a new figure appeared at the edge of the garden—Edith, her presence as commanding as ever. She approached with a smile, her sharp eyes taking in the sight of Margaret clinging to Eudoria's shoulder.

"Is this the infamous Margaret?" Edith asked, her tone teasing as she stopped beside you.

"The one and only," you replied proudly.

Edith crouched slightly to get a closer look, her gaze assessing but kind. "I see a great deal of trouble in those eyes."

"She's a Holmes," Eudoria said with a laugh. "It's inevitable."

Margaret, unfazed by the attention, reached out to Edith with a babble of curiosity. Edith raised an eyebrow, then extended her hand for the child to grab.

"Strong grip," Edith noted. "She'll make an excellent fighter one day."

You laughed, though Sherlock sighed. "Must everyone insist on turning her into a troublemaker?"

"She'll need to be prepared," Eudoria said firmly. "The world doesn't make things easy for women who think for themselves. But we'll teach her to stand tall."

As the group made their way into the house, Margaret's giggles echoed through the hall, her tiny hands reaching for the colorful trinkets on the walls. Eudoria walked beside you, her expression softer than you'd ever seen.

"She's a remarkable child," Eudoria said quietly.

"She's a miracle," you replied, brushing a hand over Margaret's curls.

Eudoria nodded, her eyes shining. "She's the future. And I'll do everything in my power to ensure it's a bright one."

Edith smirked from the doorway. "Then we'd better get started. Margaret's got a lot to learn—and so do her parents."

Sherlock groaned, but you only laughed, knowing that between Eudoria, Edith, and the rest of the Holmes family, Margaret's life would be full of love, knowledge, and plenty of adventure.

[vavafaure1994]

A New Adventure: Part 3.

The Holmes estate was unusually serene that morning. Winter sunlight poured through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the parlor. Margaret, now a lively one-year-old with a head of soft, dark curls, was perched on a thick blanket spread across the floor. She babbled to herself, occasionally tossing one of her wooden blocks aside with dramatic flair.

You sat nearby with a book in hand, though your attention was more on your daughter than the words on the page. Sherlock, ever the doting father when no one else was looking, lounged in the armchair, pretending to read the paper. His sharp eyes, however, flicked to Margaret every time she made a noise.

The moment of peace didn't last long.

The door swung open to reveal Mycroft, impeccably dressed as always, his polished shoes clicking on the floor. He looked at the room's domestic scene with the usual mix of disdain and discomfort.

"I see nothing has changed here," Mycroft announced. "Still a picture of chaos, as always."

You rolled your eyes, but Sherlock merely smirked. "Good morning to you too, brother."

Mycroft stepped further into the room, his hands clasped behind his back. His gaze fell on Margaret, who was now chewing on a block. "I presume the child is still wreaking havoc?"

"Her name is Margaret, Mycroft," you reminded him gently, closing your book. "And she's been an absolute delight this morning, thank you very much."

"Margaret," Mycroft repeated, as though the name alone might offend his sensibilities. He sniffed and added, "At least she's not climbing the furniture—yet."

As if on cue, Margaret dropped the block she was holding and turned her attention to Mycroft. Her big, curious eyes fixed on him, and for a moment, the room was completely still.

And then, to everyone's surprise, Margaret pushed herself up onto her wobbly little legs.

You gasped softly, your hand flying to Sherlock's arm. "Sherlock, look!"

Sherlock sat up, his newspaper forgotten, as Margaret stood there unsteadily. Her chubby fingers reached out for balance, but she didn't fall. Instead, she took a small, hesitant step forward.

"Remarkable," Sherlock murmured, a rare note of awe in his voice.

Margaret's second step was more confident, and before long, she was toddling across the room—her destination clear.

Mycroft.

The older Holmes brother froze, his eyes widening in shock as Margaret made her way toward him. For a moment, he looked as though he might back away, but then he hesitated, unsure.

"Is she—" Mycroft began, but he couldn't seem to finish the sentence.

Margaret reached him, her little face breaking into a triumphant grin. She grabbed onto the fabric of his trousers for balance, looking up at him with adoration in her bright eyes.

Mycroft stared down at her, his usually stern expression faltering. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lowered himself to her level.

"Well," he said quietly, his voice strangely soft, "aren't you full of surprises?"

Margaret giggled, reaching out to pat his face with her tiny hands. The ice that seemed to perpetually surround Mycroft Holmes cracked, and a rare, genuine smile crossed his face.

Sherlock leaned back in his chair, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "It seems Margaret has accomplished what none of us could—melting Mycroft's heart."

"Indeed," you whispered, watching the scene with a mix of amusement and warmth.

Mycroft, for his part, ignored his brother's teasing. He reached out with surprising gentleness, scooping Margaret into his arms. She squealed with delight, tugging at his perfectly knotted cravat.

"You're a troublesome little thing," Mycroft murmured, though there was no malice in his tone. "Just like your parents."

Margaret babbled in response, as if in agreement.

And for the first time in years, the Holmes family saw a softer side of Mycroft—one that, perhaps, only Margaret could bring out.

[vavafaure1994]

A New Adventure: Part 2.

The cries of a newborn echoed through the quiet house. For a moment, all of London seemed to fall away, leaving only the small bundle in your arms, her face scrunched up in the indignity of her first moments outside the womb.

"She's perfect," Sherlock whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he leaned over you, his sharp features softened by an expression of wonder. His hand, steady even in the most perilous of situations, trembled slightly as he reached out to stroke her tiny cheek.

"She is," you agreed, tears welling in your eyes as you looked down at your daughter. Her small fingers opened and closed, and you were struck by how fragile, yet powerful, she seemed.

The room was warm, the fire burning low in the hearth. Enola was the first to burst through the door, her face alight with excitement. "Is it true? Is she here?"

"Enola, keep your voice down," Sherlock said, though there was no real reprimand in his tone.

But Enola paid no mind, bounding to your bedside with wide, curious eyes. "A girl!" she exclaimed, leaning closer to see the baby. "Oh, she's beautiful."

You smiled, watching as Enola gently touched the baby's hand, her usual mischievous energy tempered by awe. "She's got your spirit already, I think."

"Good. Someone has to balance out all the seriousness in this family," Enola quipped, casting a playful glance at Sherlock, who only rolled his eyes.

Moments later, the door creaked open again, this time revealing Mycroft. He stepped in hesitantly, his gaze darting between the baby and the rest of the room.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat, "I suppose congratulations are in order."

Sherlock's lips quirked into a wry smile. "How gracious of you, Mycroft."

Ignoring his brother's sarcasm, Mycroft turned his attention to you. "And what have you decided to name her?"

You exchanged a glance with Sherlock before answering. "Margaret Violet Holmes."

"Margaret," Mycroft repeated, a rare softness entering his tone. "A strong, respectable name." He hesitated, then added, "Though I imagine you'll let her run wild like a little heathen, won't you?"

Enola snorted. "Oh, do lighten up, Mycroft. Margaret's going to be brilliant."

"And headstrong," you added with a grin.

"And stubborn," Sherlock said, his voice laced with amusement.

"Just like the rest of us," Enola finished, earning a groan from Mycroft.

Margaret stirred in your arms, her tiny face relaxing into something that almost resembled a smile. Sherlock reached out again, brushing a finger across her brow.

"I dare say, she'll be the greatest Holmes of us all," he murmured.

For once, neither Mycroft nor Enola had anything to add. The room fell into a peaceful silence, broken only by the soft crackling of the fire and Margaret's steady breathing.

In that moment, you knew that your daughter was destined for an extraordinary life. Whether she chose to be ladylike or rebellious, logical or creative, Margaret Violet Holmes would carve her own path—and her family would be with her every step of the way.

[vavafaure1994]

A New Adventure- Sherlock Holmes.

The faint hum of a violin filled the air, intertwining with the crackling of the fire in the hearth. You sat on the plush armchair in the corner of the drawing room, one hand cradling your growing belly while the other idly turned the pages of a book. The little one inside you seemed to enjoy the music, occasionally giving a small kick in rhythm with Sherlock's playing.

Sherlock, ever the enigma, stood by the window, his silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the streetlamps. His piercing blue eyes flickered over to you every so often, as though checking that you were still there, safe and sound. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips each time he caught sight of you.

It was peaceful. Or at least it had been, until Mycroft Holmes arrived.

"Honestly, Sherlock, I don't know how you manage to tolerate this circus," Mycroft declared as he entered the room uninvited, his voice brimming with disdain. He gestured dramatically to the book in your hands and then to the knitting needles and yarn on the table beside you. "Your wife is indulging in domestic trivialities while your sister gallivants across London with little regard for propriety."

You sighed, setting the book down on your lap. "Good evening to you too, Mycroft."

Sherlock didn't even pause his playing, though you caught the slight arch of his brow. "I wasn't aware my household was under your jurisdiction."

"It's not," Mycroft huffed, crossing the room with heavy steps. He leaned against the mantle, peering down at you with a critical eye. "But one can't help but notice how peculiar everything here is. Enola's rebellious tendencies are already scandalous enough. Now, I shudder to think what will become of your child if left under such... unorthodox influences."

You felt your cheeks flush with frustration but kept your tone level. "Thank you for your concern, Mycroft. But I assure you, Sherlock and I are quite capable of raising our child."

"I certainly hope it's a girl," Mycroft quipped, straightening his waistcoat with a smug expression. "Perhaps you'll finally understand the importance of teaching proper decorum. A young lady must be ladylike, after all."

At that, Sherlock's violin let out a sharp, dissonant note. He lowered the instrument, turning to face his brother with a glint of irritation in his eyes. "And what, pray tell, makes you think we would conform to your antiquated ideals?"

Mycroft shrugged. "It's for her own good. Without structure, she'll end up like Enola—a wild, headstrong thing with no respect for societal norms."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up at his words. "Enola is brilliant, Mycroft. Just like her brothers. If our child inherits even half of that, I'll be immensely proud."

Sherlock moved to your side, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. "Precisely. And should we have a daughter, she'll grow up to be whoever she wishes to be—ladylike or otherwise. That choice will be hers."

Mycroft opened his mouth to retort but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he sniffed and muttered something about tea before retreating to the kitchen.

Once he was gone, you leaned back into Sherlock, letting his warmth soothe your irritation. "I do hope it's a girl," you murmured, a smile playing on your lips. "She'll give him an absolute headache."

Sherlock chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Then we're in agreement. Let's hope for a girl."

You both sat in comfortable silence, imagining the future ahead—one filled with love, adventure, and a touch of mischief.

[vavafaure1994]

can you write something with tobias eaton ?? preferably heavy making out and fluff. i think both of you being instructors/trainers . you can do anything you want

His Girl

A/N: yes ofc! The idea of this fanfic is that Tris never chose Dauntless and captured Four’s attention, you did🤭 I hope you enjoy it!

Sidenote: I LOVE getting requests from you guys, they’re so fun to write, so thank you:) There is also another Author's Note at the end of the fic!

Summary: After a first brutal year in Dauntless, Four managed to get you an instructors position alongside him. However, you can't help but wonder if the soft glances and brushing of hands is strictly professional or if it's something else...

Sometimes when you opened your eyes, you still expected to be in the dorms with the other new initiates. It had been months since you'd gotten your own little studio but it didn't always feel real. You liked having a space all to yourself, for your things, and without having to share. If that made you selfish, you didn't care.

You rubbed your eyes groggily, staring out of the one tiny window your flat had. "Another gray day," you mumbled, pulling yourself out of your bed. To call it a bed was an overstatement but you were forever grateful for that spare mattress Christina didn't want.

The sound of voices grew as you walked down the narrow corridor that led to The Hub. You could distinguish a few: some were other instructors and some came from your own initiates. You liked your bunch, especially since they were the first you were training. As for the rest of the instructors, the majority were fairly nice, some more than others. But only one stood out. Four.

Your feelings towards Four were unclear. On the one hand, he had trained you well, even landed you a job beside him. But your feelings towards him weren't solely professional. No, there were moments in your lonely nights that you imagined him taking you into his strong arms, his lips against yours, protecting you from a danger you both knew didn't exist. You knew that dating instructors wasn't off limits but it couldn't possibly be permissible, socially at least. The rest of trainers usually kept to themselves, indulging in the occasional hookup or fling but it was never anything more serious. Hooking up with Four sounded spectacular but it also didn't feel genuine.

You found your fellow instructors in the middle of the hub, going over that day's training no doubt. Four's back was facing you, as he spoke with Eric, turning his face slightly as he did. You knew he'd seen you out of the corner of his eye when he spun around halfway to meet your gaze.

"Y/N," he nodded at you, his eyes fleeting over your face quickly.

"Four," you responded, standing a few inches away from him.

"Ready for today?" he mused.

"Like always," you said, rolling your eyes and punching him lightly in the arm.

"Getting stronger, Y/N," he said, a small smirk pulling at his lips, "Careful or I'll have to hit back."

You gawked at him in a mock shock, your eyes widening. "You wouldn't dare."

Four shrugged, "You're not my student anymore. There are no rules that say instructors can't fight."

"Oh yeah?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow at him, "See me after class." You took off towards the training room, not bothering to hear his response. Though you knew you had caused an impression.

Your classes that day went by quickly, the minutes ticked closer to your break, closer to seeing Four again. You were thankful to have passed initiation but there was a tiny part of you that missed spending greater part of your days with Four, even if it was through the means of enduring physical hardships and fist fights with others. That's usually how trainings went anyway.

As the final initiates thinned out of the crowd they'd formed around you, the silhouette of one caught your eye as you bent down to pick up the scattered equipment left behind. It didn't take you long to realize it wasn't one of your students, as none of them were nearly that tall, that strong. Or that silent for that matter.

"Right on time," you said coolly, not bothering to glance over at Four as you retrieved knife after knife from the floor.

"I take all of my altercations very seriously," he replied, his voice sounded even deeper in the empty training room.

"Ah," you smiled, spinning around to find him staring down at you, his arms crossed. "Is this what this is?"

"I'll remind you that you're the one who told me to see you after class," he smirked, rolling his eyes, "I've done my homework, haven't I?"

"Very punctual," you answered, tilting your head up slightly to meet his gaze. Four chuckled lightly in response.

"I hate to burst your bubble, though," he said, shaking his head slightly, "I don't have a huge appetite for kicking your ass tonight, Y/N."

"Never took you as a coward, Four!" you gasped, the sarcasm thick in your voice.

"There's nothing cowardly about not wanting to fight on a first date," he replied matter-of-factly. A thrill ran through your body at his words, a hint of blush lingering on your cheeks.

"Is this what this is?" you asked, the shock on your face this time was real but you hid it well.

"Only if that's what you want," he said slowly, taking in your bewildered state. Or maybe you hadn't been as discreet about your surprise as you'd thought.

"Of course," you blurted out, "I just wasn't sure if I was picking up on the right vibe, that's all."

"You're not very easy to read either, you know that?" he shook his head, his shoulder moving as he chuckled.

"Mhm," you huffed, tossing the last few knives back into their container, making sure to hide your suddenly flushed face.

Twenty minutes later, Four had dragged you to The Pit once again. Only now, the seemingly welcoming vibe had been replaced with a much tougher crowd. A quick scan around you gave you the answer. A competition. Most things in Dauntless seemed to be life or death but swinging across the Chasm on a ragged, old rope sounded like a solid death sentence.

"You brought me to swing to my death?" you asked Four sourly, careful as to not make your excitement noticeable in your voice.

Four's lips tugged into a smile. "Not you, obviously. We're here to watch."

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, turning towards him now, "You don't think I can do that?"

"Let's be honest, Y/N, out of the two of us, I'm the expert in ropes," he replied coolly.

"We'll see about that," you muttered, your feet taking off beneath you as you finished your sentence. You were determined to prove him wrong. Was it risky? Yes but how hard could swinging from a rope be?

You were sure Four's voice was calling out for you in the auditory blur that surrounded you but you didn't care. Pushing past the bystanders, you made your way to the edge of the Chasm. A dozen of big-looking Dauntless members stood waiting for the next opponents. That's when you realized there were two ropes, one for you and one for someone else.

"What're you waiting for?" a small, yet strong Dauntless man called out at you.

"We won't bite!" said another, "Sheela's been standing here for a while," he said, gesturing at a tall, brawny Dauntless woman that stood holding one of the ropes.

"Well, I'm sure I was worth the wait," you replied, your voice loud and even.

The Dauntless members laughed, a few looked at you with bewildered faces.

"Well, little lady, step right up," the man said, "You'll have to reach the rope though."

You walked right to the edge, suddenly aware of how far the rope was from you. You would have to lean over the edge quite a bit to grab it. The good news was that if you did, there would be something to hold onto. You didn't want to think about the bad news.

You reached out a shaking arm towards the rope, leaning your body forward as you did. Your fingertips brushed the coarse, prickly line, trying anxiously to pull it towards you. You knew you needed another inch of inclination. Taking a deep breath to steady you, you pushed your body even further.

Thankfully your calculations had been precise, as the rope was now in your tight grip and your body around it. Screams emerged from behind you as you fell forward, many thinking you had missed it altogether. But no, your legs had twisted around it and your hands were holding you close to it. The problem now? You were quite literally over the Chasm.

"Y/N!" Four's voice sounded louder over the rest of people cheering you on, though many still seemed doubtful about your fate. "Swing!" he yelled. And they call this man a genius.

"I got it," you called out, knowing very well he wouldn't see you rolling your eyes at him from this distance.

"She's got it!" the Dauntless men who had teased you earlier yelled back at him. Four's eyes shot daggers back at them but didn't say a word.

They were right of course, you did have this under control. You swung yourself back and forth, each swing bringing you closer to the stone ledge. You used the momentum of your last push to reach out one of your legs, pushing your foot down firmly on the pavemented edge as you pulled the rest of your body back to safety.

The crowd behind you hooted and cheered for your triumphant return. Four's face seemed slightly more relaxed at seeing you back on the floor. He even seemed to smile.

Sheela seemed to be the only one not celebrating. "Are we doing this or not?"

The shorter Dauntless man held up a hand to both of you before turning to the crowd that only seemed to be growing. "The rules are simple. Step one: grab the rope," he grinned at you for a split second, "Step two: swing across the Chasm to the other side. Step three: climb the eastern wall and retrieve the arrow. Step four: come back before your opponent does."

There was no turning back now. Another Dauntless woman held a pistol up in the air, ready to fire the shot that would send you and Sheela swinging towards a very probable death. The shot rang through the silent Chasm loud and clear, the sound bouncing off the walls around you.

In an instant you were running towards the edge, wrapping your body around the rope once more as you swung yourself over the black abyss. You made sure to give yourself a few swings here and there as you neared the other side. Worst case scenario would be to get trapped in the middle and have to rely solely on your inertia to reach solid ground again. Luckily, once again, everything had gone according to plan. A few minutes later, your feet were on the surface of the other side of the Chasm. Sheela hadn't been so fortunate.

"Nice, Y/N!" Four called out from the other side of the Chasm. He was now standing next to the other Dauntless men, near the edge where you had stood just moments before.

You let out a breathy laugh as you tied the rope around a rock. No one had said anything about that and this way, you'd have one less step to think about. The walk to the eastern wall was short but you made sure to focus on your feet. The accidental slip of a foot could send you down. The arrow was lodged about fifteen feet up, in a small crack. This side of the Chasm wasn't as smooth, thankfully. There would be many spots to place your feet on as you climbed it.

You jumped up, arms reaching for the first rock that seemed pushed out, grabbing onto it tightly as you surveyed the rest of the wall. The climb was exhausting, so much stretching and rearranging your feet but the impending doom below you motivated you enough to not stop. You could hear the others cheering for you across the opening as you continued scaling.

About ten feet up, your extremities began to tremble. It started slowly but ultimately ended up wracking your entire core. You suddenly became aware of every droplet of sweat that dripped down you. But you couldn't brush them away. The arrow was now just a foot away from you. It was so close but your body was so weary that it felt like miles afar.

"Come on, Y/N!" Four's voice interrupted your troubling thoughts "Climb!"

His voice brought back a spark inside of you, one that pushed your body to its edge as you reached up towards the next ledge. The arrow was lodged safely in the wall but pulling out was the simplest thing you'd done this night. You let out a sigh of relief as you held it in your hand, resting your feet on the ledge you'd just held.

"That's my girl!" Four shouted with pride, his hands cupped around his mouth. His words sent a shiver down your spine and a swarm of butterflies in your stomach.

You had half a mind to check on your opponent, who happened to be scaling halfway up the wall to your right. You couldn't get distracted now, you still had to climb back down. Placing the arrow in your mouth to free both hands, you began your descent to safety. The way down was much easier, since you had already learned where to step and where not to.

In a matter of minutes, you were back on the ground, running towards the rock you had tied your rope around. Sheela was just seconds away from reaching her arrow but you knew her climb down would be as quick as yours.

Wasting no time, you untied your knot and took a couple steps back to give your swing more momentum. This last step of the competition was the least of your worries. You swung yourself for the last time, your feet pushing off of the ground firmly.

Four waited for you on the other side, his arms ready to catch you as you came closer. You flew right into them, sending you both toppling to the floor. In a blur of seconds, the Dauntless group had pulled you up into their arms, throwing you up in the air as they celebrated your victory. You craned your neck back to catch a glimpse of Sheela, who was still on the other side of the Chasm.

A pair of strong arms caught you. Four smiled down at as he slipped you away from the crowd. It would be a matter of seconds before they realized you weren't among them.

"Had me worried for a second there, Y/N," he smirked as he walked.

"I had it under control," you replied, raising an eyebrow at him.

He laughed, his whole body shaking against you. "Believe me, this wasn't my idea of a first day."

"Well I'd say it was one of the best in the books," you smiled and you meant it.

"You're insane, Y/N," he said, shaking his head in bewilderment as you reached a quieter part of The Pit. Four set you on your feet gently.

"No, I'm your girl," you said softly, smiling up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Oh, without a doubt," he murmured, his lips just centimeters away from your own.

"What am I going to have to kiss you too?" you teased him, running your fingers through his hair.

"God, you're driving me crazy," he laughed breathlessly before bringing his lips to yours. You expected a gentle kiss but there was a force and urgency behind it that made your heart flutter. Four's lips were so warm and soft and his arms wrapped protectively around you sent you spiraling. You needed him in a way you'd never felt before. You pushed your body closer to his, pulling his hair as his hands made their way to the the small of your back. Four's tongue found yours, swirling against it. Your breaths mixed with his own, his toned chest rising and falling as you kissed him. His lips moved against yours ardently, pulling you impossibly closer to him, the warmth of his body consuming you. He was driving you crazy.

You pulled away quickly before you did anything stupid like ask him to spend the night. It took you both a few seconds to compose yourselves before Four spoke.

"So, next date?" he began, playing softly with your hair.

"Who says there's going to be a next date?" you challenged, fulling aware that you were being a pain in the ass tonight but Four seemed to love it.

"I'm going to have to fight you for that," he said seriously.

"Sounds like we have date number two," you giggled, before you pulled Four back in for another kiss.

------

A/N: I realize this isn't too fluffy so I apologize and will definitely write the second date if you'd like!!! (and with a spicier ending!)

[vavafaure1994]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - BACK TO YOU

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ jj maybank ⋆ ex!pogue!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which you return to the island after moving away and have to confront unresolved feelings and changes in the friend group.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, drama, mention of past self-harm, mention of past suicide attempt, mention of depression/mental health issues, alcohol abuse, unresolved emotional/romantic tension, trauma, mention of parental abuse/neglect, emotional cheating, jj is dating kiara, pretend luke didn’t leave, tw: surf competition, reconciliation, emotional vulnerability, unprotected vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex, dirty talk, praise, teasing, power play, and overstimulation (please dni if your sensitive to any of these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 19,166

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ this is long and very emotional/dramatic which is half of the reason it's been sitting in drafts forever. this was only written because I just love the song and wanted something based on it.

⋆.˚✮back to you✮˚.⋆

(༝༚༝༚ selena gomez)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──. Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

JJ stands awkwardly by the cooler, his fingers drumming against the metal surface as he watches you grab another case of beer. The setting sun casts long shadows across John B's backyard, painting everything in hues of orange and pink. The salty breeze carries the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore, mixing with the muffled laughter and music inside the house. He can't help but steal glances at you, memories of your past flooding his mind like an unwanted tide.

"So uh..." JJ clears his throat, adjusting his shark tooth necklace nervously. "How was... wherever the fuck you went?" He tries to maintain his usual carefree demeanor, but an edge to his voice betrays his discomfort. His blue eyes dart between you and the ground, unable to maintain steady eye contact. The weight of your unspoken history hangs heavy between you, thicker than the humid Carolina evening.

You stand awkwardly, your fingers nervously playing with the label of your beer bottle. You avoid JJ's gaze, focusing instead on the peeling paint of John B's deck railing. The tension between you two is suffocating, making the humid evening air feel even heavier. "Maine," you finally answer, your voice barely above a whisper. "We went to Maine."

JJ's jaw tightens at the mention of Maine, his fingers flexing around his beer bottle as he processes just how far away you’ve been. "Maine? Fuck, that's like... way up there with all those lobsters and shit," he says, trying to maintain his usual lighthearted tone but failing miserably. 

"You look..." He starts, then stops himself, shoving his free hand into the pocket of his board shorts. "I mean, it's good you're back and shit. The group missed you." He deliberately leaves out the fact that he missed you too, that your absence left a void that even Kiara couldn't quite fill. The tension between you is palpable, like the electricity in the air before a storm - something the Outer Banks knows all too well. He takes a long pull from his beer, using it as an excuse to break the uncomfortable silence that's settled between you.

You take a long sip from your bottle, using the moment to gather your thoughts. The sight of JJ - still as handsome as ever with his messy blonde hair and those blue eyes - makes your heartache in a way you thought you’d gotten over. The sound of Kiara's laughter from inside feels like a knife twisting in your gut. "I see you and Kie finally..." you trail off, unable to finish the sentence. Your skin glows in the porch light.

"Yeah, me and Kie..." he trails off, taking another long pull from his beer to avoid finishing the sentence. The truth is, things with Kiara are good - great even - but standing here with you brings back all the complicated feelings he'd tried to bury in the sand. 

"The group seems... good," you manage, trying to keep your voice steady. "Different, but good." You risk a glance at JJ, immediately regretting it when you catch his eyes. Those same eyes that used to look at you with such intensity, now belong to someone else. You shift your weight, your sundress rustling softly in the evening breeze. 

A loud crash from inside the house makes you both jump causing you to spill a bit of beer on your dress, followed by John B's distinctive "Everything's fine!" JJ lets out a forced laugh, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He's hyper-aware of every movement you make, every shift in your posture, every breath you take. The familiar scent of your perfume mixed with the salt air brings back memories he's tried so hard to suppress - stolen kisses behind the Wreck, late-night surfing sessions, promises made and broken. He adjusts his stance, trying to maintain a careful distance between you, even as every fiber of his being wants to close it.

"Shit," you mutter, dabbing at the spot with your free hand. You can feel JJ's presence just a few feet away, and it takes everything in you not to close that distance. "I should've called or something," you say suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "Before I left, I mean. I just... I couldn't." Your voice cracks slightly on the last word, betraying the emotions you're trying so hard to keep in check.

The raw honesty in your voice, when you mention not calling, makes his throat tight. "Yeah, well..." JJ runs a hand through his hair again, his shark tooth necklace catching the light as he moves. "Probably wouldn't have answered anyway. Was pretty fucked up back then." He lets out a laugh, but there's pain behind it. "Still am, just better at hiding it now." The admission hangs between you like smoke, heavy and suffocating. He can hear Sarah and John B singing off-key inside, the sound a stark contrast to the tension-filled bubble you're standing in.

He watches as you dab at the beer stain on your dress, fighting the urge to help you like he would have before. "Fuck, hold up," he mutters, pulling off his worn t-shirt and offering it to you without thinking. The porch light illuminates the scattered bruises across his torso - some new, some old ones you’d recognize.

You stand there, your heart racing as you stare at JJ's shirtless form. You reach out hesitant to take his shirt, your fingers brushing briefly in a way that sends electricity through your entire body. "Thanks," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"You look good though," he finally says, the words escaping before he can stop them. His eyes meet yours for a moment before quickly looking away. "I mean, like, healthy and shit. That's... that's good." He shifts uncomfortably, very aware that he's still shirtless and that the space between you feels both too large and not large enough. The familiar scent of your perfume is making his head spin, or maybe it's the beer, or maybe it's just you - it's always been you. "Did it help?" he asks quietly, genuinely wanting to know. "Going away? Did it... fix things?" The question carries more weight than he intends, loaded with all the things he never got to say before you left.

The sound of Kiara's laughter drifts out again, and you flinches visibly. You take another long drink from your beer, needing the liquid courage. "It helped," you finally answer his question, unconsciously running your fingers over the faded scars on your wrists. "The doctors, the therapy, the distance... It helped. But it didn't fix everything." You look up at him then, really look at him, taking in how the years have changed him. He's still JJ - still beautiful but there's something harder in his eyes now, something that wasn't there before.

You clutch his shirt in your hands, the familiar scent of him - salt air, coconut surf wax, and something distinctly JJ - making you dizzy with memories. "I..." you start, then swallow hard. "I wanted to call. Every single day, I picked up my phone and stared at your number until the screen went black."

"I missed you," You confess quietly, immediately regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. "I mean, I missed everyone," you quickly add, but you both know it's not the same thing. You can feel the weight of everything unsaid between you, three years' worth of words you never got to say. "You look happy," you say, trying to smile even though it feels like your heart is breaking all over again. "With Kie, I mean. You guys... you make sense together." The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you force it out anyway. Because what else can you say? That seeing them together feels like drowning? That every time you close your eyes, you still see him? That Maine might have helped you heal your mind, but it did nothing to heal your heart? 

A burst of laughter from inside makes him jump, reminding him where you are and who's waiting for him. "Happy?" he scoffs, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "Yeah, sure. I'm fucking peachy." His sarcasm is sharp enough to cut, a defense mechanism he's perfected over the years. He takes another long drink from his beer, finishing it in one go before setting it down with more force than necessary. "And don't do that shit about me and Kie making sense. You don't get to..." he stops himself again, running a hand over his face.

"Fuck, Y/N/N," JJ breathes out, using your old nickname without thinking. His fingers twitch at his sides, wanting to reach for you but knowing he can't. The sight of you touching your wrist scars makes his stomach turn - he remembers the day he found you, remembers the blood, remembers feeling more terrified than he'd ever been in his life.

"You can't just come back here and say shit like that," he says, his voice rough with emotion. He runs both hands through his hair in frustration, pacing a small circle on the deck. "You left, Y/N. You fucking left and I..." he trails off, the rest of the sentence dying in his throat. The memory of those first few weeks, after you disappeared, hits him like a physical blow - the drinking, the fights, the reckless behavior that even John B couldn't talk him down from.

"I didn't want to leave, JJ," You say, taking a step closer to him despite yourself. The electricity between you is almost tangible now. "You think I wanted to be shipped off to fucking Maine? To be locked up in some facility where they watched my every move? Where they made me talk about every fucking thing that was wrong with me?" Your voice rises slightly before you catch yourself, glancing nervously at the house. "I was drowning here, JJ. I was drowning and I couldn't..." 

"You know what? Fuck this," JJ says suddenly, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else - something that looks dangerously close to the way he used to look at you. "You want to know what happened after you left? I fucking lost it, Y/N. I was so fucked up I couldn't even..." he cuts himself off, aware he's saying too much. The space between you feels charged with electricity, like the air before a storm. 

"But hey, at least the doctors fixed you up real nice, right?" The words are meant to sting, but there's a tremor in his voice that betrays him. He's still that same boy who used to sneak into your room at night, who used to hold you when the darkness got too heavy, who promised he'd always be there - until you made it impossible to keep that promise." His eyes intense as they lock onto yours. "I used to check your social media every fucking day. Every. Day. Just to make sure you were still..." he trails off, unable to finish the sentence. 

Your hands tremble as you clutch his shirt tighter, his familiar scent making your head spin. "Lost it?" You repeat, your voice cracking. "You think you were the only one who lost it?" The words come out sharper than intended, years of buried pain rising to the surface. Your skin flushes with anger and hurt, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. The bitterness in his voice when he mentions the doctors makes you flinch. "Fixed me up real nice?" You repeat, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. "Is that what you think? That I'm all better now? That I just went away and came back brand new?" You move closer still, close enough to see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, close enough to smell the beer on his breath. "I still have nightmares. I still get days where I can barely get out of bed. The only difference is now I have better coping mechanisms than..." 

His confession about checking your social media makes your heart stutter in your chest. "I deactivated everything," you admit quietly, your voice thick with emotion. "Because every time I logged on, all I wanted to do was message you. Tell you I was sorry. Tell you I..." you stop yourself, very aware of how close you're standing now, of the fact that he's still shirtless, of Kiara just inside the house. "It doesn't matter now, does it?" You say, taking a step back, trying to create some distance between you even though every cell in your body screams to move closer. "You moved on. You're happy. That's... that's good." The lie tastes like poison on your tongue, but you force it out anyway, because what right do you have to come back here and disrupt his life? What right do you have to still want him this much?

JJ's body tenses as Pope's voice cuts through the charged atmosphere. "What’s taking so long with those beers? John B's about to start drinking mouthwash if we don't..." Pope trails off as he steps onto the deck, his eyes darting between JJ's shirtless form and you holding the said shirt. "Oh shit, my bad, I didn't..." he starts, but JJ cuts him off with a sharp laugh that sounds more like a bark.

"Nothing to be sorry for, Pope," JJ says, his voice carrying an edge that makes Pope raise his eyebrows. JJ snatches up the case of beer from the cooler, his movements jerky and aggressive. "Just catching up with our prodigal pogue here. Sharing war stories about her fancy fucking therapy in Maine." The words come out dripping with sarcasm, but there's a tremor in his hands as he grips the beer case. The porch light catches the tension in his jaw, the way his muscles are coiled tight like he's ready to either fight or flee.

"JJ," Pope says warningly, recognizing the signs of his friend spiraling. He's seen this before - usually right before JJ does something spectacularly stupid. "Maybe we should all just-" But JJ's already moving, shouldering past both of them towards the house. He pauses at the door, his back to you, his knuckles white around the beer case. "You know what the fucked up part is?" he says, not turning around. "I actually thought..." he stops, letting out a bitter laugh. "Doesn't matter what I thought. Welcome home, Y/N. Hope Maine was worth it."

Pope watches JJ disappear inside before turning to you with an apologetic look. "He was really messed up when you left," he says quietly, always the mediator. "Like, more than usual messed up. Started getting into fights with Topper almost daily, drinking more than his dad. Kiara was the only one who could calm him down sometimes." He runs a hand over his face, looking tired. "Look, I know it's not my place, but... maybe give him some time? He's better now, but seeing you again..." Pope glances at the door where you can hear JJ's forced laughter mixing with the others. "It's like reopening an old wound, you know?"

You stare at the door JJ just disappeared through, your heart feeling like it's being ripped apart all over again. His shirt is still clutched in your trembling hands, and you bring it unconsciously closer to your chest. You can feel tears threatening to spill over. "Time?" You repeat Pope's words with a hollow laugh. "Yeah, because three years wasn't enough time, right?" Your voice cracks on the last word, and you have to take a deep breath to steady yourself.

"In Maine, they made us write letters. Letters to everyone we hurt, everyone who hurt us. I wrote so many letters to JJ that they had to give me extra paper." You let out a shaky breath, running your fingers over the soft fabric of JJ's shirt. "Never sent a single one. How do you put three years of 'I'm sorry' and 'I miss you' and 'I still...' into words that don't sound completely fucking pathetic?"

The sound of breaking glass comes from inside, followed by Kiara's concerned "JJ?" Pope closes his eyes and sighs. "And there it is. I better..." he gestures towards the house. "You coming?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of everything that's just transpired.

The sound of Kiara's concerned voice calling for JJ makes your stomach twist painfully. "You should go check on him," you say to Pope, finally looking up. Your eyes are swimming with unshed tears, but you refuse to let them fall. "I'll... I'll be in in a minute. Just need to..." You gesture vaguely at yourself, trying to pull together the pieces of your composure that JJ's words had shattered. "And Pope?" You call as he turns to leave. "I know everyone probably hates me for leaving. Hell, I hate myself for it. But I didn't have a choice. It was either leave or..." 

You can hear more commotion from inside - JJ's voice raised, something else breaking, Kiara trying to calm him down. The sound makes your chest ache in a way that feels physical. "Fuck," you whisper to yourself, looking down at JJ's shirt still in your hands. You bring it to your face, inhaling his scent one last time before forcing yourself to fold it neatly. You’ll have to give it back eventually, but right now, you need a moment to remember how to breathe without feeling like you’re drowning all over again. The irony isn't lost on you - you left the Outer Banks to stop feeling like you were drowning, only to come back and find yourself deeper underwater than ever before.

The tension in living room is thick enough to cut with a knife as you enter. JJ is sprawled on the couch next to Kiara, his arm draped possessively around her shoulders while nursing what appears to be his fifth beer. There's broken glass by the kitchen counter that Sarah's carefully sweeping up, shooting concerned glances at everyone.

"So this competition tomorrow," John B says too loudly, clearly trying to diffuse the tension. "Heard Topper's entering too." He's sitting cross-legged on the floor, picking at the label of his beer bottle. "Gonna be some sick waves though, bro. Weather report's saying six-footers at least."

JJ snorts, his blue eyes deliberately avoiding your direction. "Yeah, well, Topper can suck my-" Kiara elbows him in the ribs, cutting him off. "What? I'm just saying the trust fund baby probably can't even tell the difference between the nose and tail of his board." His words are slightly slurred, with anger and alcohol making his voice thicker.

"Actually," Sarah pipes up from the kitchen, dumping the broken glass in the trash, "I heard he's been practicing a lot." She settles onto the arm of John B's chair, her blonde hair catching the dim light. "Something about wanting to prove himself or whatever."

Pope shifts slightly as you sit next to him, creating a protective barrier between you and JJ. "You still surf, Y/N?" he asks, trying to include you in the conversation. "Remember that time you totally schooled JJ on that left break by the pier?"

"Fuck off, Pope," JJ snaps, his grip tightening on his beer bottle. "That was one time, and I was hungover as shit." Kiara places a calming hand on his thigh, but he shrugs it off, standing up abruptly. "I need another beer."

"Maybe you should slow down," Kiara suggests gently, reaching for his hand. "The competition's early tomorrow and-"

"I said I need another fucking beer," JJ cuts her off, his voice sharp. He stalks toward the kitchen, purposely taking the long way around to avoid passing near you. "And for the record," he adds, pausing in the doorway, "that left break? I let her win. Figured she needed the ego boost since she was so fucking fragile back then." The words are meant to wound, and from the way you tense beside him, Pope can tell they hit their mark.

John B stands up, running a hand through his hair. "JJ, bro, come on-"

"What?" JJ whirls around, his eyes blazing. "We all just gonna pretend like everything's normal? Like she didn't just fuck off for three years and come waltzing back expecting everything to be the same?" He lets out a bitter laugh. "Nah, I'm good. You guys can play happy fucking family without me."

The room falls into a heavy silence after JJ's outburst. Sarah is the first to speak, her voice gentle but firm. "JJ, that's enough." She moves from her perch on John B's chair, positioning herself between JJ and the rest of the group.

Your hands are shaking as you stand up, your voice quiet but steady. "You want to do this now? Fine." You take a step forward, ignoring Pope's attempt to grab your arm. "You think you're the only one who was hurt? You think you're the only one who was fucked up?" Your voice rises slightly, years of pent-up emotion breaking through. "I didn't just 'fuck off' to Maine for fun, JJ. I went because the alternative was being lowered into the ground in a fucking coffin!"

Kiara stands up too, torn between her boyfriend and her old friend. "Y/N, maybe we should-"

"No, Kie," you cut her off, your eyes locked on JJ. "He wants to talk about being fragile? About letting me win? At least I'm trying to get better. What are you doing, JJ? Getting drunk and picking fights? Real fucking healthy."

John B moves to intervene, but Pope holds him back, shaking his head. This has been brewing since the moment you walked through the door.

"You know what the difference is between us?" You continue, your voice cracking. "I admit I'm broken. I went and got help because I was tired of hurting everyone around me. But you?" You let out a hollow laugh. "You're still that same scared little boy, hiding behind your anger and your booze because god forbid anyone see that you're hurting too. You’re acting just like your daddy.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, the room erupts into chaos. JJ's beer bottle shatters in his hand as he lunges forward. "Don't you fucking DARE!" as John B and Pope rush to grab him. His muscles strain against their hold. "You don't get to say that shit! You don't get to fucking compare me to him!"

"JJ, stop!" Kiara shouts, but he's beyond hearing. His blue eyes are wild, unfocused, filled with a pain so deep it makes everyone in the room flinch. "You want to talk about being broken?" JJ spits, still fighting against John B and Pope's restraining arms. "At least I didn't run away! At least I stayed and faced my shit instead of leaving everyone wondering if you were even fucking alive!" His voice cracks on the last word, raw emotion bleeding through the anger. "Do you know how many times I drove by your house? How many nights I sat outside your window hoping you'd just... fuck!" 

 "Where the fuck was all this concern for mental health when I was showing up at your window covered in bruises? When I was sleeping on the beach because I was too scared to go home?" Blood continues to drip from his hand, creating a small puddle on the floor.

"You know what's really fucking funny?" JJ continues, his voice cracking. "The day you left? I was gonna tell you everything. About my dad, about how fucked up I was, about how you were the only person who made me feel like maybe I wasn't completely worthless." His words are like bullets, each one aimed to hit where it hurts most.

"Bro, calm down," John B grunts, struggling to maintain his grip. "This isn't helping-"

"Helping?" JJ lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "Nothing helps! Nothing fucking helps because she LEFT!" He finally breaks free, stumbling forward but not advancing towards you. Instead, he stands there, chest heaving, looking more vulnerable than any of them has ever seen him. "You left," he repeats, quieter now, his voice thick with unshed tears. "You left and I couldn't... I couldn't fucking breathe. And now you're back and I still can't breathe and I..." He runs his hands through his hair violently, turning away from everyone.

Pope steps forward cautiously. "JJ, maybe we should-"

"Don't," JJ cuts him off, his voice dangerous again. "Just... don't." He grabs his keys from the counter, ignoring Kiara's protests. "I need to get the fuck out of here before I..." He doesn't finish the sentence, just storms out, the screen door slamming behind him. The sound of his motorcycle roaring to life fills the night air moments later.

The room falls into a heavy silence after JJ's dramatic exit. You stand frozen, your whole body trembling as tears finally spill down your cheeks. Sarah is the first to move, wrapping her arms around you as you begin to sob.

"I didn't mean..." you choke out between sobs. "I didn't mean to say that about his dad. I just... I was so angry and..." You collapse onto the couch, Sarah still holding you while Kiara paces anxiously by the door.

"Someone needs to go after him," Kiara says, grabbing her jacket. "He's drunk and upset, he shouldn't be on that bike." She looks torn between staying with you and chasing after her boyfriend.

John B runs a hand through his hair, exchanging worried looks with Pope. "I'll go," he says, grabbing his keys. "Pope, you stay here with them. Sarah, can you...?" He gestures at you, who's still crying into Sarah's shoulder.

"I got her," Sarah assures him. "Just... bring him back in one piece, okay?"

Pope starts cleaning up the broken glass, his movements careful and methodical. "You know," he says quietly, "JJ never told anyone this, but he used to sleep in your treehouse after you left. We'd find him up there some mornings, usually after really bad nights with his dad."

"He kept your bracelet too," Kiara adds softly, still hovering by the door. "The one you made him at that bonfire. Wears it under his watch sometimes." She pauses, conflict clear on her face. "I should go with John B-"

"No," you say, wiping your eyes. "Stay. Please. I... I need to tell you all something. About why I really left." You take a shaky breath, looking around at your friends - the family you left behind. "It wasn't just the self-harm or the suicide attempt. There was... there was more. And JJ... he deserves to know the truth. You all do."

Sarah squeezes your hand encouragingly while Pope settles on the floor in front of you. The sound of the Twinkie starting up outside fills the momentary silence.

"Take your time," Sarah says gently. "We're listening." 

John B finds JJ at their usual spot - the abandoned dock near the marsh where they used to fish as kids. JJ's sitting at the edge, legs dangling over the water, a fresh beer in his hand that he definitely grabbed from his emergency stash hidden in the old boat nearby. His motorcycle is parked haphazardly in the grass, still ticking as it cools down.

"Figured I'd find you here," John B says, settling down next to his best friend. The moonlight reflects off the water, casting everything in a silvery glow. "That was quite a show back there, bro."

JJ takes a long pull from his beer, his knuckles still bloody from the broken bottle. "Fuck off, John B," he mutters, but there's no real heat behind it. His hands are shaking slightly as he brings the bottle back to his lips. "I don't need another fucking lecture about controlling my temper or whatever shit you're about to say."

"Actually," John B says, pulling out two fresh beers from his pocket and handing one to JJ, "I was gonna say she had no right bringing up your dad." He cracks open his beer, the sound echoing across the quiet marsh. "That was fucked up."

JJ lets out a hollow laugh, running his uninjured hand through his messy hair. "You know what's fucked up? She's right." His voice cracks slightly. "I am turning into him. Getting drunk, breaking shit, can't control my fucking temper..." He throws his empty bottle into the water with force, watching it disappear beneath the dark surface.

"Nah, man," John B shakes his head firmly. "You're nothing like Luke. You know how I know?" He waits until JJ looks at him. "Because you care. Like, actually give a shit about people. Luke never did." He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. "And you loved her. Still do, probably."

"Doesn't fucking matter now, does it?" JJ's voice is rough with emotion. "I'm with Kie. And Y/N... she's..." he trails off, unable to finish the sentence. The crickets chirp in the silence that follows, the marsh grass swaying in the gentle breeze.

"You know," John B says after a while, "Kie knows. Has known for a while, I think. About how you feel about Y/N." He takes another sip of his beer. "Maybe that's why she's been so... I don't know, different lately?"

JJ's head snaps up, his blue eyes wide in the moonlight. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Come on, bro," John B sighs. "You've been wearing that bracelet under your watch since the day Y/N left. You sleep in her old treehouse when shit gets bad. And the way you looked at her tonight... that wasn't just anger, man."

JJ stares out at the dark water, his jaw working as he processes John B's words. "It's not..." he starts, then stops, taking a long drink. "Fuck, man." The moonlight catches the silver threads in his shark tooth necklace as he shifts uncomfortably. "You can't just say shit like that about me and Kie."

"Why not?" John B presses, watching his best friend carefully. "Because it's true? Because you've been trying so hard to convince yourself that what you have with Kie is enough?" He dodges the empty beer can JJ throws at his head with practiced ease. "I love Kie, man. We all do. But she deserves better than being someone's second choice."

"You think I don't know that?" JJ explodes, jumping to his feet. He paces the dock, his shoes making the old wood creak. "You think I don't fucking hate myself for it? For not being able to..." he trails off, running both hands through his hair in frustration. "Y/N left, John B. She fucking left without a word and Kie... Kie was there. She picked up the pieces. She..."

"She's not Y/N," John B finishes quietly. The words hang in the humid night air, heavy with truth. "And that's not fair to any of you."

JJ stops pacing, bracing himself against one of the dock posts. His knuckles are white where they grip the wood, blood from his earlier injury leaving dark smears. "You should've seen her that night," he says so quietly John B almost misses it. "The night before she left. She came to my window like she always did when shit got bad. But something was different. She wouldn't look at me, wouldn't let me touch her. Just kept saying she was sorry." His voice cracks. "I should've known. Should've fucking done something."

"JJ..." John B starts, but JJ cuts him off.

"And now she's back," he continues, his voice rough. "She's back and she's wearing that fucking perfume that makes my head spin, and she's got these new scars I don't know the stories too, and she's looking at me like... like..." He slams his fist into the post, adding fresh splinters to his already injured hand. "Like I'm still that stupid kid who couldn't save her. How I didn't see how bad it was getting. How I was so caught up in my shit with my dad that I missed all the signs." He runs his hands through his hair roughly. "And you know what the worst part is? Even after everything, even with Kie... I still..." He can't finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to.

The marsh is quiet except for the gentle lapping of water against the dock and the distant sound of a boat horn. John B watches as his best friend falls apart, knowing there's nothing he can say to make this better. "Maybe," he finally suggests, "you should talk to Kie. Like, really talk to her. And then..." he hesitates. "Maybe you should talk to Y/N too. About everything."

JJ lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah? And say what? 'Sorry, I just had a fucking meltdown in front of everyone because seeing you still makes me feel like I'm drowning'? 'Sorry, I'm such a fuck up I couldn't even move on properly'?" He slides down to sit on the dock again, his energy seemingly drained. "Nah, man. Some things are better left buried."

The two make their way to the van it rumbles down the dark road, headlights cutting through the night as John B glances worriedly at JJ in the passenger seat. JJ is slumped against the window, his breath fogging up the glass, the streetlights casting intermittent shadows across his face. His bloody knuckles rest in his lap, the makeshift bandage John B made from his t-shirt already soaking through.

"Your dad's been better lately, right?" John B asks cautiously, turning onto JJ's street. "Like, with the new job and everything?" He knows these periods of calm with Luke are temporary, like the eye of a hurricane - peaceful until it's not.

JJ lets out a laugh, his eyes still fixed on the passing shadows outside. "Yeah, for now. Give it a week, maybe two if we're lucky." His voice is tired, drained of its usual energy. "He's actually buying groceries instead of beer. Fucking miracle, right?" The sarcasm in his voice is thick enough to cut.

As they pull up to JJ's house, they can see Luke's truck in the driveway, the porch light on - a rare sight. Through the window, they can see him moving around in the kitchen, looking almost normal, almost like a real father. "You sure you don't want to crash at my place?" John B offers, killing the engine. "Sarah won't mind, and you know Pope's probably got Y/N calmed down by now..."

"Don't," JJ warns, his voice sharp. "Just... don't say her name right now, okay?" He runs his uninjured hand through his hair, a nervous habit that's become more frequent since your return. "I can't... I can't think about that shit right now. About what she said, about Kie, about..." he trails off, shaking his head.

The front door opens, and Luke steps onto the porch. "JJ? That you, son?" His voice carries across the yard, lacking its usual angry slur. "Got some leftovers if you're hungry. Made that fish you like." The attempt at normalcy is almost more unsettling than his usual violence.

"Fuck," JJ mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Look at him, playing father of the year." He grabs his backpack from the backseat, wincing as the movement jars his injured hand. "Thanks for the ride, bro. And for..." he gestures vaguely, encompassing everything that happened at the dock.

"JJ," John B calls as his friend opens the door. "Just... be careful, okay? And if shit goes south..." He doesn't need to finish the sentence. They both know JJ's always got a place at the Chateau.

"Yeah, yeah," JJ forces a grin that doesn't reach his eyes. "Save the emotional shit for Sarah, man." He slams the van door, shouldering his backpack as he heads toward the house. Each step feels heavy like he's walking through water. The weight of everything - your return, his relationship with Kiara, his dad's temporary stability - sits on his shoulders like a physical burden.

Luke's waiting at the door, and for once, his eyes are clear. "Rough night?" he asks, noticing JJ's bandaged hand. There's genuine concern in his voice, the kind that makes JJ's chest ache because he knows it won't last.

He follows his father into the house, the familiar scent of fried fish and something else - hope, maybe? - filling the air. The kitchen is cleaner than he's seen it in years, dishes are actually washed and put away, no empty bottles littering the counters. It's like walking into a funhouse mirror version of his life, everything familiar but slightly wrong.

"Sit," Luke gestures to the table, already moving to reheat the food. "Got paid today. Foreman says I'm doing good work." There's pride in his voice, the kind JJ used to dream of hearing when he was younger. "Even got you something." He pulls out a small package from one of the kitchen drawers, sliding it across the table.

JJ stares at the package like it might bite him, his injured hand throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat. "Dad, you didn't have to..." he starts, but Luke waves him off.

"Open it," Luke insists, putting a plate of steaming fish and rice in front of JJ. "Saw it at the store, thought of you." His voice is gruff with emotion he doesn't know how to express.

With trembling fingers, JJ unwraps the package. Inside is a new surf wax and a professional-grade fishing lure - the expensive kind they used to admire together in the shop window when JJ was little. "This is..." he swallows hard, something thick and painful lodging in his throat.

"For the competition tomorrow," Luke explains, sitting down across from him with his own plate. "Figured you could use some good gear." He pauses, studying JJ's face. "Your hand gonna be okay to surf?"

JJ flexes his fingers experimentally, wincing. "Yeah, it's fine. Just some scratches." He doesn't mention how he got them, and Luke doesn't ask. Some things are better left unsaid, even in this temporary peace.

They eat in relative silence, the only sounds are the scrape of forks against plates and the distant hum of crickets outside. JJ can't help but wait for the other shoe to drop, for his father to notice the alcohol on his breath, or ask why he came home so late. But Luke just keeps eating, occasionally glancing at JJ with something that looks almost like concern.

"Y/N’s back," Luke says suddenly, making JJ choke on his rice. "Saw her at the store today. She's grown up nice." He says it casually, like he doesn't know the weight those words carry like he doesn't remember the nights JJ came home drunk and broken after you left.

JJ's grip on his fork tightens, his knuckles white. "Dad..." he warns, but Luke continues.

"You know, I never told you this," Luke sets down his fork, his voice unusually serious. "But that girl... she used to come by sometimes when you were out. Would bring groceries, say she was just dropping off extras her mom bought." He lets out a dry laugh. "We both knew she was lying. She was checking on you, making sure I hadn't..." he trails off, shame coloring his voice.

The revelation hits JJ like a physical blow. He pushes back from the table, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I can't... I can't do this right now," he manages to say, his voice rough. "Thanks for dinner. And the..." he gestures at the gifts, unable to finish.

Luke nods, understanding in his eyes that hurts worse than any punch he's ever thrown. "Get some rest, son. Big day tomorrow." He watches as JJ practically flees to his room, the sound of his door closing echoing through the unusually quiet house.

In his room, JJ collapses onto his bed. The surf wax and lure sit on his nightstand, mocking him with their newness, their promise of a father he's always wanted but never quite had. He pulls out his phone, seeing missed calls from Kiara and texts from the group chat. But it's his wallpaper that catches his eye - still that old photo of him and you at the beach, your smile bright and real, his arm around your shoulders. He'd never changed it, not even after starting things with Kiara.

"Fuck," he whispers into the darkness, throwing his arm over his eyes. Tomorrow's competition suddenly seems like the least of his problems.

JJ is hunched over his surfboard on the front porch, a half-eaten piece of toast dangling from his mouth as he meticulously applies the new wax his father gave him. The morning sun casts long shadows across the worn wood of the porch, the air already thick with humidity. His injured hand throbs as he works, the makeshift bandage John B wrapped it in last night now stained and fraying.

The knock makes him jump, nearly dropping the wax block. "It's open!" he calls out, not looking up from his work. He knows it's Kiara before she even speaks - recognizes the pattern of her footsteps, the jingle of the shell anklet she always wears.

"Hey," Kiara's voice is soft and cautious. She's wearing her competition bikini under a loose tank top, her curly hair pulled back in a messy bun. "You weren't answering your phone." She settles down next to him on the porch steps, close but not touching - a careful distance that speaks volumes.

JJ continues working on his board, his movements perhaps more aggressive than necessary. "Yeah, well, been kind of busy." He gestures at the board with his injured hand, causing Kiara to suck in a sharp breath at the sight of his knuckles.

"Jesus, JJ," she reaches for his hand but he pulls away, standing up abruptly. "We need to talk about last night-"

"No," JJ cuts her off, running his good hand through his already messy hair. "We really don't. I fucked up, lost my temper, same old shit. Can we just..." he trails off, finally looking at her. The concern in her eyes makes his stomach twist with guilt.

Kiara stands too, crossing her arms. "Y/N told us everything last night," she says quietly. "After you left. About why she really went away." She watches as JJ's entire body tenses, his jaw clenching. "JJ, it wasn't just about the self-harm and the attempt. She was-"

"Stop," JJ's voice is sharp, dangerous. He turns away from her, gripping the porch railing so hard his knuckles turn white. "I don't want to know. I can't... I can't hear that shit right now. Not before the competition."

"You can't keep running from this," Kiara says, her voice stronger now. "And you can't keep pretending that what we have is..." she stops, taking a deep breath. "I see the way you look at her, JJ. I've always seen it. Even when you're angry at her, even when you're with me, you look at her like... like she's the sun and you're drowning in her light."

JJ lets out a bitter laugh, turning back to face her. "That's some poetic shit, Kie." But there's no humor in his voice, just pain and exhaustion. "What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? That I'm a fucking mess who can't get his shit together? That I-"

"I want you to be honest," Kiara interrupts. "With me, with yourself, with her." She steps closer, reaching up to touch his face gently. "We both knew this wasn't forever, JJ. We were just... holding each other together until something better came along."

"You deserve better than that," JJ says quietly, leaning into her touch despite himself. "Better than me using you as a bandaid for my fucked up heart."

Kiara smiles sadly. "Yeah, I do. And so do you." She drops her hand, stepping back. "The competition starts soon. Y/N’s entering too, by the way. JJ? She still wears that shell necklace you made her. Never took it off, even in Maine."

The information hits JJ like a physical blow, making him grip the railing tighter. The surf wax sits abandoned on his board, the morning sun turning it soft and sticky. JJ sighs heavily, sliding down to sit on the porch steps. The morning sun continues to rise, casting long shadows across the yard where weeds push through cracked concrete - a perfect metaphor for their relationship, beautiful things growing in broken places.

"You're not mad?" JJ asks finally, his voice rough. He picks at the fraying bandage on his hand, avoiding her eyes. "About... everything?"

Kiara lets out a soft laugh sitting back down next to him bumping his shoulder with hers. "I mean, I probably should be. But honestly?" She tilts her face toward the sun, closing her eyes. "I think I've known since the beginning. We were both just... trying to fill empty spaces."

JJ runs his good hand through his hair, a nervous habit he can't shake. "You're too good for this shit, Kie. Too good for me and my fucked up baggage." He glances at her sideways. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know," Kiara says simply. "And hey, at least we had some good times, right?" She grins at him, that familiar sparkle in her eyes. "Like that time we got caught skinny dipping at the country club pool?"

"Fuck," JJ laughs despite himself, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Your dad's face when he found us... thought he was gonna have a stroke." The memory feels lighter now, less weighted with guilt.

They sit in comfortable silence for a moment. Finally, Kiara speaks again, her voice gentle but firm. "You need to talk to her, JJ. Like, really talk to her. No yelling, no running away."

JJ's jaw tightens. "Kie..."

"No, listen," she cuts him off. "What she told us last night... it changes things. And you deserve to know." She stands up, brushing off her shorts. "But first, you need to kick Topper's ass in this competition. Show him that pogues rule the waves, right?"

JJ looks up at her, gratitude and affection washing over him. "How are you so fucking cool about all this?"

Kiara shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. "Because I love you both, you idiot. Just... not in the way we've been pretending." She starts walking backward toward her car. "See you at the beach. And JJ?" She pauses. "Whatever Y/N told us last night? It's not my story to tell. But when she does tell you... just remember she never stopped loving you either."

JJ watches her drive away, his heart feeling both lighter and heavier at the same time. He turns back to his surfboard, running his fingers over the fresh wax. The competition starts soon, and somewhere on that beach, you’ll be there. The thought makes his stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with pre-competition nerves.

The beach is alive with pre-competition energy, the morning sun casting long shadows across the sand as spectators and competitors mill about. The group has claimed your usual spot, a patch of sand near the judges' stand where you're spread out with blankets and coolers. The air smells of salt spray and sunscreen, mixed with the distant scent of food vendors setting up their stalls.

JJ sits cross-legged next to Pope, obsessively checking the fins on his board while stealing glances at you. His injured hand is wrapped in fresh bandages - Pope's handiwork from earlier that morning. "You think the swell's gonna hold?" he asks Pope, his voice tighter than usual. "Weather report said it might pick up around noon."

"Dude, stop stressing," Pope replies, not looking up from his phone where he's tracking the wind patterns. "You could surf these waves in your sleep." He pauses, glancing at his friend. "Though maybe focus more on the waves and less on staring at Y/N every five seconds?"

A few feet away, Kiara and you sit huddled over your board, your heads close together as you work on the design. "Pass me the blue paint?" Kiara asks, her voice carefully casual. "I think it'll pop against the white."

"Here," You hand over the paint pen, your finger steady as you work on your own section of the board. "Thanks for helping me with this, Kie. I know it's... weird."

Sarah's voice carries over from where she's practically sitting in John B's lap, her laugh bright in the morning air. "John B, I swear to God, if you get any more sunscreen in my hair..." She squirms as he deliberately rubs more lotion on her neck.

"What? I'm being helpful!" John B protests, grinning. "Can't have my girl turning into a lobster." He catches JJ's eye and makes an exaggerated kissing face, earning himself a handful of sand thrown his way.

"Get a room, you two," Pope groans, but there's affection in his voice. "Some of us are trying to focus here."

"Yeah, focus on what?" JJ snaps, more harshly than intended. "The competition doesn't start for another hour." His eyes drift back to you, watching as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear - a gesture so familiar it makes his chest ache.

"Speaking of the competition," Sarah pipes up, clearly trying to diffuse the tension, "heard Topper's been practicing his aerial moves. Might actually give you a run for your money this time, JJ."

"Please," JJ scoffs, his trademark cockiness returning. "Trust fund baby probably had to pay someone to teach him which end of the board goes in front." But his bravado falters when he catches you hiding a smile at his comment.

"The waves are looking good though," you offer quietly, your first direct contribution to the group conversation. "Nice clean sets coming in." Your voice carries over the beach noise, making JJ's hands still on his board.

The group falls into a loaded silence, everyone pretending not to notice the way JJ and you carefully avoid looking at each other, or how Kiara's shoulders relax slightly when JJ doesn't snap back with a sarcastic comment.

"Alright, enough of this weird energy," Pope announces, standing up and brushing sand off his shorts. "Who wants to help me get drinks from the vendor? We've got..." he checks his watch, "forty-five minutes to get JJ properly hydrated before he has to show these kooks how it's done."

"Let me help," Sarah jumps up, linking her arm through Pope's. "John B, Y/N, you coming?" There's a pointed look in her eyes that everyone pretends not to notice.

"I'm good," You reply, still focused on your board design. "Need to finish this before the competition starts." Your fingers trace the intricate pattern you and Kiara have created - waves and stars intertwining across the white surface.

"Me too," John B replies, stretching out on their blanket. "Someone's gotta make sure these two don't kill each other." He gestures vaguely between JJ and you, earning himself a glare from both of you.

Kiara looks up from the surfboard, her hands covered in paint. "Get me one of those açai bowls if they have them?" she calls after Pope and Sarah. "And maybe some water for everyone? It's getting hot out here."

As Pope and Sarah head toward the vendors, the remaining group falls into an awkward silence. JJ continues fidgeting with his board, though there's nothing left to adjust. The morning sun beats down on you, the humidity making everything feel sticky and tense. The beach is getting more crowded now, the excitement building as more competitors arrive with their boards.

"Your hand looks better," You say suddenly, your voice soft but carrying clearly over the beach noise. You're still focused on your board, not looking up, but your fingers have stilled on the paint pen.

JJ flexes his injured hand unconsciously. "Yeah, well, Pope's got practice wrapping shit up. Comes with being friends with a walking disaster." He tries for his usual sarcastic tone but it falls flat.

"Remember that time you tried to do a backflip off the pier?" John B interjects, clearly trying to ease the tension. "Pope had to use an entire first aid kit on your stupid ass."

"That was one time," JJ protests, a genuine smile finally cracking through his facade. "And I totally would've landed it if that jellyfish hadn't been in the way."

"There was no jellyfish," Kiara laughs, rolling her eyes. "You just chickened out halfway through."

"I did not!" JJ's voice rises indignantly. "Tell them, Y/N/N, you were there-" He cuts himself off abruptly, realizing he'd used your old nickname without thinking.

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the distant sound of waves and other competitors warming up. Your hand has started trembling slightly, though you try to hide it by gripping the paint pen tighter.

"There definitely wasn't a jellyfish," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. "But there was that group of tourist girls watching, and you were trying to show off..."

"Classic JJ," John B jumps in, trying to keep the conversation flowing. "Always trying to impress the ladies with his 'sick moves.'" He makes air quotes with his fingers.

The moment breaks when someone calls out "Maybank!" from down the beach. It's one of the competition organizers, clipboard in hand. "You're up in heat three, twenty minutes!"

"Shit," JJ mutters, standing up and grabbing his board. "I should probably warm up or whatever." He pauses, looking down at your board. "The design's good," he says quietly, before quickly adding, "Both of you. It's... yeah." He turns and jogs toward the water, his board under his arm.

"Well, that was almost a normal conversation," John B observes, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Kiara. "What? I'm just saying..."

"I should warm up too," You say suddenly, standing and picking up your board. The morning sun catches the shell necklace around your neck - the one JJ made you years ago - making it gleam.

"Want company?" Kiara offers, but you shake your head.

"I need to..." you gesture vaguely toward the opposite end of the beach from where JJ went. "You know."

They watch as you walk away, your hair blowing in the ocean breeze. John B wraps an arm around Kiara's shoulders. "They'll figure it out," he says confidently. "They always do."

"Yeah," Kiara agrees, leaning into him. "But how many hearts are gonna get broken in the process?"

The question hangs in the air as they watch you two paddle out into the waves from opposite ends of the beach, like magnets simultaneously attracting and repelling each other. The waves crash against the shore as the competition gets underway, the beach packed with spectators cheering from the sand. The morning sun glints off the water, creating perfect conditions for the surfers waiting in the lineup. JJ sits on his board, straddling it as he watches the sets roll in, his injured hand gripping the rails slightly tighter than necessary. He's in heat three, along with you and Kiara, a cruel twist of fate that has his stomach in knots.

From the beach, John B's voice carries over the crowd. "Let's go, JJ! Show these kooks how it's done!" Sarah and Pope join in with their cheers, their enthusiasm infectious enough to draw smiles from other spectators.

JJ catches sight of you about twenty yards to his left, the shell necklace he made you glints in the sun. You're focused on the horizon, reading the waves with an intensity he remembers well from your late-night surfing sessions years ago. Kiara floats between you two, creating a triangle formation in the water, her presence both a buffer and a reminder of everything that's changed.

"First wave of heat three!" the announcer's voice booms over the speakers. "Riders, get ready!"

A set approaches and JJ feels the familiar surge of adrenaline. He watches as you turn your board, positioning yourself for the wave. Your form is different now - more refined, more confident. You catch the wave with practiced ease, your movement fluid as you drop in. The crowd cheers as you execute a perfect bottom turn, spraying water in an arc that catches the sunlight.

"Fuck," JJ mutters under his breath, both impressed and frustrated. He spots his own wave approaching, bigger than yours, and paddles hard. As he pops up, everything else fades away - the crowd, the competition, the complicated mess of emotions. It's just him and the wave, the way it's always been. He drives hard off the bottom, launching into an aerial that has the crowd screaming. His injured hand protests as he grabs his rail, but he sticks the landing, finishing with a powerful snap off the lip.

Kiara catches the next wave, her style more aggressive than yours but equally skilled. She shoots JJ a quick smile as she paddles back out, no trace of their earlier conversation in her expression. You're all competitors now, regardless of your personal drama.

The heat continues, each rider pushing themselves harder with each wave. JJ finds himself watching you more than he should, noticing how you’ve incorporated new techniques into your surfing. There's a grace to your movements that wasn't there before, a confidence that makes his chest tight with something between pride and regret.

From the beach, Pope's voice cuts through the crowd noise: "Time check! Two minutes left in the heat!"

JJ sits up straighter on his board, scanning for one last good wave. He needs something big to secure his spot in the finals. A set approaches, and he can see both you and Kiara eyeing it too. It's the kind of wave you used to fight over during your dawn patrol sessions - clean, powerful, perfect for showing off.

The tension in the water is palpable as you all turn toward shore, ready to battle for position. JJ glances at you, catching your eye for the first time since you paddled out. For a moment, it's like nothing has changed - you're just two kids from the Cut, living for the next wave. Then the moment breaks as the announcer's voice booms: "Final wave of heat three approaching! Who's gonna take it?"

The tension crackles through the air as all three surfers eye the approaching wave. JJ's muscles tense as he prepares to paddle, but suddenly you make your move first, cutting across his line with precise timing. You catch the wave perfectly, popping up with fluid grace that makes the crowd gasp.

"Holy shit!" John B's voice carries over the noise as you drop into the face of the wave. Your form is flawless, body low and controlled as you set up for your first maneuver. 

JJ can't help but watch, even as he and Kiara paddle back to position. You carve up the face of the wave, your movements more aggressive than before, spraying water in an arc that catches the sunlight. You transition into a series of snaps that have the judges leaning forward in their seats, before setting up for your finale.

"No fucking way," JJ mutters, recognizing the setup. It's a move you used to practice together, late at night when the beach was empty - a risky aerial that you’d perfected during those endless summer sessions. You launch off the lip, grabbing your rail and rotating in a way that seems to defy gravity. The landing is clean, and precise, sending another spray of water toward the sky as the crowd erupts.

"That's my girl!" Sarah screams from the beach, jumping up and down while clutching John B's arm. Pope's got his phone out, recording everything while shouting his own encouragement.

As you paddle back out, JJ catches your eye again. There's something different in your expression now - a mix of pride, challenge, and something else he can't quite read. Kiara paddles up beside him, a knowing look on her face.

"Damn," Kiara whistles low. "She's been practicing."

"Time!" The announcer's voice booms across the water. "Heat three is complete! Riders, return to shore for scoring."

The paddle back is quiet, each lost in your own thoughts as the judges figure out scores. JJ can feel the energy on the beach, knowing without looking that your last wave changed everything. As you hit the shallows, John B and Pope rush out to help with your boards.

"That was fucking insane!" John B exclaims, grabbing your board. "When did you learn to fly?"

You push your wet hair back, that shell necklace still somehow perfectly in place. "Maine has waves too," you say quietly, but your eyes flick to JJ as you say it. "Different, but good for practicing."

"Attention competitors," the announcer's voice cuts through their conversation. "Scores for heat three are ready..."

The group falls silent, tension building as you wait for the results. JJ finds himself holding his breath, his injured hand throbbing. The morning sun is high now, turning the ocean into a field of diamonds, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers teaching you that aerial on a night just like this, under a full moon with no one else around.

The announcer's voice crackles over the speakers: "In third place, with a score of 8.7 - Kiara Carrera!"

Kiara grins, accepting high-fives from the group. "Not bad for a warmup," she says, squeezing water from her hair. Her eyes dart between JJ and you, anticipating what comes next.

"In second place, with a score of 9.2..." The pause feels endless, "JJ Maybank!"

JJ's jaw tightens, his fingers flexing around his board. He knows what's coming, and can feel it in the electric tension running through their little group. Pope claps him on the shoulder, but he barely feels it.

"And taking first place in heat three, with a score of 9.8 - Y/N L/N! That final aerial was something else, folks!"

The beach erupts in cheers, but JJ's focused on your face - the way your eyes widen in surprise, the slight tremor in your hands as Sarah pulls you into a crushing hug. You look exactly like you did years ago when you landed your first aerial under his guidance.

"Holy shit, Y/N!" John B whoops, lifting you off your feet in celebration. "That was fucking incredible!"

"All riders advancing to the finals, please check the board for heat assignments," the announcer continues. "Thirty-minute break before the next round."

JJ watches as they swarm you with congratulations, his emotions a tangled mess he can't sort through. Pride, jealousy, regret, and something deeper, something that feels like the undertow that used to drag you both out during night sessions.

"You taught her that aerial," Kiara says quietly beside him, her voice carrying a knowing tone. "I remember watching you two practice it for weeks."

Before JJ can respond, you break away from the group, approaching them with hesitant steps. You're holding something in your hand - his old surf wax, the one he'd always let you borrow during your sessions.

"Found this in my bag this morning," you say, your voice barely audible over the beach noise. "Thought you might want it back." Your finger brushes his as you hand it over, sending a jolt through his system that has nothing to do with the competition.

"Keep it," he finds himself saying, his voice rougher than intended. "Looks like you're putting it to better use anyway." He tries to make it sound casual, but there's too much history in those words, too many memories of dawn patrols and midnight sessions and promises made under starlit skies.

The moment stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words, until Pope's voice breaks through: "Guys! They're posting the final heat assignments!"

The group moves toward the bulletin board, but JJ hangs back, watching you walk away. The shell necklace catches the light again, and he remembers making it for you on this very beach, his fingers working the knots while you talked about constellations and dreams and futures that seemed possible then.

"You okay?" Kiara asks, lingering beside him.

"Yeah," JJ lies, running a hand through his salt-stiffened hair. "Just... fuck." He doesn't need to finish the sentence. Kiara understands - she always has.

The finals loom ahead, but all JJ can think about is that aerial, and how your form was exactly the same as when he first taught it to you, right down to the way you point your toes during the rotation. Some things, it seems, don't change - even when everything else does.

The beach is winding down as the sun begins its descent, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks. The competition crowd has thinned, leaving behind only the most dedicated spectators and the Pogues, who are sprawled out on their blankets celebrating their friends' success. JJ, you, and Kiara stand together on the podium, your medals glinting in the late afternoon light.

"Third place, Kiara Carrera!" The announcer's voice booms one final time. Kiara grins, holding up her bronze medal as Sarah and John B whoop and holler from the crowd.

"Second place, Y/N L/N!" You step forward, accepting your silver medal with a small smile. The shell necklace around your neck catches the light, drawing JJ's attention momentarily.

"And your first-place winner, JJ Maybank!" The crowd erupts as JJ accepts his gold medal, his signature cocky grin in place despite the storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. His final wave had been spectacular - a combination of raw power and technical skill that even the most critical judges couldn't deny.

As you step down from the podium, Pope approaches with a cooler. "Time to celebrate properly!" he announces, pulling out beers for everyone. The group gravitates toward your usual spot on the beach, away from the dispersing crowd.

"To the most talented pogues in the OBX!" John B raises his beer, his other arm wrapped around Sarah's waist. "And to Kiara for not killing JJ when he snake dropped her wave in the finals!"

"Hey!" JJ protests, but he's laughing. "All's fair in love and surfing, right?" The words hang in the air for a moment, loaded with meaning as his eyes unconsciously drift to you.

"That last aerial though," Pope interjects, sensing the tension. "Thought you were gonna break your neck, JJ."

"Please," JJ scoffs, taking a long drink from his beer. "That was nothing compared to the shit we used to pull during night sessions." He freezes slightly, realizing what he's said, and who he's referencing.

You shift beside him, your silver medal catching the dying light. "Remember that time we tried to surf during a lightning storm?" You say quietly, surprising everyone. "John B had to come to rescue us in the Twinkie."

"Jesus," Sarah laughs, but her eyes are watchful. "You two were always doing crazy shit like that."

The group falls into a comfortable rhythm of storytelling and laughter, the competition tension slowly easing. JJ finds himself hyper-aware of your presence, the way you laugh at John B's terrible jokes, and how you unconsciously play with that shell necklace when you're thinking.

"You've improved," he says suddenly when the others are distracted by Pope's dramatic reenactment of a wipeout. "Your form, I mean. It's... different. Better."

You look at him, really look at him, for what feels like the first time since you’ve been back. "Had a good teacher," you reply softly, your fingers still toying with the necklace. "Some things you don't forget, even when you're trying to."

The weight of unspoken words hangs between you, heavy as storm clouds. Kiara watches you two from across the circle, a knowing look in her eyes as she catches JJ's gaze.

The Wreck is bustling with the usual dinner crowd, but Kiara's parents have reserved the back section for their celebration. The smell of fried shrimp and hush puppies fills the air as you pile around your favorite table, medals still hanging around the winners' necks. The sunset streams through the windows, casting everything in a warm golden glow.

JJ slouches in his chair, one arm draped over the back as he nurses his beer. His eyes keep drifting to you, who's sitting between Sarah and Pope, your hair still damp from the ocean. The shell necklace catches the light every time you move, a constant reminder of everything that's changed and everything that hasn't.

"Yo, check it out," John B nudges JJ, nodding toward the entrance where Topper and Rafe are making their way over. The entire table tenses slightly, years of rivalry making everyone wary.

"Hey," Topper says, stopping at their table. He looks different - less aggressive than usual, almost humble. "Just wanted to say... that was some sick surfing today. All of you." His eyes linger on you for a moment longer than necessary, making JJ's jaw clench.

Rafe, surprisingly sober, nods in agreement. "That move in the finals, Maybank? Pretty fucking impressive." He shifts uncomfortably, clearly not used to complimenting pogues. "And Y/N... didn't know you had moves like that."

"Thanks," you reply quietly, your fingers automatically going to the shell necklace. The gesture doesn't go unnoticed by anyone at the table, especially JJ.

"Yeah, well," JJ starts, his voice carrying an edge, but Kiara kicks him under the table. He swallows whatever sarcastic comment he is about to make. "Thanks, man. You weren't half bad either, Topper."

"Listen," Topper says, running a hand through his hair. "We're having a bonfire in Figure Eight tonight. Victory party kind of thing. You guys should come." The invitation hangs in the air, surprising everyone.

Sarah raises an eyebrow at her brother. "Rafe? You're okay with this?"

Rafe shrugs, looking almost uncomfortable. "New leaf and all that shit, right? Besides," he grins, some of his old cockiness returning, "can't let you pogues have all the fun."

The group exchanges looks, years of kook-pogue rivalry making them hesitant. It's Pope who finally speaks up. "Yeah, alright. Could be fun."

"Cool," Topper nods, already backing away. "Starts at nine. Bring whatever." He and Rafe head back to their table, leaving you in stunned silence.

"Did that just happen? Did we just have a civil conversation with Topper and Rafe?" Kiara says surprised.

"End times," Pope declares solemnly, making everyone laugh. "The apocalypse is definitely coming."

"Well, that was weird," John B says, voicing what everyone's thinking. "Think it's a trap?"

"Nah," Sarah shakes her head. "Topper's been different lately. And Rafe... well, rehab changed him. A little, anyway."

JJ snorts, taking another drink. "Still don't trust them." His eyes find you again. "You gonna go?"

The question feels heavier than it should, loaded with implications. You meet his gaze, something unreadable in your expression. "Maybe," you say softly. "Might be nice to see how the other half lives, right?"

The tension at the table shifts, everyone pretending not to notice the way JJ's grip tightens on his beer bottle, or how your fingers haven't left that shell necklace since Topper walked away.

"Well," Kiara stands up, ever the peacemaker, "if we're doing this, we should probably get more food first. Can't show up to a kook party on empty stomachs." She heads toward the kitchen, leaving the others to navigate the complicated dynamics at the table.

The bonfire casts dancing shadows across the beach as JJ stands near the water's edge, the sound of waves mixing with distant laughter and music from the kook party. He's already several beers in, trying to drown out the memories that keep surfacing every time he catches sight of you. The others have conspicuously disappeared - John B and Sarah wandering off toward the dunes, Pope getting caught up in some debate about marine biology with a group of college kids, and Kiara conveniently remembering she needed to help set up the speakers.

You approach quietly, your presence announced only by the soft crunch of sand under your feet. You’ve changed since dinner, wearing a loose white beach dress that catches the firelight, that damn shell necklace still around your neck. Without warning, you reach out and take his beer, replacing it with a bottle of water.

"The fuck, Y/N/N?" JJ protests, the nickname slipping out before he can stop it. His voice is rougher than usual, whether, from the alcohol or emotion, it's hard to tell.

"You've had enough," you say softly, but firmly. "And we both know you get mean when you drink too much." There's no judgment in your voice, just stated fact - you know him too well, even after all this time.

JJ runs a hand through his hair, agitation clear in every movement. "Yeah? And what makes you think you still get to make that call?" The words come out harsh, but he takes a drink from the water bottle anyway.

You settle into the sand, patting the spot next to you. After a moment's hesitation, JJ sits too, maintaining careful distance between you two. The fire casts an orange glow across your skin.

"Remember the last bonfire we were at together?" You ask suddenly, your voice barely audible over the waves. "Before... everything?"

JJ tenses beside you, his fingers digging into the sand. "Don't," he warns, but there's less bite in his voice now. "We're not doing this, Y/N."

"Aren't we?" You turn to look at him fully, the firelight reflecting in your eyes. "Because I think we've been doing this dance since I got back. Everyone sees it, JJ. Even Kiara-"

"Leave Kie out of this," he snaps, but you both know it's a weak protest. His hand unconsciously moves toward yours in the sand before he catches himself. The shell necklace gleams as you shift, drawing his attention. "You kept it," he says suddenly, nodding toward the necklace. "Even in Maine."

"Never took it off," you admit quietly. "Even when they..it was the only piece of home I had left. The only piece of you."

JJ's breath catches at your words, his fingers curling into fists in the sand. The firelight dances across your faces as the party continues behind you, but you might as well be alone on the beach. The sound of waves seems to grow louder, matching the thundering of his heart.

"You can't just..." he starts, his voice cracking.

"You can't just say shit like that, Y/N. Not after... not after everything."

You shift slightly closer, the hem of your white dress brushing against his leg. "Then what can I say, JJ? Because we need to talk about it. About that night. About why I really left." 

"Yeah?" JJ's voice turns sharp, defensive. "What's there to talk about? You made your choice. You left. End of fucking story." But his eyes betray him, constantly drawn to your face, to the necklace, to the way the firelight catches in your hair.

"It wasn't a choice," you say quietly, your voice trembling slightly. "My parents found the letters, JJ. The ones I wrote to you about... about everything. About your dad, about what we were planning..." You take a shaky breath. "About how much I loved you."

JJ's whole body goes rigid at your words. The water bottle crumples in his grip, forgotten. "Stop," he says, but it sounds more like a plea than a command. "Just... fuck, Y/N."

"You want to know why I really left?" You continue, your voice stronger now. "Because that night, after I left your house, after your dad..." you swallow hard. "After I saw what he did to you, I went home and wrote everything down. Every bruise I'd helped you hide, every night you climbed through my window bleeding, every time you flinched when someone moved too fast. I was going to turn him in, JJ. I couldn't watch him hurt you anymore."

The confession hangs in the air between you, heavy as storm clouds. JJ's breathing has become ragged, his jaw clenched so tight it must hurt. Behind you, someone cranks up the music, but it feels distant, muffled like you're underwater.

"My parents found the letters before I could do anything," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. "They read everything - about us, about your dad, about how we were planning to run away after graduation. They didn't give me a choice, JJ. It was either Maine or..." 

JJ stares at the water, his whole body vibrating with tension as he processes your words. The firelight catches the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, but he blinks them away furiously. His injured hand flexes in the sand, leaving small indentations that quickly fill with darkness.

"You were gonna..." he starts, his voice hoarse. "You were trying to protect me?" A bitter laugh escapes him. "Fuck, Y/N. I thought... all this time I thought you just couldn't handle my shit anymore. Thought you got tired of dealing with the fucked up pogue kid."

You shift closer, close enough that your shoulders brush. The contact sends electricity through both of you. "I could never get tired of you, JJ," you whisper, your voice catching. "Even in Maine, even when they had me so medicated I could barely remember my own name... I never stopped..."

"Don't," he cuts you off roughly, but he doesn't move away. "You can't just come back here and tell me all this shit. You can't just..." he runs his hand through his hair again, agitation clear in every movement. "Fuck, do you know what it did to me? Finding your room empty that morning? Your mom wouldn't tell me anything, just kept saying you were 'getting help' like you were some kind of..." he can't finish the sentence.

"I tried to call," you admit quietly. "That first month, I called your number every day until they took my phone. Left so many voicemails I filled up your inbox." You touch the shell necklace again, a habit he's starting to recognize as nervous comfort. "Did you... did you ever listen to them?"

"Every fucking one. Over and over until the system deleted them." He finally turns to look at you fully, his eyes intense in the firelight. "I still have that old phone. Can't bring myself to throw it away because it's got your last message saved."

The confession hangs between you, heavy with meaning. Behind you, the party continues, but you might as well be alone on the beach. The waves crash steadily, a rhythm you both know by heart from countless night sessions together.

"I kept every letter," You say softly. "The ones they wouldn't let me send. There's a whole box of them under my bed. Three years' worth of things I needed to tell you." Your hand moves unconsciously toward his in the sand, stopping just short of touching.

JJ stares at the ocean for a long moment, processing everything. The firelight dances across his features as he finally turns back to you, his expression raw and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen since that last night three years ago.

"Every time something good happened, or something shit happened, or just... anything happened, my first thought was always 'I gotta tell Y/N.' Then I'd remember you weren't there anymore." He lets out a shaky breath. "Took me almost a year to stop turning to tell you stuff."

Your hand finally bridges the gap between them, your fingers brushing against his in the sand. Neither of you pulls away. "I did the same thing," you admit. "In group therapy, they'd ask who we missed most from home. I'd always say my parents, but..." You touch the shell necklace with your free hand. "It was always you, JJ. Every single time."

JJ's thumb unconsciously strokes across your knuckles, a gesture so familiar it makes your heartache. "I can't..." He starts, his voice catching. "I can't go through losing you again, Y/N. I barely survived it the first time." The admission costs him, you can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tighten slightly against yours.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whisper, the words carrying on the ocean breeze. "Not this time. Not ever again." You turn your hand in the sand, properly lacing your fingers together. "I'm done running, JJ. From you, from us, from everything."

The silence that follows is heavy with possibility. Behind you, someone calls your names - probably Pope or Sarah looking for you - but neither moves. "We can't just pick up where we left off," JJ finally says, but he doesn't let go of your hand. "Too much has happened. We're different people now."

You nod, understanding in your eyes. "I know. But maybe..." you squeeze his hand gently. "Maybe we can start something new. Something better."

JJ looks at your intertwined hands, then back at your face - at the girl who's haunted his dreams for three years, who's sitting here now in the firelight wearing his necklace and holding his hand like you never left. "Yeah," he says softly, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. "Maybe we can."

The party continues behind you, but you stay there on the beach, hands linked, watching the waves and starting the long process of healing what was broken. It's not perfect, and it's not fixed, but it's a beginning. And sometimes, that's enough.

The moonlight streams through your bedroom window as you and JJ slip inside, your footsteps quiet on the hardwood floors. Your room looks different than JJ remembers - new paint, new decorations, but somehow still unmistakably you. The fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a soft glow over everything, creating shadows that dance across the walls.

JJ hovers near the door, hands shoved in his pockets as he watches you drop to your knees beside the bed. The fabric of your dress ghosting around your legs as you reach under the bed frame. His shell necklace catches the light as you move, making his chest tight with memories.

"It's here somewhere," You mutter, pushing aside boxes and old notebooks. "I kept everything organized when I moved back, but..." you trail off, stretching further under the bed. 

JJ forces himself to look away, focusing instead on the photos newly tacked to your wall. Most are recent - your time in Maine, new friends, new places. But there, in the corner, partially hidden behind others, he spots one that makes his breath catch. It's you two, three years ago, on the beach after a night session. His arm is around your shoulders, both of you grinning at the camera, saltwater still dripping from your hair.

"Found it!" Your voice pulls him back to the present. You emerge from under the bed with a large shoebox, worn at the edges and covered in doodles. Your hands shake slightly as you set it on the bed, looking up at JJ with uncertainty in your eyes.

"That's... all of them?" JJ asks, his voice rougher than intended. He takes a step closer, drawn by the box like a magnet. Three years of words you couldn't say, couldn't send, all contained in one shoebox.

You nod, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside the box. "Every letter I wrote. Every time I missed you, every time something reminded me of you, every time I..." you trail off, fingers tracing the edge of the box. "Every time I needed you to know I still loved you."

The admission hangs in the air between you, heavy with possibility. JJ moves closer, perching on the edge of the bed, careful to maintain some distance. The fairy lights cast soft shadows across your face as you open the box, revealing stacks of envelopes, some crisp and new, others worn from being handled repeatedly.

"You don't have to read them now," you say quickly, noticing how JJ's hands have started to shake. "I just... I needed you to know they existed. That I never stopped trying to reach you, even when I couldn't actually send them."

The tension breaks as he lets out a snort of laughter, picking up one of the envelopes. "Your handwriting still looks like shit, Y/N," he teases, falling easily back into your old dynamic. "Seriously, did they not teach penmanship in Maine?"

You gasp in mock offense, snatching the letter from his hands. "Excuse you, this is art." You fought back a smile though, relief evident in your features at his attempt to lighten the mood. "Not all of us can have perfect surfer boy handwriting."

"Perfect?" JJ grins, reaching for another letter. "Have you seen my grocery lists? Even Pope can't read them." He settles more comfortably on the bed, his earlier hesitation melting away. "Oh shit, this one's got little hearts drawn all over it. Fucking sap."

"Shut up," You laugh, shoving his shoulder playfully. "I was heavily medicated and missing your stupid face." You pull out another letter, this one covered in doodles of waves and surfboards. "Oh god, my therapy art phase. We don't talk about this one."

JJ snatches it before you can hide it, his eyes scanning the page with growing amusement. "Holy fuck, is that supposed to be me?" He points to a stick figure with spiky hair riding a wave. "My hair does not look like that!"

"It absolutely does when you first wake up," you argue, reaching for the letter. JJ holds it above his head, laughing as you try to grab it. "JJ Maybank, give that back!"

"Make me," he challenges, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. It feels like old times - him in your room, playfully arguing about nothing important, the weight of your earlier conversation temporarily lifted.

You lunge for the letter, causing you both to tumble backward onto your bed, letters scattering around you. JJ's still holding the drawing above his head, grinning as you try to reach it. "You're such an ass," you complain, but you're laughing too.

"Yeah, but you missed this ass," he quips, then freezes slightly, worried he's pushed too far. But You just roll your eyes, finally managing to snatch the letter back.

"Unfortunately," you sigh dramatically, settling beside him among the scattered letters. "Though I'm starting to question my judgment."

JJ clutches his chest in mock hurt. "Wow, three years and you're already tired of me? That's cold, Y/N. Ice cold." He picks up another letter, this one dated from about a year ago. "Oh look, more hearts. And are those little JJs surfing?"

"I'm going to murder you," you threaten, but there's no heat in it. You're watching him with soft eyes, taking in how the fairy lights cast shadows across his face, how his smile reaches his eyes for the first time since you’ve been back.

"Nah, you love me too much," he says automatically, then stills as he realizes what he's said. The playful atmosphere wavers for a moment, the weight of your history threatening to crash back in.

But you just smile, reaching out to fix his messy hair. "Yeah," you say softly. "I do."

The admission is simple, honest, lacking the heavy emotion of your beach conversation. JJ looks at you, really looks at you, surrounded by three years worth of letters you wrote to him, wearing his necklace, smiling at him like nothing's changed and everything's changed all at once.

"Well, shit," he says finally, a grin tugging at his lips. "That's convenient. 'Cause I might still love you too."

The moment stretches between you, charged with three years of unspoken feelings until JJ finally closes the distance. His lips meet yours softly at first, hesitant, like he's afraid you might disappear if he pushes too hard. His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheekbone as letters crinkle beneath you.

You respond immediately, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer. The kiss deepens, three years of longing and regret and love pouring into it. JJ tastes like ocean and bonfire smoke, exactly how you remember.

"Fuck," JJ breathes against your lips, pulling back slightly. His blue eyes are dark with emotion as he looks at you, his thumb still tracing patterns on your skin. "I've missed this. Missed you." His voice is rough, and vulnerable in a way he rarely allows himself to be.

You smile, tugging gently at his hair. "Yeah?" You tease, though your voice trembles slightly. "Even with my shit handwriting?"

JJ laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest where it's pressed against yours. "Especially with your shit handwriting," he murmurs, before capturing your lips again. This kiss is different - deeper, more urgent. His hand slides from your face to your neck, fingers brushing against the shell necklace.

You shift on the bed, letters scattering to the floor forgotten as you pull JJ closer. His weight settles over you naturally, like you never spent time apart. The fairy lights cast a soft glow over them, creating shadows that dance across your skin.

"Is this okay?" JJ asks between kisses, his forehead resting against yours. Despite his usual confidence, there's uncertainty in his voice. "We don't have to..."

You cut him off with another kiss, your hands sliding under his t-shirt to trace the familiar planes of his back. "JJ," you whisper against his lips. "Shut up."

He grins against your mouth, some of his usual cockiness returning. "Make me," he challenges, echoing your earlier playful banter. But there's heat in his voice now, promise in the way his fingers trail down your sides tracing the curve of your waist through the thin fabric of your white dress. His touch is familiar and electric, leaving trails of heat in its wake. The fairy lights cast a soft glow over them as he captures your lips again, deeper this time, more urgent.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathes against your mouth, his voice rough with want. His fingers find the hem of your dress, playing with the fabric as he kisses down your neck. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

"Don't you dare," you whisper, tugging at his hair the way you know he likes, The action draws a low groan from him, his hips pressing instinctively against yours. JJ pulls back slightly, his blue eyes dark with desire as he looks down at you. The shell necklace gleams against your skin, making his chest tight with emotion. He leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, following the path of the necklace.

"You're wearing too many clothes," he murmurs against your skin, his hands sliding higher under your dress. His touch is reverent, relearning every curve and dip of your body. When his fingers brush against the lace of your underwear, you both inhale sharply.

You tug at his shirt impatiently. "So are you," you breathe, helping him pull it over his head your hands immediately explore his chest. "God, I've missed touching you."

JJ's response is to kiss you again, hard and deep, as his hands work to dress up your body. "Lift up," he instructs softly, and you arch your back so he can pull the fabric over your head. The sight of you in just your underwear, his necklace resting between your breasts, makes him pause.

"What?" You ask, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. But JJ just shakes his head, leaning down to press kisses across your chest.

"Just..." he murmurs between kisses, "trying to memorize everything." His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through your bra. "In case this is a dream."

You reach up to touch JJ's face tenderly, your thumb tracing his bottom lip. "Not a dream," you whisper, pulling him down for another deep kiss. Your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him closer as his hands explore your body with increasing urgency.

JJ's fingers trace the edge of your bra, his touch teasing yet reverent. "Can I...?" he asks against your lips, and you nod, arching your back so he can reach the clasp. His hands are slightly shaky as he unhooks it like he still can't quite believe this is real.

"Fuck," he breathes as the garment falls away, revealing your breasts. The shell necklace rests between them, catching the fairy lights. JJ leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses across your chest. His tongue traces patterns on your skin, remembering exactly how to make you gasp.

Your hands tangle in his hair as he takes a nipple into his mouth, your back arching off the bed. "JJ," you moan softly, mindful of the quiet house. His free hand palms your other breast, thumb circling the sensitive peak until you're squirming beneath him.

"Missed these sounds," JJ murmurs against your skin, switching his attention to your other breast. "Missed making you fall apart." His hand slides down your stomach, fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. "Can still remember every spot that makes you shake."

To prove his point, he kisses down your ribs to that sensitive spot just below your left breast - the one that always makes you gasp. Sure enough, your breath hitches, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Still so responsive," he grins against your skin, nipping gently.

"Shut up," you breathe, but there's no heat in it. Your hands slide down his back, nails dragging lightly across his skin in the way you know drives him crazy. JJ groans, his hips pressing against yours instinctively.

"Make me," he challenges, echoing your earlier banter as he kisses lower, across your stomach. His fingers hook into your underwear, but he pauses, looking up at you with dark eyes. "Tell me you want this, Y/N/N. Tell me you want me."

You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him with eyes full of love and desire. The fairy lights cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity of his gaze. "I want you, JJ," you whisper. "Always have, always will."

When you reach the waistband of his shorts, he groans softly against your neck. "Can I?" You ask, fingers playing with the button of his shorts. JJ nods against your skin, his breath hot on your neck as you work the button free. The sound of his zipper seems loud in the quiet room.

JJ helps you slide his shorts down his legs, his breath catching as your fingers trace the waistband of his boxers. The fairy lights cast a soft glow over his skin, highlighting the muscles that flex under your touch. "Fuck, Y/N," he breathes as your hand palms him through the thin fabric. His hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction. "You're gonna kill me."

You smirk up at him, enjoying the way his breath hitches as you hook your fingers in his boxers. "That's the plan," you tease, slowly pulling the fabric down. JJ kicks them off impatiently, leaving him completely bare above you.

His hands slide up your thighs, fingers playing with the edge of your underwear. "These need to go," he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your hip bone. "Want to taste you again."

You lift your hips, letting him slide the lace down your legs. The shell necklace gleams against your skin as you move, drawing JJ's attention. He leans down, pressing kisses along the chain until he reaches the shell pendant resting between your breasts.

"Still can't believe you kept it," he whispers against your skin, his hands exploring your now-bare body with increasing urgency. "Kept wearing it all this time."

"Never took it off," you breathe, arching into his touch as his fingers trace patterns on your inner thighs. "It was like keeping a piece of you with me."

JJ groans at your words, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. His hand slides higher, fingers teasing where you want him most. "Tell me what you need," he murmurs against your mouth. "Want to make you feel good."

Your response is cut off by a gasp as his fingers find where you need him. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, "You," you manage to say. "Just you, JJ. Always you."

JJ's fingers trace slow, teasing circles against your sensitive flesh, watching with dark eyes as you arch beneath his touch. His other hand explores your body with reverent familiarity, relearning every curve and dip that he's missed for three long years. The fairy lights cast shifting shadows across your bare skin as you move together on your bed. "Fuck, you're so wet already," JJ breathes against your neck, his voice rough with desire. His fingers slide lower, teasing your entrance as his thumb continues its maddening circles. "Always so responsive for me, Y/N."

JJ can't resist leaning down to trace the chain of the necklace with his tongue, following its path down to where it rests against your sternum. "Please," you gasp as he slides one finger inside you, your legs spreading wider to accommodate him. "JJ, I need..."

"Tell me," he murmurs against your skin, adding a second finger and curling them just right. "Want to hear you say it, baby. Tell me what you need." Your response is cut off by a moan as his thumb presses harder, his fingers finding that spot inside you that makes you see stars. JJ watches your face intently, memorizing every expression of pleasure that crosses your features. His cock throbs insistently against your thigh, but he ignores it, focused entirely on making you fall apart.

"You," you finally manage, your voice breathy and desperate. "Need you inside me, JJ. Please."

JJ groans at your words, his control wavering. But he forces himself to maintain his slow pace, wanting to draw this out, to make it last. His fingers continue their steady rhythm as he kisses down your body, paying special attention to each sensitive spot he remembers.

"Not yet," he whispers against your hip bone, nipping gently at the skin there. "Want to taste you first. Been dreaming about this for three years, Y/N. Gonna take my time."

JJ settles between your thighs, his hot breath teasing your sensitive flesh as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. His fingers maintain their steady rhythm inside you, curling just right. "Missed how you taste," he murmurs against your thigh, nipping gently at the sensitive skin. "Missed making you fall apart like this." His free hand slides up your body to palm your breast, thumb circling your nipple as he finally presses his tongue against your clit.

Your back arches off the bed, one hand tangling in his salt-stiffened hair while the other grips your sheets. The shell necklace catches the light as you move, a constant reminder of your shared history. "JJ," you gasp, trying to keep your voice down despite the pleasure coursing through you.

JJ hums against you, the vibration making your thighs tremble. His tongue traces patterns around your clit as his fingers continue their steady thrusting, finding that perfect spot inside you that makes you see stars. He watches your face intently, memorizing every expression of pleasure that crosses your features.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, pulling back slightly to blow cool air against your heated flesh. "Want to see you come apart for me. Been too fucking long." His words are punctuated by another curl of his fingers, another swipe of his tongue.

Your hips buck against his face as he sucks your clit into his mouth, your breathing becoming more ragged. JJ's free hand slides down to hold your hips steady, his grip firm but gentle. "Close," you manage to gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair. "JJ, I'm so close..."

JJ doubles his efforts, his tongue moving faster as his fingers maintain their perfect rhythm. He can feel your walls beginning to flutter around his fingers and can taste how close you are. "Come for me, Y/N, Want to feel you fall apart on my tongue."

The combination of his words, his fingers, and his tongue finally pushes you over the edge. Tour back arches sharply, your thighs trembling as waves of pleasure crash over you. JJ works you through it, his movements becoming gentler as you come down from your high.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are glistening and his eyes are dark with desire. He presses soft kisses up your body as you catch your breath, paying special attention to the shell necklace that rests between your breasts. His cock presses insistently against your thigh, but he makes no move to rush things.

"Beautiful," he murmurs against your neck, nipping gently at your pulse point. "Fucking beautiful, Y/N. Missed watching you come undone like that."

Your hands slide down his back, nails dragging lightly across his skin in a way that makes him shiver. "Need you," you whisper, pulling him up for a deep kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, making you moan softly. "Please, JJ. Need you inside me."

JJ positions himself between your thighs, his cock pressing teasingly against your entrance. The fairy lights cast shadows across your sweat-slicked bodies as he captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "Need you to be sure," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire and emotion. "Tell me this is what you want, Y/N." His cock slides against your wetness, making you both gasp at the sensation. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I'm sure, JJ," you breathe, your hands sliding up his back to tangle in his hair. "Been sure since the day I left. Want you, need you, love you."

JJ groans at your words, capturing your lips again as he slowly pushes inside you. You both freeze at the sensation, overwhelmed by the feeling of being connected again after so long. "Fuck," he breathes against your neck, his arms trembling as he holds himself still. "You feel fucking perfect, baby."

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you adjust to his size, your breath coming in short gasps. The fairy lights dance across your skin as you start to move together, finding your rhythm like you’ve never spent a day apart. JJ's movements are slow, and deliberate, wanting to savor every moment.

"Missed this," he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck. "Missed you, missed us." His words are punctuated by slow, deep thrusts that make you gasp and arch beneath him. One hand slides down to grip your hip, angling you just right.

The shell necklace moves with each thrust, catching the light and drawing JJ's attention. He leans down to trace it with his tongue, following its path between your breasts. The action makes you moan softly, your walls clenching around him.

"JJ," you gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside you. "Please, need more." Your hands slide down his back, nails leaving light scratches that make him groan and thrust harder.

He continues his slow, deliberate pace, savoring every gasp and moan that escapes your lips. His hands explore your body with increasing urgency, one sliding down to grip your thigh as he adjusts the angle of his thrusts. "Fuck," he groans against your neck, nipping gently at your pulse point. "Feel so good around me, so fucking perfect." His words are punctuated by deep, measured thrusts that make your walls clench around him. The shell necklace gleams between your breasts, moving with each roll of his hips.

Your hands slide up his back, nails leaving light scratches that make him shudder. "Please, JJ," you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. "Need more, need you harder." Your voice is breathy, and desperate, making his control waver.

But JJ maintains his torturously slow pace, wanting to draw out every moment. His free hand slides between them to circle your clit, making your back arch sharply off the bed. "Not yet, baby," he murmurs, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. "Want to feel every inch of you, want to make this last."

JJ's thumb continues its maddening circles on your clit as he thrusts deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "JJ," You moan, your walls fluttering around him as you get closer to the edge. "I'm close, so close..." 

His thrusts become slightly harder, and deeper, but still maintain that measured pace that's driving you both crazy. JJ's free hand slides up to palm your breast, thumb circling your nipple as he continues to work you higher. The combination of sensations has you gasping his name, your body trembling beneath him.

JJ grins against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. "Want to try something?" he asks, his voice rough with desire. Without waiting for an answer, he suddenly rolls you over, keeping himself buried deep inside you as you end up straddling his lap.

"Fuck," You gasp at the new angle, your hands braced against his chest as you adjust. The shell necklace swings between you, catching the fairy lights as you move. JJ's hands slide up your thighs, gripping your hips as he guides you into a slow rhythm.

"That's it, baby," he groans, watching as you start to move above him. Your breasts bounce slightly with each movement, making his mouth water. "Ride my cock just like that." His hands explore your body freely from this new position, one sliding up to palm your breast while the other keeps a steady grip on your hip.

You set a torturously slow pace, rolling your hips in a way that has JJ cursing under his breath. Your walls clench around him with each movement, drawing low groans from deep in his chest. "Missed watching you like this," JJ breathes, his hands roaming your body possessively. He sits up slightly, capturing a nipple in his mouth as you continue to ride him. 

His hands guide your movements, helping you maintain that slow, deep pace that's driving you both crazy.

"JJ," You moan as he hits that perfect spot inside you. Your nails drag down his chest, leaving light scratches that make him buck up into you harder. 

JJ's control starts to slip as he watches you move above him, your head thrown back in pleasure. "Fuck, Y/N," he groans, his hands tightening on your hips. "You look so fucking good riding my cock like this."

He watches in awe as you continue to ride him, your movements becoming more confident with each roll of your hips. His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts as you move above him. "Fuck, just like that," he groans, bucking up to meet your movements. His hands grip your hips tighter, guiding you into a rhythm that has you both gasping. 

You brace your hands on his chest, using the leverage to grind down harder. Your walls clench around him with each movement, drawing curses from his lips. "JJ," you moan, your head falling back as he hits that perfect spot inside you. "So deep like this..."

JJ works faster on your clit as he continues to thrust up into you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. You gasp, and your movements become more desperate. He suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper at the loss. His chest heaves with heavy breaths as he tries to regain some control, his cock throbbing painfully between you. 

"Need to slow down," he groans against your lips, his hands sliding up your sides. "Don't want this to end yet." His fingers trace patterns on your skin as you straddle his thighs. Your hands slide down his chest, nails dragging lightly across his skin in a way that makes him shiver. "JJ," you whimper, trying to move closer. Your pussy is dripping wet, clenching around nothing as you seek friction.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," his fingers slid between your legs to tease your entrance. He watches as you gasp and arches into his touch, your walls fluttering around his fingers. "Could stay here all night, just watching you fall apart."

You rock against his hand, seeking more friction. JJ's free hand slides up to palm your breast, thumb circling your nipple as he continues to tease you with shallow thrusts of his fingers. "Please," you moan, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. "Need you back inside me, JJ. Been too long without you."

You shift in JJ's lap, deliberately grinding against his thigh. The friction makes you gasp, your wetness coating his skin as you rock your hips. His hands gripping your hips to guide your movements. "Fuck, Y/N," he groans, feeling your pussy slide against his thigh. "You're so fucking wet." His fingers dig into your flesh, leaving marks that will be visible tomorrow. 

Your hands brace against his chest for leverage as you grind harder, chasing the friction you need. The shell necklace swings between you with each movement, occasionally brushing against his heated skin. "JJ," you moan, your head falling back as pleasure builds.

JJ's free hand slides between them, thumb finding your clit as you continue to grind against him. "Please, more, need you inside me again." Your words are punctuated by the roll of your hips, your pussy sliding against his thigh with increasing urgency.

His thumb works faster on your clit as you ride his thigh, drawing you closer to release. "Come like this first," he commands roughly. You continue grinding against JJ's thigh, your movements becoming more desperate as pleasure builds. Your wetness coats his skin, making each slide of your pussy against him smoother, more intense. JJ's hands grip your hips tighter, guiding your movements as he watches you chase your release. 

"Want to feel you soak my thigh before I fuck you properly." JJ’s words, combined with the pressure on your clit and the friction against his thigh, finally push you over the edge. Your body trembles as waves of pleasure crash over you, your pussy pulsing against JJ's thigh as you come. Your wetness coats his skin, making everything slick and hot between you. 

"Fuck, that's it," His cock throbs painfully between you, demanding attention. "So fucking beautiful when you come." His thumb continues to circle your clit, drawing out your pleasure until your gasping and squirming.

Without warning, JJ flips them over, pinning you beneath him on the bed. His cock slides through your wetness, teasing your sensitive flesh. "Need to be inside you again," he groans, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "Been too fucking long without this."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Please, JJ," you whimper, still sensitive from your orgasm. Your walls clench around nothing, seeking the fullness of his cock. "Need you inside me."

JJ lines himself up with your entrance, watching your face as he slowly pushes back inside. You both groan at the sensation, your walls stretching to accommodate him again.  "Fuck, still so tight," JJ breathes, setting a slow, deep pace. His hands explore your body possessively as he thrusts into you, memorizing every curve and dip. "Feel so good."

Your hands slide up his back, nails leaving light scratches that make him shudder. Your pussy pulses around him with each thrust, drawing low groans from deep in his chest. JJ maintains his deep, steady rhythm as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force. "I’m close," you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support. "So close, JJ. Please don't stop."

His hand slides between them to circle your clit as he maintains his punishing pace. "Come for me again," he commands. His thrusts become more erratic as he feels his release approaching, his grip on your hips tightening with bruising force. The fairy lights cast dancing shadows across their sweat-slicked bodies as they move together with increasing urgency. Without warning, he suddenly pulls out, his cock throbbing painfully between you.

"Fuck," he groans, his hand wrapping around his length as he strokes himself. "Where do you want it, baby?" His eyes are dark with desire as he watches you beneath him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths.

Your hands slide up his chest, nails dragging lightly across his skin. "On me," you gasp, still trembling from your release. 

JJ's control finally snaps at your words. With a low groan, he comes hard, painting thick stripes across your stomach and breasts. The shell necklace gleams in the fairy lights, covered in drops of his release.

You collapse together on the bed, breathing heavily as you come down from your high. JJ reaches for his discarded t-shirt, gently cleaning his release from your skin. "Stay," you whisper, curling into his side. Your fingers trace patterns on his chest as your breathing slowly returns to normal. "Please stay this time."

JJ pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Not going anywhere," he murmurs against your skin. "Never again." The fairy lights continue to cast their soft glow over the room as you drift off to sleep, tangled together like they never spent a day apart.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand, the screen illuminating the dim room with a soft blue glow. He groans softly, careful not to wake you who's curled against his chest, your breathing deep and even. 

The group chat notification shows several messages from John B and Pope:

John B: yo where tf did you and y/n disappear to??? 👀

Pope: they definitely left together bro

John B: fucking FINALLY

Pope: 20 bucks says they're at her place

John B: nah man, bet they're at the chateau

JJ can't help but grin at his friends' messages, his free hand absently playing with your hair as you sleep.

His phone buzzes again:

John B: JJ we know you're reading these messages asshole

Pope: let him live, he's probably busy 😏

John B: BUSY WITH WHAT POPE??? 🤔😂

JJ rolls his eyes, typing out a quick response with one hand:

"fuck off both of you”

The response is immediate:

John B: HE LIVES!!!

Pope: told you they were together

John B: you better not fuck this up again maybank

JJ's jaw tenses at John B's last message, his arm tightening slightly around your sleeping form. The fairy lights cast soft shadows across your peaceful face as he looks down at you, remembering everything you’ve been through to get here. The shell necklace rests between you, a constant reminder of your shared past and the promise of your future but for now, in this room with its fairy lights and scattered memories, nothing exists beyond the two of you.

[vavafaure1994]

CHAPTER 4 ECHOES IN THE RUINS

pairing: jj maybank x lara croft!reader

summary: you and jj finally make it out after sharing moments of vulnerability.

warnings: claustrophobia, skeletal remains

chapters recent chapter next chapter

the stone swallowed sound.

every footstep that you and jj took down the twisting, skeletal corridor beneath the temple echoed like a ghost trying to escape. the catacombs weren’t just passageways - they were graves. walls lined with hollow eyed skulls, bones cemented into patterns like broken mosaics.

jj shivered, flashlight beam jittering. “tell me again why we’re doing this?”

“because the other exit is flooded. and I’m not drowning today,” you answered, voice low and sure.

“fair.”

you both walked in silence for a while. just the sound of boots scraping centuries of dust. your gaze darted around. every few minutes, you’d stop, kneel, brush her fingers over markings on the wall. your lips would move silently - like you were praying, or translating something only you could understand.

jj watched you from a step behind. there was something untouchable about you in this moment. not cold - just distant. like you'd mastered how to survive by building a fortress out of your own silence.

It stirred something in him.

“you always like this?” he asked quietly.

“like what?”

he shrugged, adjusting the grip on his knife. “all..sealed up.”

you paused and looked back at him. “would you rather I screamed every time I saw a skull?”

“no. just…” he blew out a breath. “you don’t ever let anything out. It’s like you’ve got this vault inside your chest. don't it feel like- heavy?”

you turned away. “It’s supposed to.”

the next room opened into a vaulted chamber, the ceiling high and veiled with hanging roots. In the center, a dry well. along the walls - carvings. not just stories this time, but faces.

dozens of them.

jj stared. “jesus.”

you moved slowly, reverently. “this was a temple to the goddess Ixchel, but corrupted after a war with a rival tribe. they desecrated it. turned worship into blood sacrifice.”

“charming,” jj muttered.

your flashlight stopped on a carving of a woman kneeling beside a burning tree.

“She was a guardian,” you said softly. “the last one.”

he watched your face - the sharp lines of it, the softness that tried not to show. “ya talk like you knew her."

“In a way, I do.”

silence stretched between you.

jj walked to the dry well and peered over the edge. “how deep you think that is?”

“too deep,”you said. “and probably cursed.”

“you say that like everything’s cursed.”

you looked at him. “because most things are.”

he gave her a crooked smile. “you’re fun at parties, huh?”

that made ya snort. a real one. quick and surprised. and jj’s chest warmed at the sound. then your expression softened, almost unconsciously. “I wasn’t always like this,” you said.

jj leaned on the edge of the well. “yeah?”

“I used to be a girl who cried when she couldn’t find her dad’s sweater,” you said. “I used to believe in 'happy' endings. that if you just fought hard enough, things would be okay.”

you sat beside the wall. “then he disappeared. and then the wreck. then Yamatai. and after that, I realized ain't no one’s coming to save you.”

jj moved to sit beside you. not too close, but close enough to feel the same cold air crawling through the crypt. “I was twelve when I realized that,” he said. you turned your head to him.

“my mom left. my dad drank until he passed out or swung a uh, fist.” he said. “people see this tan and smile and think I’m just the beach burnout. but I spent more time running from my own house than toward anything.”

you watched him quietly.

“I’m not trying to play pain olympics,” jj added. “Just..you’re not the only one with ghosts.”

“no,” you said softly. “you’re not.”

a moment passed.

then he leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

“you think it ever ends?” he asked. “all the running?”

you didn’t answer right away. your eyes drifted over the carvings - the goddess, the flames, the blind faces. “I think if we’re lucky,” you said, “we stop running and start choosing.”

jj turned to you. “and what would you choose?”

you looked at him.

your expression was different this time - raw, like a wound you wasn’t hiding anymore. “someone who stays.” he didn’t speak. just nodded.

and in that strange, dark place beneath the earth - where bones whispered old stories and air was thick with forgotten grief - they sat shoulder to shoulder, not touching but closer than they’d ever been.

not explorers.

not survivors.

just two broken people, beginning to understand each other.

YOU BOTH found a second exit three hours later - a crumbling shaft that led up into light. the climb was hard, stone slick with mildew and time, but you made it. and when you stepped out into sunlight, blinking and dirty and scraped raw, jj laughed.

you turned to him. “what?”

he just smiled, all tooth n dimples.

“sunlight,” he said. “I forgot it could feel this good.”

you squinted up at the trees. the heat wrapped around your shoulders like a cloak. “still think it’s all cursed?” he asked.

you tilted your head, ponytail swinging. “some things are worth the curse.”

taglist ! - @maybejj - @delayeddrabbles - @kittykatinc - @hotvampdragon - @bbyg4rl

[vavafaure1994]

CHAPTER 3 COLLAPSE

pairing: jj maybank x lara croft!reader

summary: you and jj explore an ancient temple and discover a hidden idol, but your ambushed by mercenaries. after a chaotic fight, you escape into underground catacombs. In the quiet that follows, you share a rare moment of vulnerability.

warnings: gunfire, violence, death, mild blood, emotional trauma.

chapters recent chapter next chapter

the jungle awakened with purpose at dawn.

vines hung like whispers, and the distant sound of cascading water guided the air like a song. jj and you moved quietly, a map etched in memory and instinct pulling them forward. you walked with calculated confidence, a machete in one hand, a faded compass in the other. jj followed close behind, trying to match your quiet intensity, though his steps were clumsy by comparison.

“do you ever slow down?” he muttered, stepping over a thick root that tried to claim his boot.

you didn’t look back. “only when I’m dead.”

jj grinned, voice filled with soft sarcasm. “right. forgot who I was dealing with.”

you’d left the camp an hour ago, heading inland toward the ruins you had marked days before finding jj washed ashore. you hadn’t expected a partner in this. you still weren't sure if he was one.

“you really trust that compass?” jj asked as you both passed an ancient stone pillar half-swallowed by moss. you glanced at it. “no. I trust the memory of the map I buried beneath my father’s journals.”

jj raised a brow. “you’re one of those ‘photographic memory’ types, huh?”

“no..I just remember what matters.”

that made him quiet.

you walked until the trees thinned and the sky opened above you. a collapsed archway came into view, swallowed in vines and shadow. symbols carved into its stone frame looked Mayan, but were wrong-warped, older, almost forgotten.

“this is it,” you murmured.

jj stepped beside you, eyes wide. damn.”

the temple sat like a wound in the jungle, half-submerged, hidden by centuries of green. time had eaten away at its bones, but it still pulsed with something ancient. something wrong.

you moved first, climbing over fallen stone and slipping inside through a crumbled passageway. jj followed, one hand on his knife, the other brushing the cool stone of the entry wall.

inside, it was damp and dark. you flicked on your flashlight and whispered. “stay close, m'kay?.”

jj did - closer than he needed to, speaking like he would on a random tuesday. “why do I feel like I just stepped into - like a horror movie? i'm getting the heebie jeebies”

“because if you trip the wrong pressure plate, your rib cage might become part of the decor,” you said without missing a beat, still walking infront.

jj paused mid step, blinking. “noted.”

you descended a narrow staircase where walls bled with carved murals - depictions of a goddess with two faces, one of beauty, the other of war. blood offerings, treasure, betrayal. at the bottom, a large stone door waited, marked with deep clawed gouges.

“whatever was behind this,” you whispered, “someone wanted to keep it there.”

“and we’re opening it?” jj asked, eyebrows raising.

you just looked at him.

he exhaled. “right. of course we are.”

you studied the mechanism, pressing your fingers to the grooves and carefully sliding three ancient levers. the stone groaned. the door cracked open, dust billowing out like breath from a crypt.

jj coughed, waving his hand a little. “smells like old death.”

“that’s because it is old death.”

you both stepped through. the chamber inside was massive, domed and echoing, pillars fractured and worn down by time. at the center stood a dais, and atop it - a golden idol, shaped like the goddess in the mural. her two faces gleamed in the flashlight’s glow; mercy and vengeance.

you approached slowly.

“don’t touch it yet,” jj said behind you.

you turned slightly, flashlight still in hand. “why not?”

he shrugged. “I’ve seen Indiana jones. this is the part where arrows fly out and someone dies screaming.”

you cracked a smile, a half amused scoff leaving your throat. “you surprise me, maybank.”

“good. that’s what I’m going for.”

but something was off.

the moment you stepped onto the dais, the room shifted - the floor humming with pressure, ancient gears grinding to life. jj tensed.

and then-

clack.

“move!” you shouted.

a wall opened behind them. armed men poured in - mercenaries. silent, ruthless, and covered in dust and black scarves.

jj pulled his knife. you drew your pistol.

shots rang out.

chaos exploded in an instant - stone cracking, bullets sparking off columns, dust choking the air. you rolled off the dais and kicked a merc square in the gut, grabbing his rifle. jj ducked behind a fallen beam, took a wild swing at someone who came too close, and managed to land a hit.

“behind you!” you screamed.

jj turned just in time to see a man raise a machete. he blocked it with the rifle he’d stolen moments before, but it knocked him back, cracking his head against the stone.

the world spun.

then - you. over him. gun drawn. two clean shots.

the merc dropped.

jj coughed. “thanks for that.”

you eyes were hard. “don’t make me do that again.”

you helped him up, and you both ran - deeper into the temple. you collapsed in a tunnel far below the main chamber, panting and bruised, the sounds of pursuit echoing behind them.

“who are they?” jj wheezed, still half coughing.

“gravediggers. freelancers. the kind who sell relics to the highest bidder, no questions asked.”

“great,” jj muttered. “so we’re on storage wars: jungle edition.”

you leaned against the wall, catching your breath. “they must’ve tracked my signal. i knew someone might come eventually, but not this soon.”

jj looked at you - really looked at you.

“ya do this all the time?” he asked. “risk your life? get shot at? crawl through fuckin' cursed holes in the ground?”

you didn’t answer. just stared into the dark.

“I used to fight to survive,” you said finally. “but then I realized surviving wasn’t enough. I needed meaning. a real reason to crawl back out.” jj sat down across from you, his bruises blooming under torn clothes.

“and you think that idol’s it?"

you hesitated. “maybe. or maybe it’s just the excuse I use to feel like I’m not broken beyond repair.”

jj swallowed hard.

“I know what that feels like.”

your eyes met.

the quiet between you wasn’t awkward anymore. It was shared. earned.

you stood. “we’re close to another exit. but it goes through the catacombs beneath the temple.”

jj pushed himself up. “great. that sounds even more cursed.”

you cracked the smallest grin. “probably is.” he smiled back. and for the first time, as you both stepped into the dark together, it wasn’t just about surviving, It was about something more.

taglist ! - @maybejj - @delayeddrabbles - @kittykatinc - @hotvampdragon -@bbyg4rl - @freyawhitexxx1 -

[vavafaure1994]

CHAPTER 2 STONE HEARTS

pairing: jj maybank x lara croft!reader

summary: stranded together, you and jj begin to peel back your emotions beside a jungle campfire. through quiet confessions and sharp banter, you both begin to trust each other and In the darkness of the island, you realize you may have more in common than they ever expected.

warnings: references to childhood abuse and domestic violence, implied parental neglect and emotional trauma, brief mentions of wounds and blood.

chapters. recent chapter next chapter

night didn't fall gently on the island - it dropped like a shroud.

the fire snapped in the breeze, smoke curling upward like spirits released from the day. crickets chirped like clockwork, a low, steady song that filled the silence between two people who had never meant to find each other.

jj lay on his back, arm folded beneath his head, eyes tracing the stars above the canopy. he was shirtless now, his soaked flannel discarded and drying over a crate. his shoulder was still sore, and the scrape across his ribs burned every time he moved. but he didn’t complain.

not once.

you sat a few feet away, legs crossed, a weathered leather journal open in your lap. you hadn't written anything in it for a while - just stared at the blank page like it owed you answers.

jj turned his head slightly. “so…you always this chatty, or is it just me that makes you want to eat your own words?”

you didn’t look up. “I find silence underrated.”

“yeah?” jj chuckled softly. “where I’m from, silence means trouble. means someone’s bout' to get hit, or someone’s already been hurt.”

that made you pause. you glanced over at him, eyes catching firelight. “where are you from?”

jj shrugged. “outer banks. north Carolina. we’ve got more sand than stability. and bout' as much money as trust.”

you closed the journal slowly.

“your wounds,” you said after a moment, voice softening. “they didn’t all come from the wreck.”

jj was quiet for a long time. the fire crackled between you two.

“no,” he said finally. “some of them came long before that. some of ‘em still bleed, you just can’t see it.”

your eyes lingered on his face. for all his swagger and crooked charm, he looked too young to be so haunted. And yet so familiar. “you said you were looking for a relic,” you said, shifting the subject only slightly. “what exactly do you think you’re going to find?”

jj sat up, brushing his fingers through the dirt. “closure,” he said with a crooked smile. “money. answers. I don’t know - take your pick. i just know I can’t go back to my old life empty-handed.”

you studied him. “you think a treasure will fix what’s broken?”

he met your gaze, and for once, there was no joke on the tip of his tongue. “no. but it might make the bleeding feel worth it.”

silence. but now it pulsed with understanding.

you closed her journal fully and continued speaking. “my father was obsessed with relics,” you said quietly. “he thought if he could uncover enough truth, it would somehow bring back what he lost. his work cost him everything - his name, his sanity, his life.”

jj didn’t speak. just listened, which felt new to you - most people couldn’t stand the weight of your words. “I hated him for a long time,” you continued. “for choosing history over me. for leaving me to piece together the ruins he left behind. but sometimes I wonder if I’ve become just like him.”

jj leaned forward, voice gentler now. “you think chasing ghosts makes you like him?”

“I think chasing ghosts is the only thing that keeps me from becoming one,” you admitted.

your eyes met and neither looked away.

jj reached for a stick and poked at the fire, breaking the heaviness with his usual tilt of a grin. “damn. that was poetic. I should write that down. get it tattooed.”

you smirked - just barely. “you’d need a lot of skin for all the 'poetry' in my head.”

jj chuckled, then winced as his ribs pulled. your smirk faded as you noticed. “lie back,” you said, standing. “lemme take a look.” jj raised a brow. “you sweet-talkin’ me, croft?”

"eh, you wish."

you knelt beside him and pulled back the bandage you’d haphazardly wrapped earlier. your touch was brisk but careful, fingers calloused but steady. jj sucked in a breath.

“you always patch up boys you find on beaches?” he asked, only half teasing.

“only the ones that dont fuckin' whine when they’re in pain,” you replied dryly.

jj laughed, then hissed again. you poured a bit of antiseptic on a rag and dabbed at the scrape. “You’ve got a high pain tolerance,” you noted.

“had to,” he said, staring at the canopy, then whispered. “when your old man teaches you that flinching just makes it worse, you learn to stop reacting.”

the words slipped out way too fast and you stilled.

jj closed his eyes. “sorry. that was…too much.”

you didn’t respond right away. continuing the work on his scars you spoke softly. “no. It wasn’t.” you finished wrapping him in silence, fingers moving with practiced grace. when you were done, you sat back, looking at him not as a threat or a liability - but as someone who had made it out of the wreckage. not just of the sea.

but of life.

LATER, JJ lay in the dim glow of the fire while you sat nearby cleaning your gun. the jungle whispered around you two. somewhere in the distance, a bird let out a low, mournful cry.

jj turned his head toward you and spoke. “hey, croft?”

you glanced at him.

“you ever..think about stopping? like, for good? just laying it all down?”

you paused, fingers frozen over the disassembled slide.

“every day,” you said, almost too quiet for jj to clearly hear. “and then I remember all the people who didn’t get the chance.”

jj nodded. “yeah.”

he let the silence stretch.

then he repeated. “croft?”

“yes?”

“I’m glad ya found me.”

you looked over at him - truly looked - and this time, your voice wasn't hesitant or a whisper. “me too.”

taglist ! - @maybejj - @delayeddrabbles - @kittykatinc - @hotvampdragon -

[vavafaure1994]

CHAPTER 1 CASTAWAY CROSSROADS

pairing: jj maybank x lara croft!reader

summary: jj washes ashore on a remote island, bruised and bleeding, only to be held at gunpoint by well...you. after convincing you he’s not a threat. despite your differences, a reluctant connection forms- both scarred, both stubborn, both hiding pain behind sharp tongues.

warnings: not much for this one! just mentions of blood and injury.

a/n: started writing this at 3AM last night so thats why it was so quick lol

chapters. next chapter

the waves didn't ask permission.

they just took.

they took JJ’s board. took his radio. took the sleek little skiff he and pope patched together with scrap and wishful thinking. they even tried to take his breath as he clawed his way out of the capsized boat’s reach and into the shore.

his shoulder screamed as he pulled himself across wet sand, coughing up seawater and ego. blood mixed with salt on his temple, seeping down through strands of hair, but he laughed - a breathy, dazed laugh that carried into the wind like a dare.

“hell of a welcoming committee,” he muttered, voice hoarse, eyes blinking against the sun stabbing through jungle-green canopy above.

and then he heard it.

the unmistakable click of a safety being flipped off.

“stay where you are.”

a woman’s voice - low, precise, crisp. not the flirtatious type either. the kind that had seen literal war. jj's first instinct was to crack a grin and spit out some smartass line. his second was to look up, very slowly.

boots. dirt-stained, heavy-duty. cargo pants, a holster strapped tight to a thigh. tank top. arms that looked like they’d held up the world and refused to let it fall. and the face?

goddamn.

you were young - maybe his age, maybe a little older - but there was something ancient in your expression. like her soul had walked through fire and never bothered to take off the soot.

and the pistol aimed at his head? rock steady.

jj, bleeding and battered, still gave you a lazy, blood stained grin. “well damn, sweetheart. If I’d known angels packed heat, I woulda drowned a long time ago.”

your eyes narrowed and you didn’t lower the gun. “you have ten seconds to tell me who you are and why you’re on this island before I assume you're with Trinity.”

jj blinked, eyebrows furrowing. “trinity? I - what? I don’t - look, I’m not with anyone, alright? I’m just a guy who made a few wrong turns on the way to the world’s worst spring break.”

you didn’t laugh, grip didn’t falter.

jj sighed, slowly raising his hands. “name’s jj. jj maybank. I’m here lookin’ for a thing. an old thing. relic-y, treasure-y. heard rumors from a guy who probably lied, but hey, that’s my specialty. no weapons on me. unless you count charm.”

silence.

then you finally, finally lowered the gun. not fully. just enough to let him breathe.

“you’re an idiot with a big ego, i assume.” you said flatly.

“yeah,” jj said, grinning through the blood in his teeth. “but I’m a charming one.”

you had met your fair share of reckless men. war criminals. mercenaries. treasure hunters with too much testosterone and too little brain. but there was something different about this one.

maybe it was the way he bled and smiled at the same time or maybe it was the fact that when you helped him to his feet, he leaned on you without hesitation, without shame. “where’s your team?” you asked.

jj winced. “guess we both got stood up.”

you wanted to leave him. you really did. he was loud, he was injured, he was clearly a liability. but something in his eyes - blue, defiant, young - caught your off guard. It reminded you of someone you'd lost. and maybe the version of yourself you used to be. before fire. before loss.

“i have a camp,” you said. “quarter mile that way. can ya walk?"

jj grit his teeth, tilting his head. “If..you hold my hand.”

you rolled your eyes and started walking. “try to keep up, pogue.”

jj’s head whipped toward you, eyes widening. “how the hell do you know that word?”

you didn’t answer.

THE CAMP was nothing fancy - just a tarp, a smoldering fire pit, a few crates stacked with supplies and a solar charged radio. but jj slumped onto the dirt like it was a five star resort, groaning as he stretched out his leg.

you crouched beside him and started cleaning the cut on his head with practiced hands. “not your first time playing doctor, huh?”

“I’ve stitched up worse,” you said. “on myself.”

jj watched you. up close, you weren't just pretty - you were something else. your face was cut with intensity, shadowed by something old and painful, but there was warmth under there. somewhere.

“you got a name?”

you hesitated.

“…y/n.”

“y/n,” he repeated, like tasting something sharp. “y/n croft.”

your gaze flicked toward him, surprised. “you’ve heard of me?”

“nah,” he said with a smirk. “but you’ve got the vibe of someone people write books about. ya one of those 'tomb raider' types?” you tilted your head. “somethin' like that.”

as night fell over the island, the jungle pulsed with the sounds of insects and distant thunder. you sharpened your machete by firelight while jj fiddled with a compass he’d half-broken in the wreck.

there was silence. not awkward - just heavy.

“you always out here alone?” jj asked finally.

you didn’t look up. “people die around me.”

jj flinched a little at that. then nodded while keeping his eyes on the compass.

“yeah. I know the feeling.” your eyes met - briefly. it didn’t need to be said aloud. you were both running from ghosts. or maybe toward them.

“tomorrow,” you said, sliding the blade back into its sheath. “if you’re up for it, we search the northern ruins. you can tag along - so long as you don’t slow me down.” jj leaned back on his elbows. “sunshine, I’m many things. but I ain’t slow.”

you almost smiled.

almost.

taglist ! - @maybejj - @delayeddrabbles - @kittykatinc - @hotvampdragon -