#*am so beaches n summer has been on my mind

[ghoul--doodle]

Something something beach episode Fènghuáng

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 1/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

If you're ready, all I mean is we could go, I've never craved someone's attention as much as yours.

General Warnings: an almost unbearable amount of sarcasm and snark, even more idiotic shenanigans, many affectionate empty threats of murder/violence, fluff, mentions of golf 🤢, cursing and I'm pretty sure that's it for this half

A/N: in line with the general consensus lmao this has been split, part two will be posted as soon as it's finished (lol) but it's best read as one whole fic, it isn't a multi-part situation really!! it was originally supposed to be my submission for the eras tour fic challenge (hence the graphic I'm too attached to to change) but took a different direction to the song I was given, and I missed the deadline, and I pretty much listened to the secret of us exclusively while writing this whole thing. also dropping an overwhelmingly summery fic in december might actually be my brand. keep your eyes peeled for a christmas fic in july.

very special shoutout to shea @sleepretreat I made a random comment one day that luke gives seth cohen energy, and she fanned that flame like a full time job. ily shea!! I hope this lives up to any expectations and I owe a lot to your instigating!!

AS ALWAYS!!! never proofread!! I'll probably get around to it when the thought of a spelling mistake keeps me awake at night. and also!! please let me know what you think I am like a teeny tiny little plant that can only thrive under the constant shower of validation and you don't want me to wither and die do you? (I’m kidding) (I’m not)

You kind of, sort of, think you might hate summer.

You haven’t always felt this way, though. Growing up, it had always been your favourite time of the year. 

No school? Check.

Going on vacation, sometimes multiple, all expenses covered by your parents? Double check.

Getting to do all the cool things you don’t have time for in the school year with all your friends? Concerts, festivals, beach days, bonfires on the evenings. Check, check and check again.

But 4 years ago, your whole world as you knew it was torn apart, and summers have never been the same, since.

A season that was once filled with light and companionship, never ending plans and joviality, became darker - isolated, getting yourself out of the house even if everyone else was busy, driving just to drive and making the best of your own company. 

School ended up becoming your escape, especially since you had started college - your studies and the chaos of Greek life distracting you from the calamitous state of your home life, making new friends that became like family and sticking to them like glue, where possible, clingy and possessive to the point of ruin, almost - and so the lack of it in the summers now actually sends you into some sort of warped spiral.

It’s manageable in the winter and spring, the breaks no longer than a few weeks at a time, but going home for summer is somewhat of a nightmare.

It’s hard to go back, hard to ignore the mess your mind has become when it’s just you and your mother - or, you, your mother and whatever bottle of pinot she’s 3 glasses deep into at any given time of the day - and you’re sat in a house that’s a cold reminder of the warmth that once filled it. 

But when Ellie - your best friend since moving to college, the girl who took the sister part of sorority sister to the next level at all possible opportunities over the years - found out you’d put your name down to be the caretaker for your sorority house instead of going home, she had put her foot down on your summertime sadness session.

Which is how you end up moving into her family home - spending the first few weeks integrating yourself into their routine while trying to grip desperately onto some form of your own - trying not to get too used to the feeling of such a big family when you know it won’t be forever.

You braid her little sister’s hair everyday, kick a soccer ball around with her little brother when he needs someone to stand in goal, wash the dishes with her mom, talk sports with her dad, and before long, you blend like a chameleon into their dynamic.

You pick up a summer job at the country club to cling back onto your independence. Your commute provides the solitude and quiet you‘ve grown accustomed to in the years before, a bus journey through town with headphones on, watching the scenery and admiring the greenery until you get to work, donning your navy blue polo and tucking your little notepad into your hip apron as you serve tables at the clubhouse restaurant and bar. 

It’s a much needed escape from Ellie, if you’re honest.

You love that girl with all your heart, appreciate her housing you more than you’ll ever be able to say, but if you have to hear her sit and mope about how hopelessly in love she is with Jack Hughes for even a second longer, you’re going to vomit. Or scream. Or both.

Jack and Ellie grew up together - their families close, Ellie’s dad best friends with Jack’s uncle, or something - and she’s been into him since he had teeth missing - a point she loves to hammer home when it comes to you always listing that as one of his (many, if it’s up to you) cons. Considering his job, and the fact he already lost one, not too long ago, a toothless boyfriend seems like a massive ick, if you’re honest. 

But Ellie is beyond reason when it comes to him. She worships the ground he walks on - talks about him non-stop, messages him every day, regales you with stories you, awfully, but realistically, couldn’t care less about - and it’s the only real problem about living with her.

Even beyond the summer, you two had shared a room your first two years in college, still live in the same house - and it’s a year round problem.

But being unable to escape, having your days tied to close to hers, and knowing that it’s bound to be worse with proximity, Jack back in Michigan for the summer, himself, she’s starting to drive you up the wall.

It wouldn’t bother you if you had never met Jack, but the two of you don’t exactly get along. He’s rude, and self-absorbed, and had looked down on you the first time he ever laid eyes on you, and you really shouldn’t let it get to you, but you do - the thought that your best friend is in love with an asshole, and that she won’t let you hear the end of it. 

Won’t stop whining about how he’ll never feel the same, or that she can’t handle another summer of biting her tongue, of being around him, feeling the way she does, and not being able to do anything about it.

She deserves better. 

Ellie has a heart of gold, and she deserves someone who handles it with care. If Jack Hughes doesn’t like her back, that’s his loss - but you’re kind of getting sick of telling her that.

Getting through a whole summer of it is going to be hard, you think, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than being entirely alone. So you put on a brave face, use work as your escape in the same way you usually do with school, and avoid blowing your top for as long as you can, suffering through the late nights and heart to hearts where Jack is the sole topic of discussion, and bask in the good stuff.

In the chaos of her siblings, in the closeness of her family, and the way they’ve welcomed you with open arms.

This summer could be okay, you’ve just got to give it a chance. 

Luke Hughes loves summer.

He loves being back home in Michigan, spending his days out on the lake, or making the trip out to parade around Ann Arbor, catching up with all his college buddies, making the rounds at all the UMich sporting events he now gets a VIP pass to thanks to his last name.

The routine of it all is familiar, and warming, and it restores a sense of normality that playing in the NHL for the past year has so brutally ripped from him, already. 

He had enjoyed starting his summer overseas - making the team for the world championships and competing beyond the abysmal end to his rookie season - had enjoyed the time away from his brothers, if he’s honest. Quinn and the Canucks making it a few rounds into the playoffs, and Jack back home recovering from getting surgery on his shoulder - and it’s the latter he needed the reprieve from.

He does love living with his brother.

Jack looks after him in ways he’ll never really be able to make it up to him for. He always has, Quinn has too, but ever since Luke got drafted to the Devils, Jack has helped him adjust to the chaos of his career without much fuss or hardship.

And he really is grateful for that.

But, God, can he be annoying.

Especially when it comes to his infatuation with his best friend, Ellie.

Jack and Ellie have always been close - despite the fact she’s Luke’s age - and grew up thick as thieves, spending summers together, especially when the family moved to Michigan, and Ellie’s family were just on the other side of town. 

He’s always been obsessed with her, even if it hasn’t always been love - but these last few years have been different. Like a switch flipped in his head when Jack saw what Ellie was like when he came to visit Luke in his freshman year of college.

A version of Ellie that was no longer just his - no longer exclusive to their summer bubble, and lived in a world beyond lounging by the lake and hanging out with the Hughes family.

A version of Ellie who liked partying, liked schmoozing and charming everybody she came into contact with, liked being the centre of everyone else’s attention, not just Jack’s.

And it’s that version of Ellie that has driven Luke’s brother crazy, which has, in turn, started to drive Luke crazy. He talks about her non-stop, and it was those much needed weeks away in Czechia that almost had Luke forgetting just how stupid his brother has gotten about the whole thing.

Until he came home to Michigan, and Jack, in all the commotion with his shoulder, with ending his season early and starting his summer off alone, has worked himself into such a stupor about the whole thing that merely a week into his return, he has driven Luke up the wall. 

He’s grumpy, all the time - which leads to him being snarky, all the time. He huffs and puffs around the house so much Luke is starting to think he might need an inhaler, and he really can’t take any more.

Not when he’s making such a show of his irritation, stomping around with heavy feet and slamming doors that don’t need to be shut in the first place. 

“What crawled up your ass and died there?” Luke frowns as he follows Jack into the kitchen upon his return from therapy, holding out for the doors he swings open with a little too much vigour so that they don’t swing back into his brother’s slinged-shoulder. “I thought the physio is going alright?”

“It is,” Jack huffs, storming over to the fridge and yanking it open, the jars and bottles in the door clanking together in a way that makes Luke cringe. “I’m fine.”

“Tell that to all the hinges you’re testing the limits of.” 

“Don’t start with me, Luke, I’m not in the mood.”

“You just said you’re fine.” Luke rolls his eyes as he starts to scroll through his group chat with his friends from college, trying to check who said they might be free today to get him out of this vicious circle.

“It’s nothing.”

“Clearly not.” It’s interactions like this that confirm to Luke just how annoying Jack has become - because what reason does he have to be so evasive? Luke is handing him the opportunity to air out his grievances on a silver platter, and he’s rather slam cupboards and create creases in his forehead from frowning 24/7.

“Fine, it’s Ellie.”

Luke wishes he never bothered asking, although he has been wondering why he’s been seeing way less of her already this summer. He had figured Ellie was away with family until he saw her at the gas station the other night - had watched from the car as Jack had what seemed like a heated conversation by the entrance. 

“She’s refusing to hang out with me.”

“Has she said why?” Luke asks, although he doesn’t really care. He’s just asking to get it out of the way in the hopes that Jack talking about it might lighten the load, might make his own life a little easier. 

It’s the bitter muttering of your name that captures Luke’s full attention, his neck audibly cracking at the speed in which his head shoots up, no longer caring what could possibly be going on with the boys in the group chat. 

“She isn’t going back to whatever fiery hell pit it is that she comes from for the summer, and she’s staying with Ellie’s family, therefore Ellie isn’t staying with us.”

Luke hasn’t heard your name in a while. Not since he left college last year, not since he got caught up in the whirlwind life in the NHL, when a schoolboy crush on a girl he interacted with once in his entire college career became the least of his worries.

But one utterance of it has his spine straightening, just like it would have done just over a year ago.

You’re in Michigan. You’re at Ellie’s, on the other side of town. You’re barely two degrees of separation from him.

“Why can’t Ellie bring her here?” Luke asks, throat dry and voice breaking so subtly that he hopes Jack doesn’t notice. That could be fun. Would make up for the hell his brother has been putting him through since he got here. 

Maybe a little glorious sunshine might finally get you to notice his existence. He wouldn’t mind third wheeling Jack and Ellie if you were there, too. It would give him the perfect opportunity to prove he’s worthy of your attention - too shy and too scared to do so, back in college, but he’s different, now. Confident, almost. More sure of himself.

“She hates me.” Jack huffs, “Last time we met she was giving me the stink eye all night.”

And of course it would be his brother to ruin his plans, yet again. You’ll probably hate him, too - a hatred so strong for Jack that it seeps through his entire bloodline, because Luke of all people knows he can be annoying like that. 

“Trust me, she probably doesn’t care enough to hate you,” Luke scoffs, not realising the spool of information he’s just given Jack to unravel. 

“You know her?”

“We had a class together. I know of her.”

Not the truth, but not exactly a lie.

Luke knows a lot about you. It’s borderline creepy, the observations he can still remember, even after so long.

He knows you like only like coffee if it’s iced, had seen you with too many clear plastic cups to count, had watched plump lips chewing at straws by the time you had finished the drink. He had even, one time, tried to zoom in on a picture of your order printed on the side in one of his many states of delusion where he had been trying to build himself up to ask you out. 

He knows you can hold your own in an argument, had watched you debate with the best of them in your business comms class, has watched you shoot down most guys that approach you with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, and has watched you take down a frat guy or two, usually in defence of your sorority sisters - who Luke noticed you’re the most protective of. 

He knows you match your perfume to the colour of your outfit, had notice you smelled citrusy like lemons in yellow, floral like roses in pink, sweet like candy in purple, and clean like fresh cotton in blue. 

He knows the pieces of hair that frame your face curl when wet from the rain. Knows you used to volunteer at the pool on the weekends it was open to the kids of the community, would teach them how to swim. He knows you listen to Taylor Swift and has heard you humming just about every song of hers he knows.

But he doesn’t really know you - not on the level Jack is assuming, when his eyes widen and hope flashes across his crystal irises.

“You know how I’m your favourite brother?”

“No,”

“And I let you live with me all year?”

“My name’s on the lease.”

“Maybe you could talk to her for me?”

Luke sighs, shoulders heavy and eyes rolling practically to the back of his head. “I already told you, I don’t really know her like that.” 

“C’mon, you could at least try! I’m dying here, Luke! She’s hogging all of Ellie’s time, and she won’t give me the time of day if I try!”

If only Jack knew how much time you’d ever given Luke, he wouldn’t be asking him such an absurd request.

You’re so out of his league, it isn’t even funny. He probably couldn’t convince you to light a candle in a power cut, much less to give his annoying brother a shot to prove himself.

“You’re wasting your time, Jack,” Luke responds, “I’m gonna meet Dylan at the club. No, you can’t come.”

And by the time Luke makes it out to his car, he’s relieved to have ditched that conversation, entirely. He knows what’s waiting when he gets home, what his brother is going to be like for the next few months to come, but a temporary relief is all he needs.

He had already been planning on getting a few late morning holes in at the club, and meeting up with Dylan had been a white lie, needing some alone time away from Jack’s incessant whining to think about how he was going to survive the summer - and seeing you on your break, perched on the edge of the fountain in the courtyard by the clubhouse bar, basking in the sun and talking with your co-worker, he feels like he might have just struck gold.

Since when do you work here?

He supposes since you decided to spend your summer with Ellie’s family - it only makes sense. Ellie doesn’t live too far from the club - not as close as the lake house, but closer than Ann Arbor, at least. She’d worked in the club shop last summer, even when Jack insisted he’d pay for whatever she needed while she was staying with them - had said it was nice to pass the time with something else while they all went off doing whatever - and he assumes you’re doing the same. 

It’s the first time he’s seen you in a while, outside of coming across your pictures on his Instagram feed occasionally, or the flash of your figure in Ellie’s stories. 

He had thought that, after the year he’s had, he’d be over schoolboy crushes like this - would be over the way his breath catches just at the sight of you, over the way the hairs on the back of his neck prick up and stand to attention, over the way his throat goes dry as he watches your eyes crinkle from afar, watches your lips curve up into a heart-stopping grin.

But it’s like he’s picked up straight from where he left off at the end of his college career, pining after you from afar with hearts in his eyes and feet that start to shuffle at just the thought of approaching you.

If he’s going to do this, though, he needs to be clever about it, he thinks.

Approaching you on your break, limited to the amount of time he can use to put his point across, wasting yours, doesn’t seem like something that will work.

Which is how he finds himself bypassing you completely and walking straight into the bar, offering a friendly nod to the guy stood at the front of house, and letting him point him toward the right section to be served in. 

It isn’t long before you’re in front of him, sidling up to his booth, and he had almost forgotten how pretty you are up close. Hair clipped up with loose strands framing your face, chewing at your plump bottom lip as you scribble on your notepad to get your pen to work. And your honeyed voice settling deep in the pit of his stomach, warmth spreading throughout as you introduce yourself, like he has no clue who you are, and tell him you’ll be his server, “What can I get for you?”

“Five minutes of your time?”

The Luke that spent his college years obsessing over you might have stuttered - his voice might have broke, squeaked or choked in your presence - but while his throat does feel a little dry, he’s able to maintain his cool now, even when you look up from your scribblings to meet his eye. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he has matured.

His heart might jump in his chest, his mouth might tingle, his spine might stiffen, but he holds your gaze, hoping if you see a reflection of confidence that you might give him the time of day.

He’s seen you interact with guys before, has familiarised himself with the ten-foot walls you have in place, has seen others fold and try find a long way around, but he thinks that maybe matching your energy is the way to break through. 

Who doesn’t love a shortcut?

Your eyes narrow back at him as pouted lips form around a response, looking him up and down before tilting your head, and coming back with, “I all of a sudden feel the need to inform you we do have security here,” you point the tip of your pen to the entrance, where he was greeted on the way in. “I meant a drink.”

“Water’s fine,” his gaze flickers to the movement of your wrist as you click the other side of your pen, not even writing it down. “Maybe with a side of conversation?”

“I’ll go get your water,” you offer a smile, and the insincerity of it does little to cool his bravado, even if you head off with mutterings of why do I always get the creeps?

He watches you as you make your way over to the bar, not creep-like whatsoever, and he channels the nerves that sneak up on him, now that you’re distanced, through fiddling with his fingers on the table, pinching at the tips of them when you glance back over your shoulder, probably telling the girl behind the bar just how lucky you were to once again get the weirdo in your section.

It surprises him how little he cares, possessing more of your attention now than he ever has before, and if he could tell the Luke from two years ago, who spent every shared Principles of Marketing class ritualistically watching you chew on the end of your pen, that he’d be able to make eye contact without dribbling and breaking out into full body sweats, he’d have lost his mind.

He embodies a strange level of dislocated arrogance that manifests itself in his body language, sinking into the booth with arms outstretched across the back, a dangerous smirk teasing the corner of his mouth when you return, placing a pitcher of water down on the table and a glass with ice. 

“I’m Luke,” he tells you, placing a hand on his chest and doing his best to ignore the thudding he feels beneath it. “Hughes. Jack’s brother,” and when you look back over to him with a raised brow, he adds, “Ellie’s Jack.”

“And who’s Ellie?” You ask with a tilt of your head, your voice dripping in teasing sarcasm. 

“Funny,” he quips, biting back the urge to call you what he actually means. He can hardly call you cute, you’d probably pour that water straight over him. “I went to UMich, we had a couple classes together.”

Your eyes narrow again, and he knows it’s an intimidation tactic, a way to make him feel smaller than he’s acting, shrinking him down to a version of himself you can stamp your authority on, but he finds himself being resilient for once, carrying on like he isn’t affected.

He is. Massively, in fact. Just not in the way you probably want. Your indifference drives him in a way that presses into his spine, an inner voice pleading, notice me, I’m breaking through!

“Bauman’s class, Business Comms, you sat in the second row, I sat in the third, you dropped your pencil one time and I-,”

“I know who you are.”

So he’s been yapping on at you for no reason? Fantastic.

He can’t let his momentum slip, though, so he forces the corners of his lips into a victorious smile, and counters, “So you know I’m not a creep.”

“You literally memorised my seat in a class from 2 years ago, so…” 

“I have a good memory,” he’s quick to defend, fighting the urge to let his eyes linger on your pouted lips.

“Right,” you roll your eyes, “What is it you want, again?”

“I came to talk about Jack and Ellie.” He nods to the other side of the booth, and has to roll his shoulders so that his chest doesn’t inflate with misplaced hubris when you shuffle into the seat with a huff, discarding your notepad to the side as you level him with another raised brow.

“What about ‘em?”

“About how they’re hopelessly in love with each other and doing nothing about it.”

“You got hopeless right. What’s that got to do with us?”

Us. Oh, he likes that.

“I’m thinking they need a little shove in the right direction. And maybe we could be the shovers.”

You presses your lips together in faux-apology, a lopsided, patronising, adorable frown taking over your expression. “No can do, I don’t shove, I’m a pacifist.”

“A nudge, then?”

He isn’t giving up easy, no matter how much sarcasm you try to throw his way. You wouldn’t have sat down if there wasn’t something about this situation that irks you, too.

If Ellie is being only half as annoying as Jack is, he knows that you’re having a bad time of it. And you’re supposed to spending her summer with her - it can’t be easy, having your friend constantly pining over someone and refusing to do anything about it, if anything, making it your problem.

“Are you here to eat or annoy me?”

“Both,” he smiles, “I just figured a problem shared is a problem solved, and all.”

“How profound.” 

“C’mon, you sat down, you at least agree they’re into each other, and I know you’re staying with her this year, so I know you’ve been getting the same grief I have.”

“I’ve been on my feet 4 hours, I wouldn’t look too deep into me sitting down.” 

“Jack’s been moping around about her for years, I can’t listen to it anymore, he’s all, she’ll never like me back, this, and, I’ll never find a girl like her, that,” he whines, imitating his brother’s voice in the most annoying, high pitched tone he can muster, “I can’t take one more breakdown of her snap stories, especially not if it’s all summer if she’s not gonna be staying over, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“How supportive,” the sarcasm in your bite does little to hide the beginnings of your smile, your glare softening into what he hopes is the start of some sort of bond, a shared feeling of exasperation. Finding your footfall in common grounds.

“It’s relentless, we can’t go a single conversation anymore without him bringing her up,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, finally giving in to all the ways this is starting to grate on him. “I don’t get why neither of them do anything.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, too, relenting a little. “She talks about him so much it kind of makes me nauseous.”

“How supportive,” he mimics, nerve endings set alight when your eyes meet his over the table, and narrow in a different way, almost appreciative, almost respectable.

“Can it, Hughes,” you scoff, “Me even entertaining this conversation right now is support enough, I’ve had it in my ear for months about how she doesn’t know how she’ll make it through another summer.”

“That’s what I’m saying. If we can get them together this summer, then we’re both better off. No more whining or crying or earaches for either of us.”

“I’d hope you didn’t make your way out here with the mere promise of no more earaches, Luke.” He tries not to preen at the way you say his name. “What’s in it for me?”

“You and Ellie can stay at our lake house.” He suggests, straightening up before he leans onto the table, elbows extending so that he can rest on them, “It’s closer to the club than her family’s place, it’s gotta be better than having her siblings running around you all the time, I can even drive you to work when I’m free, if you want?”

You blink at him slowly, as if to say, and? “So I can stay at your glorified frat house, and you can be my chauffeur?” You ask with an unimpressed raise of your brow, before letting out a humourless scoff of, “What more could a girl want to do with her summer?

“What do you want?” He asks, leaning further forward.

“To go back to work and not worry about strange guys propositioning me, funnily enough.”

Luke laughs, a deep, breathy laugh that rises from the depths of his chest and comes alive in an almost-bark, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker to his mouth when it comes out.

This is fun. 

There’s no way he’s letting you leave this table without agreeing - just the thought of one more singular interaction keeping him on his toes.

“Why don’t we make it interesting, then?”

“It’s about time you tried.” The quiver of your lip tells him everything he needs to know - and that’s without the entertained glint in your eye that accompanies it. You’re enjoying this, just as much.

“We could make a competition out of it.”

“A competition?” You ask, with a curious tilt of your head.

There it is, he thinks. Interest: piqued. He practically has you in the palm of his hand. Who would ever have thought, the way to a sorority girl’s heart would be a friendly little wager?

“Whoever actually gets them together, wins.”

It’s all he can think of in the moment - petulant and part-planned, but it seems to be enough.

“Wins what?” You lean onto your elbows, your gaze levelling his as he mirrors your positioning, having to slouch a little further forward in his seat to meet your pretty eyes. 

“Whatever you want.” He doesn’t intend it to come out as low as it does, doesn’t realise how close the two of you have gotten over the table, but he sees the flicker of something cross your features as your head tilts again, eyes still locked on his as yours begin to narrow, still just as pretty even when they’re glaring at him.

“It’s what you want that concerns me.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it,” he jibes, watching the way your lips part in preparation of another witty comeback. “What do you say?” He asks, not giving you the chance, seeing the way it makes your skin crawl that you weren’t quick enough, for once. “Are you in?”

You heave out a sigh, shoulders slumping - a tell-tale sign that you’re about to acquiesce - and Luke starts to feel his chest puff out in victory. This feels like a shut-out. It feels like the best performance of his life. 

“You’re gonna make me regret this, aren’t you?”

“Oh definitely,” he smirks, eyes tracking you as you lean back into the booth, retreating from him in defeat, a hand running through your hair as he promises, “You’ll warm up to me soon enough, though.”

“I can’t see that happening.”

“I can,” he shrugs, leaning back too. “I’ve been told I’m inevitable.”

Luke can remember, like it was yesterday, the first time he ever saw you.

Freshman year, the week he moved into his dorm at Michigan, Jack had sent him across campus to check in on how Ellie was getting on. He had arrived with some extravagant gift basket in tow, plastic wrapped, a giant blue bow tied around the top and an assortment of snacks inside, and was left knocking for at least five minutes before you showed up.

“Please tell me you’re not another stripper-gram.”

If his throat hadn’t gone so dry all of a sudden, he thinks he would have had more wits about him to have questioned the use of another - a concept that had stuck in his head for weeks until he caught wind of a story of pledges for Pike being sent around campus and forced to lure girls to their house through way of humiliating song. 

But God, you were pretty. 

Siren eyes narrowed toward him, glossy lips pouted pensively, long lashes blinking impatiently as you awaited some kind of response that didn’t come in the form of an open, drooling mouth.

“I’m Luke.”

“Right.” You had sighed, pretty eyes rolling at him. “You’re blocking my door."

“Oh, I’m-,” he stuttered, immediately stepping to the side for you to come forward and insert your key into the lock. “Does Ellie live here?” He asked, confusion etched into his features as he watched you swing the door open, turning in your place to look him over again.

“Depends who’s asking.”

“I’m Luke.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know her.”

“Clearly.”

“This is her basket.”

“Does she need to sign for it?”

“No, I-,”

“I’ll make sure she gets it, thanks, Lu!”

And when you had taken the basket from his hands, he had been too distracted by the way your skin brushed against his to properly respond, or worry if you had called him that as a nickname or had already forgotten his name, entirely.

He then spent days thinking about you, looking for you - at parties, in the campus coffee shop, online, despite not knowing your name - trying to commit to memory the way your eyes had sparkled when looking his way, until his first Business Communications class.

He had been a little early, first week nerves playing out and his constant craving for positive validation coming to the forefront, and was watching the door waiting for the professor to arrive. He had been slouched in his seat, chin in the palm of his hand, foot tapping rhythmically against the floor, and he had almost given himself whiplash when you walked in. 

He learned your name from there, learned a lot just from watching you in that class, but never really captured your attention.

And if the Luke that has been driving you to work every few days, who has been living with you for the past two weeks - who sits around the same dining table, laughs at the same jokes cracked when you’re all lounging around the house, sits out under the same sun, drinks from the same carton of orange juice in the morning - could tell the Luke that sat pining after you all that time, all the little ways in which he’s captured your attention lately, he’d probably have an aneurysm. 

When you and Ellie moved in, Luke had been the only one allowed to touch your stuff - and there’s a part of him that knows it was mainly because you enjoyed watching him work like a packhorse, hauling your cases up the stairs and dropping them in front of you with a huff, but there’s a larger, more delusional part that thinks you preferred him to the others, maybe even trusted him.

He’s taking credit for how quick you’ve adapted to the dynamic of the house, too. Of all the different faces coming in and out - Quinn’s friends, Jack’s friends, his friends, sometimes even his parents. If you’re around, you’re pleasant. You abide by house rules, some of them stupid, but set by the brothers so long ago that they just work now - like no phones outside of your rooms so that you can be more present. You insert yourself comfortably into conversations, you form your own relationships with everyone - you and Quinn trade book recommendations, you and Jack bicker while Ellie mediates. You do your fare share of chores - laundry, dishes, cooking, even. 

And he’s so caught up in just sharing space, just being around you, even, that for those first couple weeks, he forgets why you even agreed to be there in the first place.

At least, he forgets the incentive part - because he watches mindlessly as you interfere in Jack and Ellie’s dynamic, without a care in the world for the fact that it means he’s losing.

He watches you push one of them out of the way to claim whatever seat at the table or in the car forces them to sit beside each other. He watches you taunt Jack to just the right point where Ellie interferes, coos at him protectively and he melts into her affections. He watches you agree to plans he knows you wouldn’t in a million years follow along with, just to get them together - and all he can do is admire how easy you make it seem. 

He admires when you come out wakeboarding with the group, when you let him fasten you into a vest and don’t flinch when his fingertips brush against bare skin. Watches you bite your tongue over the fact you just got your hair blow dried - a fact you have no problems relaying back to him when he drives you to work the next day, and you’re muttering in his passenger seat about lake water giving you frizz - just so you’re not dampening the mood.

And when you agree to tag along to the golf course on your day off, despite the fact it’s so close to work if could be considered triggering, and you stick by Luke’s side so that Ellie can feign some sort of incompetence until Jack takes it upon himself to correct her form.

You stand by Luke’s side, the two of you watching with mirrored expressions of almost-disgust as Jack wraps his arms around Ellie’s body, and send a shiver down his spine when you lean in for only him to hear as you say, “I’d ask if you’ve put any more thought into what you want out of our bet, but I so have this in the bag.”

The bet.

Luke hasn’t thought about it since that day in the restaurant, if he’s honest, but he had known what he wanted then.

He’s hardly going to tell you, now, though. 

If he’s ever going to take you out on a date, he doesn’t really want to force your hand - not that he has a chance, he’s fallen so behind with this Jack and Ellie thing that it isn’t even funny.

He needs to up his game, if only for the fact that you’ll no doubt catch on to his lack of efforts, soon.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he taunts, because it’s what he does best, “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“And how long do you plan on keeping them up there?” You call him out so easily, tilting your head when his eyes meet yours, mischief highlighted by the sunshine that speckles in your irises. 

“Maybe I’m luring you into a false sense of security,” he shrugs, “Maybe I’m letting you do all the heavy lifting so I can swoop in when those weak arms get tired.” He pokes at your side, basking in the way you scowl like you pertain any sort of threat to him.

He has you figured out, by now. 

“I didn’t have you pegged as being lazy, Hughes.”

“You spend a lot of time thinking about me, huh?”

“You wish,” you scoff, shoving when he dares to get too close, and it’s when Luke is biting back a full-blown grin that Ellie comes back over. 

“This sun is crazy, I think I left the sunscreen in the locker room and Jack’s nose is going all red, would you come back with me?”

You smile sweetly at your best friend and agree, only glaring at Luke over Ellie’s shoulder when she’s distracted with saying her brief, temporary goodbyes to Jack, and once you’ve turned and made your way over to the cart, he lets his eyes linger on your figure as you retreat.

The soft sway of your ponytail, the expanse of smooth skin along your legs, he’s completely hypnotised, and he needs to pull himself together, he thinks.

He tries to regain focus as he and Jack work their way through the next couple of holes, caddying their clubs around without the cart, and chatting mindlessly until Jack sighs heavily, like he’s been waiting to bring something up.

“I want to take Ellie out on the boat tomorrow,” He states as Luke tees up, resting on his club as he squints against the sun to watch his little brother, “Just the two of us, so we can talk about stuff.”

“Sounds riveting,” the disinterest in Luke’s tone is amplified by the lack of attention he’s giving overall, looking out across the green and trying to measure his swing before he takes it. “Have fun.”

“I was thinking I’d need your help for it to work.”

“I’m not being your boat-butler again,” Luke scoffs, mind immediately going to all the times their parents would make Jack take Luke out with him and his friends, and all the times he was made to wait on his older brother hand and foot to make up for crashing his hang-outs.

“I’m not asking you to tag along,” Jack scoffs, “You third-wheeling would be the ultimate buzz-kill. I thought you could be of use elsewhere.”

“You’re making whatever it is sound so fun.” 

Luke takes his swing, driving the ball and watching it soar to his desired point with a hand shielding his eyes from the sun. Jack watches too, stepping to Luke’s side to measure how far from his own ball it lands.

“Nice,” he mutters appreciatively as the two of them load their clubs into their stand bags. “I need you to keep Regina George busy, distract her or something, she’s stuck to Ellie like glue, it’s beyond annoying.”

If only he knew, Luke thinks, a worry in the back of his mind about how his brother owes more to you than he even realises. 

“You worried she’s gonna make her see sense?”

Jack swats at his arm and rolls his eyes.

“I’m worried she’s gonna ruin the good vibes like she usually does and I won’t be able to bite my tongue from saying something and looking like the asshole.”

Distracting you isn’t the worst thing he could be doing with his time, Luke thinks. It’s not like he has to go all out, you’ll no doubt be hanging out around the house and the two of you can hang together. All he has to do is keep you off your phone. Shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve adapted pretty well to mimicking the guys when it comes to staying off theirs.

It ticks off the box of trying to fight for a scrap of your attention. With no one else around, you’ll have no choice but to entertain his company.

And it puts him in front of your little race - lending a helping hand to Jack’s plans to talk to Ellie is surely the same as getting them together. It’s all falling so perfectly into his lap. He isn’t being lazy.

But he can’t let Jack know that, so he heaves out a sigh and offers a slow shake of his head for dramatic effect. “Fine,” he groans, “But you owe me. Big time.”

You’re starting to find it harder and harder to pretend like you don’t want to be at the Lake House.

If you’re being honest, you don’t entirely know why you’re even trying to keep up pretences, but using your disinterest as armour has become like second nature over the years, and you’re hardly going to stop now.

Even if there are already so many little things about being there that are starting to wear you down.

Quiet, early mornings, for one - birds chirping just outside your open window, sun rays pouring in through sheer curtains that flow in the slight breeze, that light feeling that blows through your chest when you’re sat out on the deck behind the house with a fresh cup of coffee, looking out over the still lake and basking in the peace of it all.

And even when it’s not so peaceful, when the kitchen is full of bodies swerving around each other to try and throw together some sort of breakfast spread - pastries and fruit, bacon and eggs, various boxes of cereal on the counter. Quinn had even made a whole batch of pancakes one morning, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t come down every day since hoping to see him donning that same frilly apron that Cole had draped around his waist and working his magic with a pan. 

You’ve never really been a part of such a full house. You had been an only child for so long - and by the time your parents split, and it was just you and your mom, on the days she wasn’t already at work when you got up - and were so ingrained in your own routine in the morning that you think you might actually need the chaos to function better. The rush of bodies, the arguments over who drank the last of the juice, the bickering over who’s turn it is to do the next grocery run - it’s a kind of entertainment you haven’t been privy to in a long time. 

Being kind of disconnected from everything else isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, either. You’re not attached to your phone, checking socials to see what everyone else is doing, to see if your dad has sent any messages yet this summer, and you find yourself connecting a little more with the people around you and leaving your family stress on the back burner. You’re more focused on what’s in front of you, and your relationships with other people. With Ellie, with some of the guys in the house, with your friends at work, even.

And it’s nice to be closer to work too. You don’t have to rush around trying to make the bus - Luke has been keeping his word and driving you to the club most days, and where he can’t, either somebody else has offered, or you’ve just ridden one of the bikes in the garage that the boys said were free to use - the helmet hair is an easy fix when you have access to the locker rooms.

It’s an adjustment, for sure, getting used to being in a full house. Especially this one - with a constant revolving door of faces, friends of the brothers switching out week by week to come and stay, departing just as you’ve started getting to know them with a promise of dropping by again soon.

So far, you’re almost at double-digits for the names you’ve had to memorise. Some of them you were already familiar with, guys from Michigan who you already knew or knew of, but others were more Jack or Quinn’s friends that you’d never had the pleasure of meeting before now.

Cole Caufield being one of them. 

He had arrived a couple of days after you and Ellie moved yourselves in, closer to Jack than the other two brothers, you had noticed, and was going to be staying longer than any of the other visitors - having his own designated room in the house, similar to you girls.

You like Cole - he’s good fun, can take a joke unlike his supposed best friend, and has the kind of smile that almost gives you a buzz whenever it’s flashed your way. Your first few interactions with him were seemingly pleasant, despite Jack constantly in his ear with a hardened glare pointed your way and no doubt unsavoury words uttered. Cole would just shrug him off, laugh, meet your eyes and drop a wink your way - a gesture you’d usually squirm and cringe at, but Cole kind of pulls it off. 

He joins in when you chirp Luke, too - which, if your honest, is your main source of entertainment since arriving, so your interactions with him grow day by day.

You haven’t really spent any one-on-one time with Cole yet, though. You were hoping to, before he left to visit home for the weekend - for no other reason than to get the scoop on something you’d happened upon at work last week - and had planned on asking him to hang out on your day off. But with Cole now gone for a few days, Jack and Ellie off doing god knows what, Quinn and Luke working out wherever, you have no choice but to spend your free Sunday lounging around the house, trying to find something to suppress your growing boredom.

You start with your nails, painting them a summery orangey-red and doing your toes to match, then do your laundry, abiding by house rules that you rotate the loads between the machines, and fold out whoever’s clothes were last in the dryer and place them in the hamper on the side. 

You’re hoping you haven’t had to fold Jack’s underwear but you decide to live in blissful ignorance - trying to identify the load based on the rest of the clothing in there is impossible when they all share, so it kind of works in your favour. 

You FaceTime your mom for almost an hour, getting an update on what she’s been up to with work, and giving her updates on how your summer is going, trying to focus on your time at the club and Ellie so she doesn’t worry too much again that you’re spending your summer in a house filled with boys. 

And by the time Luke and Quinn come back from their workout, you’re in the lounge, 50 pages deep into a book you really couldn’t care less about, but there’s something in you that refuses to beg one of them for company, so you suffer in silence.

Even when Luke does join you, throwing himself down onto the opposite side of the couch you’re occupying and pushing your feet off his side like it’s his sole purpose just to annoy you.

“I was comfortable there, asshat,” you frown, lifting your feet back into their previous position and using one to give him a light kick to his thigh.

“Yeah, well, I hardly want your feet all up in my business while I’m trying to relax,” he sighs, sinking into the cushions with hands clasped behind his head, biceps flexing and tightening the arms of his t-shirt in a way that momentarily catches your eye. You’re thankful for his closed eyes, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you divert your attention back to the mundane words on the pages in front of you.

“And yet here you are when there are 2 other couches.”

“Yeah, well, I know how much you like to be near me.”

You try to ignore him, pulling your feet a little closer to your body and focusing back on the book, but it’s hard when Luke has such a presence. You feel the little looks he keeps sending your way like a physical touch, and the couch shifts with every slight movement he makes, so when he constantly shuffles, you start to think he wants your attention.

Of course he wants your attention. This is Luke Hughes.

“Are you just sitting down here to annoy me?”

He lights up, like he’s just been waiting for you to ask, and shuffles in his seat to face you, fully, bouncing in place like a puppy being teased with a tennis ball. 

“I’m actually trying to distract you, if you must know.”

“Bold of you to assume you have enough of my attention to be distracting in the first place,” you scoff, trying not to react to the way he smirks in your peripheral, the words in front of you all blurring together. If you were actually focused on them, you’d have lost your place, already.

“I think you pay more attention to me than you’d like to admit.”

“That’s some ego you’ve got on you, Hughes,” you narrow your eyes as you look above the edge of your book, “Is that what you spend that big NHL paycheque on, charisma classes? How to flirt for dummies?”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing? Flirting?”

Damn. You walked yourself right into that one. 

Sometimes biting back at Luke comes like second nature, words first, thoughts after - and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it that way. It’s easy, the back and forth, and you can’t really think of an instance with him where you’ve sat in a lingering, awkward silence. You’ve really grown to hate silence, lately.

“You wish.”

“You think I’m charismatic,” he teases in a sing-song voice, knocking at your knee and wiggling his eyebrows when you glare at him. 

“I think you’re an idiot.”

“You’re not gonna ask what I’m distracting you from?”

“I don’t really care,” you lie, eyes darting back down and diverting the attention he so desperately craves away from him.

“Jack wanted to take Ellie out on the boat.” He says, ignoring your attempts to ignore him - pushing your buttons like a full time job. Like an operator for your last nerve.

“Good for her.”

“Alone.”

“No shit.”

“To ask her out.”

“Whoop-de-doo.”

“Whoop-de-,” Luke straightens up, like a whack-a-mole with his head positioning itself over the top of your book, and you kind of wish you had one of those soft mallets right about now. It would be so satisfying to bonk at his head, you think. “What do you mean, whoop-de-doo, is this not what you agreed to be here for? To get them together?”

You scoff, flicking to the next page of the book in feigned disinterest. “He isn’t asking her out today.”

This is the exact something you had wanted to talk to Cole about - whispers in the staff lounge at work earlier in the week doing the rounds would imply otherwise, but your main source is kind of a gossip, and you’re not entirely sure of their reliability, despite the few degrees of separation to the subject at hand. 

Mutterings of Jack and Cole and their little country club connections. 

You can hardly ask Luke of all people if his brother is as much of a man-whore as everyone is making out. Cole was a safe bet - he’d probably just tell you straight up what they’re up to, wear his pride like a shining gold medal. He’s upfront about his promiscuity, at least. Luke is more protective. Of himself, of his family, you’re not entirely sure. There haven’t been as many whispers about him. 

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because he’s a spineless idiot,” you retort, eyes flicking up momentarily to take in his furrowed brow. “No offence,” comes out of nowhere, and you surprise yourself with the instinct to lessen the blow of your words for the first time in forever.

“None taken, he’s only my flesh and blood,” Luke huffs, “You’re just jealous I’m winning our bet.”

“Sure,” you drawl, eyes widening to emphasise the sarcasm as you make a point of angling your head to the next page, like you’ve taken a single word in for the past five minutes. “He’s been talking to one of the girls from work. There’s no way he’s doing that and asking Ellie out, unless he’s completely brain dead.”

And when you look back at Luke, that furrowed brow has shifted into a full blown frown, pouted lips and eyes cast down as if he’s trying to figure everything out in his head. 

It’s probably the pout that has you cushioning your words, once more.

“Again, no offence, I doubt it’s in your DNA.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m no bio student but I don’t think there’s a genetic marker for being a fuckboy.”

“No, about him talking to one of the girls at the club. He didn’t tell me that.”

Why does he have to sound like that? Let down and unsure, quieter than you think you’ve ever heard him. It’s like the tone he carries goes straight to your fingers, clasping the book closed without marking your page - because what business do you have carrying on that charade?

“Do you guys tell each other everything?” You ask as you throw the book until it lands on the coffee table with a gentle thud, shuffling until you’re sat against the arm of the couch with knees bent in front of you, giving him your undivided attention and feeling guilty that it might not be enough.

“I thought we did,” he scratches at the back of his head, nervously, “He literally told me yesterday he was taking her out to talk about stuff, why would he make a point of asking me to keep you busy if he’s not serious about asking her out?”

“You don’t want to hear my answer to a question about your brother not being serious.” 

“Who’s the girl?” He asks, ignoring your comment despite the slight ghost of a smile you see flash into the corner of his mouth. 

“Jessica, she works at the pro shop, apparently they’ve been texting all summer.”

You know for a fact that since you’ve started paying attention, you’ve seen Jack on his phone a lot for a guy who chirps you for your own screen-time, and who has enforced the house rule of no phones outside your room like a prison guard yells out no touching at visitation. So it sort of checks out. You’ve tried to sneak a peak, but he’s protective of his stuff like a yappy little dog with attachment issues at the best of times, so you haven’t really put too much effort into it.

“There were a few people talking about it in the lounge at work the other day,” you shrug, “One of the girls talking about it is Jess’ best friend, so not exactly from the horse’s mouth, but I don’t think she’d be spreading lies about her friend around like that.”

“Can you find out?”

“You ask that like I haven’t been trying.” That gets a full smile, a small chuckle that lifts his shoulder, even, “I was gonna grill Caufield about it but he’s gone. But I know you guys have plans when he gets back tomorrow, so if you want to take Cole I’ll hack away at the grape vine at the club?”

“Does this mean we’re teammates?” 

“No. It absolutely does not.”

Hacking away at the grapevine is really a lot more like plucking absentmindedly at an overgrown patch of grass when it comes to workplace gossip. 

By the end of your shift, you’re leaving the club with a fist clutched full of loose blades, fingers stained green from the amount of information people were willing to ‘fess up.

Liam who works behind the bar had overheard a conversation where Jack had mentioned Jessica, but could only give you useless tidbits, like how he had to stop by the shop for a new putter, and Jess had been the one to ring him up.

Hardly incriminating, but you had a feeling it would be a small piece of a way larger puzzle. That, and guys are notoriously useless at gossiping, there’s definitely more to that story than Liam could even comprehend in his tiny man brain.

Cassidy who works at the front desk had seen Jack and Jess talking in the main lobby last week, definitely flirting, she had said - with hair flips and giggles galore - and way too familiar to be new. 

Much better.

Paola who has the alternative shifts in the pro shop was more than willing to take up ten minutes of your time ranting how Jess’ work is never fully done when it comes to a handover, and she spends half her time on her phone. Kiran, who works the bev cart every Monday, said Jack is always one of the most charming in their golfing group, so it’s no surprise if he is exchanging texts with girls from the club. 

You get dirt from most corners of the place, and it leads you all the way back to your station, to reservations set for the restaurant, where tonight’s list - unfortunately a shift you’re not set to work, although you very much question the serendipity of that - has Jack’s name down at 7pm. A table for 2 in the back corner, shielded from prying eyes and intimate.

And if it weren’t for the fact you’ve already worked a full shift, you would consider staying just to get the full scoop. 

You know Ellie isn’t going to be the one sat across from him, she’s been sending you pictures all day of her various hauls for her quiet night in. New paints and pencils, a sketchpad, some candles - she has all intentions of working on her watercolour technique.

So it has to be for him and Jessica.

Imagine his face, you think, picturing wide, panicked eyes as you roam up to his table to take his order. He’d actually crap his pants. 

But, it’s another set of eyes that you picture when you start to enjoy the scheming a little too much. The sad, teary eyes of your best friend, when she finds out the guy she’s been hung up on for half her life, who she has all but convinced herself isn’t interested, and is - absurdly - ‘far too good’ for her - yeah, right - is dating other girls while taking her out on not-so-platonic boat dates only the day before. A boat date that she had come back to your room, flung herself onto her belly on the bed, and kicked her feet as she gushed all about it. 

So you make your way back to the house after a long day, and resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to, yet again, get all your information on Jack’s date second hand.

You primed Cara, your colleague in the restaurant, to keep an eye out, and she promised to send updates on her breaks, and you have been holed up in yours and Ellie’s shared bedroom trying to keep her busy when there is a persistent knock at the door, and a mop of soft, curly brown hair pokes in before his eyes meet yours.

“Hey, Luke!” Ellie chimes, cheery and all too blissfully unaware of the potentially horrific circumstances you’ve stumbled upon. “You need to borrow my conditioner again?”

You scoff from your position on the bed, watching a slight pink hue flush up Luke’s neck.

“What? No,” he denies, running a hand through his hair and seemingly frowning a little at the way it feels. “I’m going to the store, wondered if either of you needed anything?”

“Nah, thanks, we’re good,” Ellie smiles, attention diverting straight back to where she’s drawing in her sketchbook, missing the way Luke widens his eyes and tilts his head as if to encourage you to take him up on his offer.

“Can I come with?” You shuffle from your position on the bed, swinging your legs out from beneath you and over the side as Ellie looks back at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted something.”

“Someone’s got to show the poor guy what’s what on the haircare aisle, El.”

And you’re thankful that Ellie has settled herself in for the evening already by 6:45, showered, pyjamas on, otherwise she might have tried to tag along, too, just for something to do.

You swipe her phone before she can notice and hide it under your pillow before you leave, thinking it might reduce the risk of her getting bored and texting Jack, or, worse, checking his location.

A trip out gives you the chance for you and Luke to debrief each other on your findings of the day - or, as it turns out, just you, because Luke Hughes might be the worst information-gatherer on planet Earth.

Finding his life’s niche in hockey is fortunate, because he definitely wouldn’t cut it as an investigator.

“He just said he didn’t know anything,” Luke shrugs of his earlier encounter with Cole, and you try not to gape at him in disbelief as he fiddles with the screen in his BMW, scrolling through the interface in search of the nearest store. 

You swat his hand away with a scoff, typing in a destination, “And you believed him?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

“You’re about as useless as a chocolate teapot, Hughes. What is it with guys and gossip, are you all really that dumb?”

“That’s the address for the club,” he points out, ignoring your jibe as he starts driving.

“Well done, you can read.”

“Why?”

“Because, thankfully, one of us is a good detective.” You snark, “Jack’s there.”

“So?”

“He’s on a date.”

“No he isn’t,” Luke frowns, attention momentarily taken from the road as he looks over at you. “I’ve been with him all afternoon, he would have told me if he had a date, tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d he say he was going when he left, earlier?”

He hadn’t been home when you got back from work, but that had been around an hour ago. You figured if he was sneaky enough to book into the restaurant when you’re not working, he’d have his wits about him to avoid you, entirely. Whenever the two of you cross paths, you can’t help but try get on his last nerve, and he’s hardly going to want to start his evening in a foul mood.

“To get his hair cut.”

Jesus Christ, you think, he’s so lucky he’s cute.

“You’re so clueless. He’s at the lounge with Jessica, the girl I told you about yesterday.”

“And what are we supposed to do about that?”

“We’re gonna supervise. And maybe interfere, if necessary.” 

You don’t really have a plan, but it seems like the right thing to at least get a look in as to what the hell Jack thinks he’s doing, especially if you’re going to carry on with this whole plan of getting him and Ellie together. If he’s seriously entertaining other girls while making out to Luke that he only has eyes for Ellie, your plans might have to change. You’re not sure if Luke will be on board with the new path you’re willing to take, but you’ll be happy to kill his brother on your own.

“Interfere?” Luke’s eyes are wide, but he keeps them on the road, fingers flexing against the wheel. “I just came out for chips to make nachos, not play spies!”

“Cara’s working tonight, she said she’d keep an eye on them for me. I bet if I cover her hosting shift on Friday she’d sabotage their date. We’d just have to sit back and watch.”

“Oh,” Luke’s brows furrow, as if it’s taking any consideration at all to mess with his brother. “You really are an evil genius.”

You try not to think too hard about who’s been spewing that rhetoric already in his ear, and instead you smile when he casts his eyes your way, proud and pleased. 

“Thank you.”

It takes another 15 minutes to get to the club, considering Luke’s best Driving Miss Daisy impression, so their date is already underway by the time Cara is ushering you to a booth in the far corner, where you can see Jack’s table, but he shouldn’t be able to see yours, and agreeing to play along.

“Can I get you guys any drinks?” She asks as she hands over two menus, and you’re too interested in trying to gauge the vibe at the other table while Luke looks over his.

“Two diet cokes, shaved ice, no lemon,” he says, and you can’t help but frown at the way the specificity of that order rolls so easily off his tongue. That’s your order.

“Any food?”

“Could we just get some nachos, please?” You ask, sliding your menu across the table without even looking, not wanting to give Luke too much of a chance to peruse his own out of fear you’ll be here all night. “And extra picante on the side.”

“Extra guac, too,” Luke adds as Cara scribbles the instructions on her notepad, “And some of those chicken tenders, and extra ranch. And maybe some fries. Yeah, chilli fries. And breadsticks.”

You level him with a glare, already proven right in your decision not to give him too much time to think about what he wanted. He’ll order every appetiser on the menu, if given half the chance. 

“Thanks, Cara, that’s everything.”

“Sure thing, should be around fifteen minutes. They only just ordered,” she points her pen back to Jack’s table, where Jess is leaning onto the table and Jack is leaning back in his seat - heavy on the distance but even heavier on the eye contact. That little shit.

“Does he have any allergies?” You lean onto your own table to ask Luke, quirking a brow up when his eyes darken in response, mischief swirling in his emerald irises.

“Absolutely not,” Cara interjects, “I’m doing this so you cover my job, not make me lose it.”

“Let me guess, he ordered the steak, medium-rare?” Luke asks, and she nods, hesitantly. “Char it.”

“Won’t he complain?”

“He’ll just grumble to himself about how tough it is. It’ll put him in a bad mood. That’s what we want, right?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding your head to ease Cara’s worries despite what you really want is for Chef Michael to poison the cut, entirely. If Jack Hughes wants to play with your best friend’s heart, you’ll play with his gut. But you can settle for burnt meat. Luke can work some sort of magic with that, you think, convincing Jack of all people that any first date that resulted in him coming home all sour-puss and sulky should never result in a second. “Bad mood. Bingo.”

“Fine,” Cara grumbles, “But if he even thinks about asking for a manager, you’re covering my next 3 Fridays.”

She storms off to the kitchen, and you and Luke simultaneously sink into your seats, attention immediately diverted back to the table in the opposite corner of the room.

“We should have kept the menus,” Luke mutters from across the booth, “Could have hidden behind them.”

“What are we, children?” You snark, “You can’t think of any more creative ways to stay hidden?”

“I heard PDA makes people pretty uncomfortable,” he leans onto the table, dropping you a wink when you glance over out of the side of your eye, “We should make out to throw everyone off the scent.”

“In your dreams, Hughes.”

Luke sort of envies the charm you hold over people.

The way you can convince people to do your bidding with a mere flutter of your eyelashes or a flash of pearly teeth and a glimmer in your irises.

He has trouble, sometimes, skirting around his honesty or hiding his intentions - and he knows that’s not a bad thing, knows that being clear and truthful is an admirable trait, if anything - but the way you persuade others to bend to your whim with intricate white lies based on observations you’ve made or intel you’ve gathered is a praiseworthy level of genius. 

It had taken such minimal effort for you to get Cara on side, to convince her that being a little clumsy is hardly grounds for her termination, and spilling a little of Jack’s drink close to the edge of the table - close enough that it drips onto his pants and Luke can see the steams of frustration exuding from his brother’s skin from all the way on the other side of the restaurant - or bumping her hip on the edge of their table every time she passes are really just harmless irritations, not likely to cause actual complaint. 

You had used the mere tone of your voice to convince Liam from behind the bar to squeeze a little lime in Jack’s water, knowing just from observing him back at the house that he hates the taste, face curling in disgust at even the slightest hint of it, and Luke had watched your eyes gleam in delight every time Jack took a sip of his drink and tried not to spit it back out, seeking much needed reprieve to swallow down the world’s toughest steak cut. 

You’d even worked your magic on him, pouting your lips when the food had arrived at the table, and he had initially declined to share his chicken tenders with you - your grumblings at him ordering enough to feed the five thousand fresh in his memory, but so easily wiped away by the soft, sad look in your eyes, and your whining of, “But I didn’t realise how hungry I’d get. Plotting and scheming is hard work, Luke.”

You ended up eating half, but he could hardly complain - you were doing the heavy lifting out of the two of you.

He was sitting back and enjoying the show - enjoying your company, if he’s honest. Enjoying the way his gangly limbs would sometimes knock into yours under the table, enjoying the way he kept getting little nuggets of information out of you while you were distracted, sipping at your coke and making little comments about yourself, about your life, without even realising you’re doing it. 

And an unplanned, pseudo date ends up being the first time he thinks he’s had a glimpse at the real you.

The you who knows more about hockey than you’ve ever let on before, who comes back to his stories with contextual questions about the game, even has references to a few games of his back at Michigan, and keeps the conversation flowing despite your feigned disinterest, and a constant gaze cast his brother’s way.

That would usually drive him crazy.

He’s experienced it so often that he has come to expect it, people only entertaining his company to acquire the attention of his brothers, but that’s not what you’re doing. Not really.

You pay more attention to Luke than you’d ever let on.

You ask him about his time in Ostrava at the beginning of summer, even though he’s only mentioned being overseas once while you’ve been staying with him - an offhanded comment from Quinn at breakfast that you must have taken on. Ask him about all the food he tried while out there, when he mentions he doesn’t like picante, and you use it as a springboard to talk about what sort of spices he does like, or if he’s the type to try things or stick to what he knows. 

You ask him about being the youngest sibling, and it stems from an offhanded comment Luke had grumbled about always being the last to be clued in on stuff, about how Jack had probably confided in Quinn about his extracurricular activities at the club, and didn’t trust him enough to let him in on the fact he’s going out on dates. You ask if he usually figures things out himself before he’s told them, if that’s what makes him so good at observing and analysing stuff, and he hadn’t ever realised he was particularly good at those things before you brought it up. But then you reference a day in class one time, where he had picked up on something in a textbook that you never would have figured out in a million years, and his heart leaps at the praise you don’t even realise you’re giving him.

You sandwich your perceptions in your usual snark, but he doesn’t miss the slight curve of your lips anymore when he bites straight back, knowing now that there is some part of you that feels the nip of his teeth, that acknowledges his existence beyond him being a speck of inconvenience in your peripheral.

And he gets a little carried away in that acknowledgement - stops paying attention himself to what is happening on the other side of the room and tries to focus on what’s in front of him; the girl he pined after his entire college career, sat sharing nachos and pretending not to know him at a level you so clearly do.

You must get carried away, too, because neither of you notice Jack’s date wrapping up until Luke catches him hand his card over to Cara.

He’s lost count of how long the two of you have been at the club, now - way longer than it takes to get chips from the store, that’s for sure - and all he does know is that if Jack catches either of you two here, after a night of mishaps, bad food, spilled drinks and Cara’s incessant clumsiness, he’ll know who’s to blame. 

“We better get out of here before he sees us,” Luke sighs, not entirely wanting to wrap up his time with you but knowing he doesn’t really have a choice.

“I’ve just got to pick something up before we head back,” you reply, edging out of the booth at the same time Luke does, “I’ll meet you out front just give me two minutes?”

“Be quick,” he tells you before you scurry off, and he flags down Cara, who tells him you already put your bill on your worker tab. He tells her to switch it to his, and that he’ll drop by tomorrow to pay it off, promising to leave her a good tip for her stellar services for the evening. 

He waits where you asked him to, making sure to stick to the side of the entryway where he can duck for cover if his brother makes an appearance - but you show up first, skipping out from the staff lounge with a bag of tortilla chips in hand.

“Let’s go, Lukey boy!” He follows you out like a puppy on a leash, all the way to where his car is parked, almost bumping into you when you stop and turn without warning, stretching your hand out to him. “Give me your keys.”

“Are you crazy?” He snorts, “You’re not driving my car!”

“I know a shortcut!” You reason, stepping forward and making a grabby motion with your fingers, “We gotta beat Jack home, I just paid another server $20 to spill a whole drink on him before he leaves and he’s gonna be pissed. I want to see the meltdown back at the house and you drive like a nun!”

Luke doesn’t know why he gives in so easy - it could be the proximity, the way you’re so close you have to look up at him, eyes twinkling softly under the moonlight, voice carrying over to him like a siren song, or it could just be because he’s weak - but he hands his keys over with a roll of his eyes and climbs into the passenger side, sliding the seat back with a huff to accommodate his long legs and watching as you adjust the driver’s side, cringing at the way he’s gonna have to figure out exactly how he had it before.

You drive like a maniac, to the point where Luke has to screw his eyes shut as you use some back road, can hear the squelch of mud beneath his tires and squirms at the thought of having to take it to the car wash, tomorrow. 

But you make it back to the lake house much quicker than if he were driving, he’ll give you that. So quick that you feel comfortable enough to turn to him once you’ve pulled up, in no rush to unbuckle and get out to get inside before Jack gets home.

“Just so we’re clear, this is a point under my name. You’re not claiming tonight as a win.”

Luke chuckles, turning in his seat to face you, features illuminated by the dim overhead light that turns on when the engine switches off and a slight flush of exhilaration to your cheeks. There’s no pretending you haven’t enjoyed yourself, not tonight. “But the steak thing was my idea?”

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be sat watching baseball and thinking he was getting a 3 hour haircut, you can’t seriously be trying to steal this from me, I thought you athletes had integrity!”

“You’re really keeping score?”

“You’re not?”

If Luke’s honest, he hasn’t really thought about your whole wager all night. He’s been too wrapped up in the idea that his brother had lied to him. Twice. And now his whole plan for the two of you all summer has potentially been messed up. But hearing you mention it, hearing you talk about it like it hasn’t been flushed down the toilet by his brother’s idiocy sparks something in him - excitement, anticipation. He doesn’t want to let this go.

“I actually think we made a good team back there,” he shrugs, eyes meeting yours to gauge your reaction to the thought of doing this together.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re gonna lose,” you retort, eyes sparkling with those same sentiments he had just felt. 

“Probably,” he acquiesces, “Also ‘cause you kind of scare me a little after tonight, last thing I wanna do is go up against you when you have the power to turn half the country club against me.”

You smirk, and his eyes are drawn to the plush curve of your lips, watching them as they form around the softly spoken words, “God forbid you can’t go a round of golf without your caddy breaking down.”

“Exactly.” He mutters back, glad to see your gaze is still zeroed in on him when he meets it again. He can feel the thump thump thump of his pulse in his ears, and takes a deep breath before proposing, “Partners?”

He cocks a brow and holds his pinky out over the centre console, and you eye the digit, sceptically, narrowing your eyes into a glare before raising them to meet his. “Fine,” you grumble, then hook your little finger through his and tighten it to shake, a slight yelp of surprise filling the car when he tugs, your lax arm giving way until your knuckle touches his lips and he kisses it.

“Ew,” you whine, snatching your finger back as he fills the space himself with a hearty chuckle, wiping it on his hoody in disgust. “That’s gross!”

“No take backs,” he smiles, victorious, with his chest puffed out, primed for you to swat at with the flex of your hand, and the two of you are only pulled out of the moment by the sound of tyres pulling up on the gravel behind you, both of you stumbling to unbuckle yourselves and climb out of the car. 

Jack is exiting his own vehicle behind, and stomps down the driveway, shouldering past you until he realises who he has passed, turning back and looking at you with suspicion cast across his features. 

“Where have you twobeen?” Jack asks, glancing a curious eye between the two of you before meeting Luke’s gaze, levelling him with an inquisitive glare.

“We went to the store for chips,” Luke holds the bag up, the crinkle loud enough for Jack to hear, and he feels an insurgence rising within him, spurred on by the way his brother is looking at him like he’s the one who should be ashamed of his actions. “Nice haircut.”

Jack runs a hand through his hair, surprise crossing his features in a brief flash at the call out, like he had never even expected Luke to notice his hair looks no different to the last time he saw him mere hours ago, like he would never even need to question his alibi.

“Oh, yeah, I got the day wrong. Went out for dinner instead.”

“On your own?” You ask from beside him, your presence giving Luke the kind of back up he very much needs right now, a new target for Jack’s narrowed eyes that takes the heat off of him a little, lessens the burden of lying to his brother - despite Jack being the one who started it, it doesn’t make Luke feel any less bad, doesn’t quell the need to word vomit and admit to all the ludicrous things he had done to ruin Jack’s night. “You end up having a little accident there, bud?”

Luke tries not to outwardly laugh as his attention is diverted to the wet patch that still soaks up the front of Jack’s pants, lips quivering as he presses them together, oblivious to the steam pouring out of his brother’s ears as he immediately gets riled up. 

“One of your esteemed colleagues at the club apparently lacks hand eye co-ordination. Plus, some of us like our own company,” Jack scoffs, “Some of us can go an evening without the need to annoy anybody else.”

“It’s not news to me that you’re in love with yourself, dude,” you retort back, entirely unbothered by his jibes. “Bet you’ve got all sorts of riveting thoughts swirling around that ginormous head of yours, must keep you busy for hours on end.”

“At least I have thoughts, at least I’m not some airheaded-,”

“Hey,” Luke’s tone is authoritative when he calls out, stern and demanding, “Cut it out, Jack.”

“She started it!”

“She asked you a question,” Luke frowns, disappointed with how quick his brother had taken to escalating the situation, all in an attempt to deflect the attention from his own deception. He knows you don’t need him to protect you from Jack’s sharp tongue, knows you can very much defend yourself, but he needs to vent his frustrations, somehow, without causing a bust up on the driveway. “You could have just give her a straight answer without biting her head off.”

He feels like you’re a little closer, all of a sudden, and he doesn’t know it’s the slight brush of your arm against his or if it’s something else, something less tangible - but it warms him, all the same. Steadies the static thump of his heart in his chest at the thought of starting an argument with his brother out of nowhere. 

“Whatever,” Jack rolls his eyes, “I’m going to bed.”

And as Jack turns, Luke sees your lips part, ready to send him off with the last word until a large hand clamps itself over your mouth, and your wide eyes meet his over the sides of his fingers.

He’s not sure why he did it, why he all of a sudden feels comfortable enough to cross the boundaries of purposeful touch, but he doesn’t entirely regret it.

Plush lips press mid-word against his palm, and your skin is soft, cheeks warming ever so slightly beneath his hand.

“You gotta let him go, there’s no use fighting with him tonight, it’s better to drag it out. Didn’t think I’d have to teach you about the beauty of the long game,” he says, voice low as he watches his brother retreat to the house, waiting until he’s safe inside to retract his hand. “Not like this, anyway.”

“Your brother’s an asshole,” you grumble, “Full offence.”

“No arguments from me,” Luke concedes, holding his hands as if surrendering to the fact, himself. “What are you gonna tell Ellie?”

“Nothing.” You sigh, stepping a little down the drive and toward the house before turning back to him. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, partner.”

There have only been a handful of times in your life you’ve ever been thankful for work coinciding with huge plans, but when the group had decided that they wanted to go see Zach Bryan play Ford Field, you had thanked your lucky stars you had been put down to work a full shift at the restaurant and wouldn’t be able to go.

Not only for the fact that he isn’t really your thing, but for the fact that you’re finally getting a full evening to yourself.

So far, in your time at the house, most evenings have been spent with everyone else - group dinners, game nights, movie nights, even a couple of girls nights with just you and Ellie scattered in there, but nothing on your own, yet. 

You can’t wait. And with an empty house, you have a full pamper night planned. You’ve been stocking up odd bits on your trips to the store over the past couple of weeks - sheet masks, aromatherapy candles, you’ve even picked up some flower petals from the spa at the club, in the hopes that you might even treat yourself to a relaxing soak in the bathtub. You can play whatever music you want, make whatever food you want, sit wherever you want in the house, out on the deck, overlooking the lake with a book in hand and no chirpy voices in your ear all night.

You can’t wait.

The only downside is not having a ride home, but you haven’t finished too late. The sun will still be up for a couple of hours, and a walk in the simmering heat back to the house doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Your feet carry you with ease down the back roads, and you even make the journey without your headphones on, taking in the scenery, the blissful peace of your surroundings, so lost in the tranquility of it all that the sight of Luke washing his car on the drive when you get home dampens your mood as quick as a torrential downpour of rain, flash floods coursing through your evening and wrecking your plans entirely. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You can’t help the bite in your tone as you approach, sneakers crunching against the gravel as Luke pauses the hose, looks over at you with the sun in his eyes, and you have to remind yourself he’s just ruined the one night you have for yourself before you get distracted by the fact that he’s shirtless.

“Washing my car?” he calls back, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Detroit right now?”

Luke shrugs, and you have to will your eyeballs not to move any lower than his neck to watch his shoulders lift and drop, lest you get too caught up in the broad expanse of his chest and do something ridiculous like drool.

“Wasn’t feeling it.”

“You weren’t feeling a concert you guys haven’t shut up about for weeks, but you were feeling washing your car?”

He’s dead. When he’s finished with his car and he retreats to his room, you’re gonna smother him with a pillow and discard of his body in the lake. You’re not even gonna let him shower, first. That’s what the lake’s for.

He’s crapping all over your plans because he wasn’t feeling it?

“It needs cleaning,” he shrugs again, and you swear you’re gonna jump in and run him over with the damn thing, “In fact, you really should be helping me.”

There’s a small part of you that feels like the thoughts of violence are worryingly aggressive, but then a larger part of you realises he must have a death wish.

“How’d you get to that conclusion?”

“You’re the one who drove us through a swamp,” he scoffs, a pointed hand flung toward the body of his car, where the sides are lined with a thick layer of dried dirt from the other night, “You get it dirty, you clean it up.”

“As much as I would absolutely love to fulfil your pervy car wash fantasy, I have much better things I could be doing with my time.”

Or you did, until Luke rained all over your parade of solitude.

“Like what?”

“Literally anything but this.” You gesture at the show he’s putting on. The suds dripping from the roof of the car, the hose in his hand, the buckets scattered around the perimeter. “I need to shower, I just walked from the club and I-,”

A death wish might actually be an understatement.

Luke wants you to murder him in the most gruesome, horrific way you could possibly muster - he has to, because there’s no other explanation for why he’d turn the hose on, point it straight at you, and drench the front of you, entirely. 

You can feel the fabric of your t-shirt dampening and sticking to your chest, and you scrunch your eyes shut to stop droplets of water slipping into them, thankful that when they open again, his own are looking back at you, and not any lower.

You’d really have a reason to kill him, then. 

“You did not just do that.” You growl, glaring back at him with a clenched jaw as the fucker beams back at you, pressing the trigger once more in a short burst that fires straight at your chest, again.

“What, that?”

“You’re so dead.”

You drop your bag and launch for him, aiming to take the hose from his grip, but he fires it again out of sheer panic, the water spouting out from between your splayed fingers, cold and pressured, and it soaks the both of you, raining down as you grapple for the head and Luke remains unrelenting.

There are squeals and yelps called out into the misty air between the two of you, and you get to a point you can’t tell what sounds are coming from who, but you manage to wrestle the hose from his grip and point it straight at him as he jets away with a laugh that rumbles straight from his belly.

It’s the kind of laugh that elicits another, and you don’t realise until he’s circling back to you that the laughter is coming from you - giggling, even, as the two of you engage in a water fight like misbehaving children - and it isn’t long until all aggressive thoughts wash away with the suds that slip to the gravel, forgetting why you were even annoyed in the first place.

It shouldn’t be as fun as it is, but after the long day at work, and the tiring walk back, letting your guard down and engaging it a little mindless chaos seems to wake you up a little.

Your childish game gets Luke what he wanted, anyway, the two of you working together to clean his car when you realise he’s only running in front of all the parts that actually need hosing off and relying on you having bad aim to get the job done, and you figure getting your hands a little dirty is harmless when you’re already soaked through and in dire need of a shower.

And your pamper-plans of a bubble bath and self-care don’t entirely come to fruition, but Luke promises to make up for his petulance by ordering pizza and sticking a movie on, so you bite your tongue to refrain from voicing your initial complaints, and decide to just go with the flow, for once - he hasn’t exactly led you astray, yet.  

You take a little longer in the shower than normal, with no one around to complain about hogging the bathroom or worry about them barging in unannounced, and you suppose that’s a small victory - one little luxury you get to cling to as you bask in the steam, letting all the tension slip from your aching muscles after being on your feet all day.

And once you’re out, hair dried just enough with a towel that it isn’t going to drip or soak your t-shirt, and you’re dressed in your pyjamas, you make your way downstairs, where Luke has already set up a plethora of snacks in the living room.

Nachos, popcorn, candy and drinks scattered across the coffee table as he relaxes on the couch, hair extra curly after his shower and an old Michigan t-shirt stretched tight across his now much-broader chest. 

“Thought I’d wait for you to pick a movie,” he chimes up from where he’s sat, gesturing with a lazy point to the wall of blu-rays beside the TV. 

“Did Netflix never make it to the Hughes household?” You scoff in disbelief as you take them all in properly for the first time. You’d seen them in your peripheral when you’d been hanging out down here, before, but actually looking at them up close, reading all the titles, seeing the sheer volume of how many there are, it kind of surprises you.

“We can look on Netflix if you want. They always take stuff off, though.”

You know. All your favourite movies get taken off of streaming, and you only ever find out about it when you’re really in the mood to watch them. As soon as you realise the wall is alphabetised, you know exactly where to look.

“That’s alright,” you shrug, stepping to the side as you track backwards, through M, L, K and J. “You guys are pretty analogue, I’ve noticed.”

“What do you mean?”

“The board games, the DVDs, the whole no phones around the house thing.”

“No phones around the house is common courtesy,” he chuckles, “But I guess we’re a little weird about the other stuff.”

“It’s pretty cool,” you shrug, spotting the DVD you want and sliding it out to assess the case. “It’s old school. Probably better for the brain. My little brothers can’t really function without an iPad and they’re 5, it’s freaky, like they’re haunted by the capitalist ghost of Steve Jobs or something.”

“I didn’t know you had brothers,” Luke frowns where you almost expect him to laugh, and you spin on your heel to face him. He has this look about him like he should have known that - like the two of you have ever conversed in anything other than sarcastic quips and scrunched up faces, or whatever attempts at flirting have been on his part. 

“Technically they’re half brothers,” you shrug, “They live out in Philly with my dad and step mom, I don’t really get to see them much.”

“Didn’t know you were from Philly, either.”

“I’m not, my dad moved out there when him and my mom got divorced.”

It’s not something you really love talking about. 

The few times you’ve tried, you’ve been shot down, patronising tones scoffing at how your biggest trauma is the separation of your parents, as if your whole world didn’t crumble down with the demise of their relationship, the demise of life as you knew and very dearly loved it.

“You don’t see him even in the summer?”

“Him and his family are on vacation in Europe for 6 weeks. England, France, Spain, Germany, the boys are into soccer so they’ll be out there until the Euros.”

You don’t miss the way Luke’s face scrunches at how you call them his family, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him to start pitying you, so you throw the DVD case toward him before you can second guess your choice.

Interstellar. 

You hope he doesn’t pick up on why it might be one of your favourites. Especially not considering the topic of the conversation at hand. Something about the crippling regret Cooper has for leaving Murph behind plucks harmoniously at some unidentifiable strings deep within you, but you’re hardly about to admit that to Luke, of all people.

“I love this movie,” he smiles, almost surprised, as if he expected you to throw The Notebook his way. Maybe next time - he’d probably love that movie, too, if he gave it a chance. 

“Me too. I love space movies.”

“Like Space Jam?” He asks as he pushes himself up, going toward the TV to set up the movie with the DVD in one hand and the remote control in the other. 

“No, like movies about Space,” you say, throwing yourself down onto the same couch he just vacated and tucking your feet beneath you to get comfortable. “Although I guess Space Jam would technically fit into that bracket.”

“I didn’t realise that was a genre,” he chuckles.

“Not the scary ones, though, I don’t wanna be freaked out by space.”

“Is that like a thing? You just like any movie set in space?”

“I like anything about space, period. Movies, documentaries, books. Thinking about it makes me feel really insignificant.”

“Insignificant? Is that not a bad thing?” He asks as he makes his way back, settling into his side and angling his body toward yours.

“Do you ever think about how big the universe is, Hughes? It’s humongous! If I ever feel anxious or panicky I think about just how big it is and how I’m not even a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. If I’m so tiny, how big can my problems actually be?”

“I guess that makes sense,” he seems to mull it over in his head, the thought of him even considering it and not making you feel stupid warms your chest - makes you forget just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him in the last couple of minutes alone, makes you worry less that you’re sharing too much. “I think I might be the opposite, though. Probably the youngest brother in me, I only feel better if I feel bigger.”

You think that might be why he’s always trying to one up you - sassy comments and inappropriate jokes galore. Not that you mind any of it, not really.

“What about you? What movies do you like?”

“You’re gonna be so shocked.”

“Sports movies?”

“Look at you, knowing me like the back of your hand.” He coos, nudging at your knee with his hand. “I’ll watch anything, though. We should take it in turns, whenever it’s just us,” he says like the thought of spending time alone with you has only just crossed his mind. “Picking a movie to show each other.”

You think there’s a lot of yourself in the media you consume. The movies you watch, the music you listen to, and sharing those things with Luke feels like giving him the only other key to a high security vault. It’s something you’ve avoided so far - letting him play his songs in the car, avoiding making any sort of pick in the group movie nights. It’s daunting, and it’s a lot of pressure, and so you don’t know why you agree with so much ease - a shrug, and a casual muttering of, “Sure, why not?”

The pieces of your dynamic slowly start to slot together, and you start to realise why you’ve been entertaining his company so often, lately. Why your mood so quickly de-escalated itself, earlier. Why you’ve found yourself curled up on the same couch as him, instead of literally anywhere else in the house, doing anything other than this. Why you’re so quick to agree to letting him access all these unseen parts of you.

And why you think he might be able to read your mind, after he asks, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Only if I get to ask one back.”

“What were you gonna do tonight, if you were on your own?”

Thank God, you think, your heart jumping at the thought of anything else he could have asked.

“I was gonna do a sheet mask and steal the bottle of wine Quinn stashed behind the laundry detergent.” You admit with a nonchalant shrug, the plans you had been looking forward to all day seeming mundane in comparison to this. “Why’d you stay behind? You love Zach Bryan.”

“I love sheet masks and stolen wine, too.”

Your lips curve up before you get the chance to huff at his non-answer, and you feel your throat go a little dry at the way his curve, too - the way his green eyes darken when they meet yours, and you feel like he’s looking straight through you.

It’s around half way through the movie that you realise how much you’re enjoying yourself - when you look over at Luke, and the light from the screen is still bouncing off the sticky white sheet plastered to his face, only just able to make out his round eyes through the little slit in the fabric. 

You sip at your wine to hide your smile, and turn your attention back to the TV until Luke nudges at your feet with his, and your eyes meet over the tops of your bent knees. 

“You tell anyone I did this, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Your laugh ripples through every inch of your upper body, rumbling up from your belly and manifesting itself in shaking shoulders, your smile wide and your sheet mask slipping out of place. “You can’t threaten me with a good time, Hughes.”

You spend the rest of the night trying not to think about how there might just be a tiny door in your heart, eking it’s way open for him to squeeze his gangly limbs into.

>PART TWO<

another a/n: I don't want to put a timeframe on when the next part will be posted bc as soon as I do that, my brain will revolt and it won't happen, but I'd love to know your thoughts in the meantime!!! I have a lot of the rest actually written, and what I don't have written, I have drafted, so it shouldn't be too long but!!! like I said no timeframe!! I've had a lot of fun with this dynamic, and hearing any opinions would mean a lot to me!!

this was my first time writing reader insert if you saw any instances of she/her where they shouldn't be, no you didn’t. I tried as best as I could to avoid using Y/N because it takes me out of it I don’t even remember if I put it anywhere but sometimes it's hard to get around I did my best ok!!!

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter five

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a day trip to ibiza, a nightclub, and max—who can't keep his mouth shut. (5.3k)

a/n: apologies for the lack of new chapters these past few months! writer’s block is such a bitch but i’m happy to say that i am back and working on this series as best i can <3

previous chapter | masterlist

Everything people say about time flying when you’re having fun has never been truer. You’ve developed a close friendship with Lando and his friends, and something even better with the boy himself. 

You’d say you were surprised at how fast you’ve fallen for him, but you’d be lying. Sure, you haven’t known him long at all, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that Lando Norris really was that missing thing in your life. He slots in like he was meant to, just as you hoped he would. 

You’ve all found yourselves spending more time at their place than yours because it’s just nicer. Today is no different. 

Lando’s chin sits hooked over your shoulder comfortably, stubble on his face a little scratchy, but it doesn’t annoy you. Especially not with the way the thumb of his hand on your waist is rubbing circles into the sliver of bare skin between your top and shorts.

He’s warm to the touch, but not unbearably so, more like a comforting warmth draped against you as he nuzzles closer. 

He likes to be close to you, you've learned very quickly—more often than not always having some part of him touching you. Fingers intertwined with yours, an arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your waist. When you're sitting, it's a thigh pressed against yours, a warm palm blanketing your knee. 

Right now, he’s decided on sharing the same sun lounger as you, wedged himself in behind you comfortably.

Normally, you might’ve been put off by the sheer amount of casual physical affection he shows, but you can’t bring yourself to mind it. You want to be close to him all the time too, you’re just taking a little longer to warm up to instigating it. 

“What’re you lot up to tomorrow?” He asks casually, walking his fingers down your arm. 

“Mm, nothing probably. Might just do a beach day and chill out. Maybe take a little walk, I dunno.” You shrug. “You?” 

“Flying to Ibiza for the day. My mate Martin’s doing a DJ thing at a club there, figured we’d go support a friend.” 

You pout up at him, cooing. “You guys are so sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Come off it now.” He rolls his eyes, pinching your hip. You squirm at the ticklish feeling, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He perks up then, and you swear you can almost see the gears turning in his brain. “Would you guys wanna come with us? We could hit up the beach together, hit up Martin’s gig at night, then fly back here afterwards.”

“It’s a boys’ day trip, we wouldn’t want to crash it,” You insist, shaking your head. “We’ll see each other when you get back.” 

“But I’ll miss you.” He frowns, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

“I think you’ll be fine.” 

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck, muffling his response. “No, I think I might die.”

It’s kind of sweet, you think, that Lando gets so pouty over not getting to see you for just a day. One might call him clingy, but you find it cute.

You attest it to the two of you still being in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, and it makes you happy, but something else gnaws at your stomach. You’re not even sure what it is. 

Before you can say anything, he angles his head towards the rest of the group, covering your ears gently before shouting, “Oi! We’re all going to Ibiza tomorrow, it’s been settled already. We’ll swing round yours to pick you girls up, then head to the airport.” 

He gets no objections from anyone, which you didn’t think he would, and it makes him beam. 

You try to see it from his perspective. Sun, sand, beautiful views. The two of you get to spend the day together on the gorgeous beaches of Ibiza. If you put aside your worries, everything sounds wonderful.

So why do you have this nagging feeling this isn't going to go as smoothly as Lando says it will? 

-------

It seems like you’ve just blinked and suddenly it’s the next morning and you’re heading into the hangar of a private airstrip.

The sun has barely begun to peek over the horizon, and honestly, you’re still half asleep. Most of your weight is leaned against Lando’s shoulder, who’s got a strong arm slung around your waist even as he chats away with his boys on the way in. 

You haven’t packed much at all, just a bag with a nicer outfit you can change into before going to the club. Lando insisted on carrying it for you, so it sits looped over his other shoulder. 

You aren’t sure what you were expecting when he’d brought up flying to Ibiza just for the day, but for some reason, the private jet your gaze lands on as soon as you enter the hangar has you a bit stunned for words. The unfamiliarity of your surroundings wakes you up even more as you ascend the stairs onto the jet. 

A long sofa stretches across the wall opposite you, sleek white leather to match the cushy armchair you’ve settled into. Elegant polished dark wood tables separate the banks of chairs, and there’s a fully stocked bar at the back. Even the lighting of the cabin screams money, not those awful dim blue lights on commercial airlines. 

This is the kind of thing you’ve only seen in movies, and now here you are about to enjoy a few hours on one with your very new, very rich boyfriend. It feels unreal, and honestly a little daunting.

Then in the back of your mind, you remember that this is probably just how his life is. Private jets and day trips to beautiful places, anything he wants anytime he wants it. 

It’s one of two thoughts echoing through your head through the whole flight, the second one being that you don’t belong here. You don’t ride along in chartered jets, or go on impromptu day trips to beautiful islands. This is all completely uncharted territory for you and it makes your stomach twist, but you’re able to just pass it off as being a nervous flier. 

Lando holds your hand, makes sure you’re comfortable the whole time, and that’s that. There’s no need to worry him about what’s running rampant through your mind. 

Thankfully, you fall asleep not too long into the flight, and you don’t wake up until you’re on the ground in Ibiza. From there, it feels like a whirlwind has taken hold of you. You’re put into a car, driving, driving, driving god knows where. 

Lando won’t tell you a thing, just kisses your cheek and tells you not to worry. And just when you think you’re at your destination, you’re squeezed into a golf cart that eventually drops you off at a seemingly private marina. 

A large yacht sits before you, pristine white and polished to perfection. Lando beams, holding his arms out to the side like a game show host. “Ta-da! Look what we got for the day!” 

You’re at a loss for words. When he’d agreed to a joint beach day, you thought you’d actually be going to…well, a beach. 

“How the fuck did you manage to charter a yacht on such short notice?” Maren asks, clearly disbelieving. 

Lando aims a look at her over his sunglasses, arching a brow. “What, like it’s hard?” 

“Don’t do Elle Woods. You can’t pull it off,” Samira chimes in, to which Max nods his agreement. 

“Everyone’s a critic nowadays,” Lando mutters under his breath, flipping both of them off. “Just get on the boat, dream killers!” 

Your friends seem to be taking it in a much better stride than you are, because they go exploring the moment they climb right on alongside the rest of the boys, chattering excitedly. You, on the other hand, have to take a moment after Lando helps you on. 

“So? What do you think?” He asks earnestly, rocking on the balls of his feet. 

“It’s gorgeous,” You admit, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t know you were planning on getting a yacht.” 

“Yeah, I got it so we could have the day to ourselves. Dock somewhere remote, swim and have fun without anyone else around. I know how important privacy is to you, and I wanted you to be able to relax today.”

It hits you like a heavyweight right then. Lando did this for you. 

Went through all these last minute hoops that probably cost a fortune just so you’d feel comfortable. It has to be the sweetest, albeit most outrageous, thing anyone’s ever done for you. 

You close the distance between you in two steps, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. The force of it makes him stumble back a little bit, but he’s quick to recover, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck with a smile you can feel pressed against your skin. 

“That was one hell of a thank you,” He breathes. You shrug innocently and he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Ready to have some fun?” 

Turns out fun means putting an anchor down just off the shore of some small island not too far away. The day is starting to heat up a bit, perfect for you and the girls to stretch out on the cushioned benches and soak up the sun whilst the boys mess around in the water off the back of the boat. 

You’re not sure how long you lay there, but you’re about ready to drift off when you feel something on your face. A drop of water hits you square in the forehead, another hits your cheek, and it makes you peek one eye open. 

Lando stands right above you, beaming down at you as he drips water everywhere.

“Hi. Water’s nice,” He says, shaking his hair out not unlike a dog would shake out its fur. Droplets spray all over you with the action, making you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily. 

You wipe the water off your face with an amused chuckle. “Yeah, I think I can tell. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You should come in.” 

“Maybe later. My sunscreen might not be dry yet.” 

“I think it’s plenty dry.” 

You arch a brow at his insistence, suspicious of the mischievous smile curving his lips, the glint in his eyes. He’s got something in that mind of his, and you’re starting to grasp what it might be. You sit up, inching away from him as he creeps closer. “Stop it. Lando, no. Don’t even think about it!”

He flops on top of you gently, enough to make you roll your eyes but not enough to smother you. “Lovely place to have a lay, innit?” He says innocently, squinting down at you. 

“It was,” You groan dramatically, wrinkling your nose at the puddle of water beginning to pool around you. “Now I’m being crushed.” 

“Are you calling me fat?” 

“No, no, the words you're looking for are big and strong and handsome. Did I mention the word strong?” 

“Twice, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.” 

“Careful, or I might start to think you have a praise kink,” You joke. Though judging by the immediate blush that blooms across his cheeks and ears, you might’ve just discovered something about your boyfriend. “Oh! You—I didn’t mean it like—”

His lips press against yours before you can finish your sentence as if to deter you from finishing your sentence, and you forget what you were saying in the first place. You’ve found that this is usually the case any time Lando kisses you, any and all previous thoughts disappearing without a trace only to be taken up by one singular thing—him. 

“Get a room, you two!” Samira grumbles, bringing you back to reality. “Happy for you and all, but I’m trying to sleep over here.” 

Right. 

You’d forgotten you were laying right next to her. Evidently Lando has too, because he whines something unintelligible, face hot against your bare skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, giving Lando a pat on the back to make him get off you. He does so, but not without a pout. The quick kiss you press to his shoulder when you pull yourself into an upright position is enough to settle him. 

He tilts his head invitingly, eyes bright now. “Come swim?” 

“Is the water nice?” 

“It’d be nicer if you were in it.” 

“I’m serious, Lando! Is it cold?”

“Guess you’ll just have to jump in and see.” He shrugs, winks at you playfully before ambling away.

You can’t help but admire Lando as he walks away from you, broad shoulders on full display, muscles shifting as he stretches his arms high over his head. Moles dot the expanse of his back, and it makes you want to trace your fingers along his tanned skin like you’re playing connect the dots. 

You’re expecting him to head for the back of the boat, but he goes towards the ladder heading up to the roof of the boat. 

“Now what exactly do you think you’re doing?” You call after him, raising your hand to block the sun shining in your eyes. 

“Jumping off the roof!” 

“Are you serious?” 

“It’s totally safe! I’ve done it before,” Lando reasons, waiting until he reaches the top of the ladder to offer you a smile. Somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better about him taking a flying leap from that high. “Wanna give it a go?” 

The words fuck and no teeter at the very tip of your tongue, but he’s grinning so big, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least a little bit intrigued.

Jumping off the roof of a yacht into crystal clear waters isn’t something you’ve ever thought you’d do, but then again, you’ve been doing a lot of things you never thought you’d do on this trip. 

“If I die, I’m haunting your ass forever,” You warn. Once you’re up the ladder on your own, you accept his outstretched hand onto the roof as he leads you carefully to the edge, fingers firmly tangled with yours. 

“There’s no one I’d rather be haunted by.” 

He leaps, taking you with him before you can even think of a response, and for a few moments, you feel weightless, falling through the air with nothing but Lando’s hand to ground you. It feels less terrifying and more freeing than you’d thought. 

You squeeze your eyes shut just before you hit the water, keeping them closed as you sink deeper and deeper. Lando’s hand leaves yours, but you don’t panic. You let yourself float, reveling in the quiet of being underwater until you start to feel it in your chest, and only then do you push towards the surface in a flume of bubbles.

The breath of air you inhale once you get above water is refreshing, and you tip your chin towards the sky, taking in the warm sunlight with a sigh. You wipe away the water cascading down your face before paddling back towards the boat, where Lando is sitting with his legs hanging off the back of it, waving at you. 

“What’d you think?” He asks earnestly once he’s pulled you out of the water to sit next to him. 

“That was…exhilarating.” 

“See, I told you it was fun! Stick with me, baby, I’ll show you the world.” 

Somehow, you don’t doubt that. If you’re an example of playing it safe, Lando is the definition of full sending it, impulse and chaos behind a handsome face. 

-------

The day flies by, and before you know it, it’s time to head back to shore. Thankfully, the yacht is well equipped with a shower in the bathroom, so you’re able to freshen up nicely when the time comes.

Lando lets out a low whistle when you emerge back out onto the deck, eyes dragging down your whole body, drinking in the sight of you with his lower lip tugged between his teeth. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, makes your cheeks flame hot. 

“Damn, you’re hot, girl!” He grins, winking at you. 

“Stop it,” You huff, adjusting the strap of your heel. 

“What? It’s true! Can’t I pay my hot girlfriend a compliment?” He argues, looking absolutely giddy. “C’mon, give me a spin.” You roll your eyes but oblige, and he whistles again. “My god, I’m a lucky guy.” 

“You’re so ridiculous,” You chuckle, letting yourself be tucked under his arm as you make your way to join the rest of your friends.  

“If ridiculous means obsessed with you, then yes, I am ridiculous.” 

The place is only a stone’s throw away from the public beach near the marina and already bouncing when you get there. You’re expecting to fold into the crowd of people, but Lando skirts around it, heading for the very front of the giant area, towards the DJ box. 

Maren’s hand clamps around your arm, squeezing tightly. “That’s Martin fucking Garrix!” She hisses, jutting her chin towards the stage aggressively. “You didn’t tell us Lando’s friend Martin was Martin fucking Garrix!” 

“He didn’t even tell me, how was I supposed to know?!” is all you can utter back in response. 

You’re just as taken by surprise as she is. You’d have never expected Lando’s friend Martin to be Martin Garrix. It’s not a connection you would’ve made at all, but you keep forgetting Lando is actually famous. Of course he has famous friends. 

Martin gestures for one of the other people there to take over the set, swapping out to come say hello as soon as he spots Lando. Both boys sport identical massive smiles. 

“Mate, it is good to see you again,” He says earnestly, bringing Lando into a tight hug. “I’ve been meaning to make it out to a race! You look great out there, though.” 

Lando shrugs, enthusiasm flickering a little at the mention of work, but only for a split second. “Could be doing better, but yeah, cheers!” 

Martin’s eyes flick over to you and he must get the sense that you’re a little nervous, because his smile turns more polite. “See you’ve made some new friends. Nice to meet you all, I’m Martin.” Then he notices how Lando’s moved closer to be next to you and you’re sure he’s already got things figured out. “Enjoy the set! I’m sure Lando will take good care of you.” 

A few drinks in your system helps relax the knot of nerves sitting on your chest a significant amount, enough so to where you’ve actually started to enjoy yourself. 

Lando’s hands slide around your waist from behind to sit at your hips, chest pressed up against your back as his chin drops down to nestle in the crook of your neck. He moves with the beat and you find yourself following, guided by his firm grip.

It’s so easy to get lost in him. You want to let yourself get lost in him, let yourself sink back into him and let your inhibitions free. But you can’t. 

Anyone can see you right now, seeing as you’re not exactly in a private place. You’re tucked off to the side, partially obscured by Martin’s booth and entourage, but it wouldn’t be hard for someone to take a good look and recognize Lando, even with the smoke and flashing lights. 

It’s risky to stay like this, and you want to tell him that, but then his lips press against the skin of your shoulder tenderly and your brain nearly short circuits. Heat blooms where he kisses you, traveling up to your cheeks and down to your toes like you've just been standing too close to a flickering fire. 

It isn’t until his nose nudges in right behind your ear, and his warm breath fans across your heated skin, that you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe. The loud music dulls down into background noise to the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Taking a shuddering inhale, you wriggle free of Lando’s grip, mumbling something to him about needing air as best you can and taking off before he can figure out what’s happening. 

You squeeze through the crowd rather forcefully, just needing to get somewhere without people, somewhere quiet where you can catch your breath and calm yourself down. 

Somehow you find yourself back at the beach, throwing yourself down onto a bench and burying your face into your hands with a frustrated, strangled groan. 

You don’t even know what’s wrong. Everything is good—you’re with your best friends, with Lando, and you’re supposed to be having fun. So why do you feel like you’re not supposed to be here? 

The answer is a mystery even to you. 

Watching the gentle waves lap over the shore proves rather soothing, a repetitive back and forth that helps ease your mind just the slightest bit. Only a few people mill around at this time of night, and they pay you no notice. You’re free to drown in your own thoughts without any of them being any the wiser. 

Footsteps approach some time later. How long, you’re not exactly sure—wallowing in your own self pity feels timeless. The tips of a familiar pair of trainers step into your field of vision, and you make yourself let your gaze follow up to see the extremely concerned face of their owner. 

Lando doesn’t say anything when you meet his eyes, just holds out his hand for you to take. When all you do is blink at him, then he speaks. “C’mon, let’s take a walk.” He tilts his head over his shoulder, towards the beach behind him. 

“I can’t walk on sand in these heels,” You sniff, scowling a little bit. It’s a shit excuse, you know that, but you don’t feel like being very cooperative right now. 

“I’ll hold them,” He replies, toeing off his own shoes first. You give in almost too easily, slipping off yours to give to him and accepting his other hand up. His fingers immediately intertwine with yours, tugging you closer to him as you step into the sand.

You walk along the shore for a while before either of you feel like saying anything, and it’s him who speaks first. 

“Are you alright, love?” He asks gently. Rather than saying anything, you press your lips together. “C’mon, will you talk to me? Please?” His voice is so soft, so full of genuine concern for you it makes you start to feel bad. “I think it’ll make you feel better, instead of holding everything in.” 

“All of this—the jet, the yacht, everything—it’s a lot to take in,” You admit quietly, staring hard at the sand in front of you. “And I know you did it for me, so I’d feel comfortable, and I love how thoughtful you are when it comes to these things. But I…this is all completely new for me. Like, I can’t help but feel like such an outsider.”

Lando’s expression crumples. “Oh. I didn’t mean to—that wasn’t my intention. To make you feel like you don’t belong.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”

“This sounds like the start of a romcom breakup scene,” He says, then he freezes, brows furrowing. “Wait, is this—” 

“No! No, I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just…saying things.” 

“Okay.” He nods, looking thoughtful. “How can I fix this, how can I help with what you’re feeling?” 

You smile at him, grateful that he’s asking even though there isn’t anything for him to do about how you’re feeling. Putting it out there is already starting to help, actually. You were scared about your thoughts and feelings being cast aside, but Lando hasn’t done that. He’s nothing but kind and caring about it. About you. 

“I’m fine, Lando. Thank you though, you’re sweet,” You assure him, kissing his cheek. “Mind if we walk a little longer before going back to Martin’s set?” 

“We don’t have to go back,” He suggests. “We can stay here, go somewhere else, anything you want.” 

“I want to go back. It’ll be fun,” You say, nodding firmly. The action is meant to reassure yourself more so than Lando, but he’s the one who looks wary. 

His head cocks to the side, brows furrowing in gentle caution. “Are you sure?” 

“Positive. I’ll be fine, I promise.” 

-------

The jet is quiet on the way back to Greece after Martin’s gig lets out, with good reason. It’s late at night, bordering on very early morning, and everyone’s asleep except you and Max, who’s on the phone with his girlfriend.

Judging by the way Lando immediately found his way into your space as soon as you all settled in for the flight and promptly conked out not five minutes later, he's exhausted. 

You glance down at the boy currently snoozing away curled up with his head in your lap, one of your hands clutched between both of his. His chest rises and falls rhythmically in his sleep, long lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheekbones. 

Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever been as content with someone as you are now with Lando. Even though things between you are still new, you feel like you really can be yourself without judgement around him too. And that talk you’d had at the beach has definitely lifted the weight off your shoulders a good amount.

Still, there’s something else you have to get off your chest. You turn your gaze on the only other person you can talk to right now, the one person you do want to talk to. 

Max ends his call shortly after with a quiet love you, see you soon, catching your eye with a sheepish smile as he sets the phone down on the table. “Pietra says hi. She’s looking forward to meeting you guys when she flies in.” 

“We’re excited to meet her too, she sounds amazing.” 

“Yeah, she is,” Max sighs. Then he squints at you, like he knows something is amiss. “Is everything alright? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.” 

You nod carefully, absentmindedly winding one of Lando’s springy curls around your finger. He exhales a little harder in his sleep when you let it bounce back into place but doesn’t wake up, just snuggles deeper into you. “It’s kind of a weird thing to bring up, but I feel like I have to ask.” 

“Anything, go ahead. We’re friends, aren’t we?” It’s actually reassuring to know that Max’s opinion on you hasn’t changed since you’d gotten together with his best friend. You’re still friends just the same. That thought helps you muster up the courage to say what’s been weighing on you. 

“Are you okay with us? Lando and I, I mean.” 

You aren’t seeking his approval or anything, you just want him to be okay with the two of you. Or maybe you are, you’re not really sure. Max is Lando’s best friend, his brother. Other than Lando’s family, who you can't even think about meeting one day without your stomach churning, he's the person who's known Lando best since they were kids. 

All these people, they’re everything to him, and it's important for you to know where they stand. 

Max smiles warmly, says your name in that same soft, gentle way Lando always does when you get unsure. “You’re exactly the kind of person Lando needs in his life. Someone away from everything he’s got going on, someone who genuinely cares for him the way you do. You’re perfect for each other, and I hope you know that.”

You swallow the lump rising in your throat, smiling at Max through eyes glossy with welled up tears. His blessing brings you comfort, even if you weren't looking for it. “Thank you.” 

“No, I feel like I should be the one thanking you.” 

Your brows furrow, head tilting curiously to the side as to what he means. “Me? What did I do?” 

“I know Lando’s filled you in about what’s been going on, so you know that he’s had a bit of a rough time lately.” Max says softly, clearing his throat to rid himself of the emotional thickness in his tone. You can tell how much Max really loves and cares for Lando. “He’s not been himself for a while, so this summer break, this trip, it was something that might help him leave it all behind. Just relax and find himself again, ‘cause it wasn’t good for him, bottling it all up like he was.” 

Your heart aches for Lando. You can’t help but want to protect him. It was true when you’d been just friends and only grown truer since. 

“I wasn’t sure if it was doing him any good, but then we met you, and I swear to god I haven’t seen him smile this much in ages. He’s been so happy, so in love, it’s been—shit, I don’t even know what else I can say other than thank you. You’ve made my best mate himself again, and…I think I owe you everything for that.” 

You know there are other parts of his sentence that you should be paying attention to—being the reason Lando feels like himself again, making him happy—but only one thing echoes at the very forefront of your brain. “He’s in love with me?” 

Max’s eyes widen almost comically at the realization of what he’s just done. The juxtaposition of the heartfelt conversation you’ve had up until this point with the sudden exaggerated panic in his eyes would’ve cracked you up had you not been stunned by what he’d just let loose. “I really need to learn how to keep my fucking mouth shut.” 

“Lando told you he was in love with me?” You press. You’d kick him under the table, but then you’d risk waking up the subject of your conversation. Max just blinks at you, probably trying to figure out a way out of this. “Max.” 

“Fuck, fine! Yeah, he told me.” You raise an expectant brow for him to elaborate. “Jesus, did you want a timestamp? He said, I think I’m falling in love with her.” 

“He thinks?” 

“Well, I don’t know! I’m not a mind reader, am I?” He huffs. Upon seeing your brows furrow, he sighs. “But if I could read his mind, I’d say yes. I’ve known Lando…shit, I dunno, ten years now? And I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before. You’re special to him.” 

“He’s special to me too,” You say softly, stroking a thumb over Lando’s knuckles gently. It should feel strange how much you feel for this boy and how strong those feelings are, but for some reason, it doesn’t. It feels exactly right. 

“I feel obligated to give you the usual ‘hurt my best friend and I’ll hurt you’ bit, but I know you won’t. You’ve been a great friend these last couple weeks, and I trust you with him. I trust that you’ll love him as much as he loves you. You do, don’t you?” 

You sigh, chuckling softly. “Figured out that one easily too, haven’t you?” 

“Please, I’ve known since the day you lot came round ours for the barbeque. And both of you are shit at hiding things, by the way. You’d be terrible spies.” 

“Thanks, Max. Seriously.” 

“For calling you a crappy liar? You’re welcome, I guess?” He’s only joking, but you know he knows what you mean. Max is a really good guy, a really good friend, both to you and to Lando. “And if he ever hurts you, loop me in. I’ll give him a proper beating for hurting my friend.” 

“Oh, I will. Avoid the face though, I kinda like it.” 

Max snorts, shaking his head playfully. “Yeah, he’s got a nice mug, that one. Real moneymaker.”

The moneymaker is drooling a little bit with his cheek smushed up against your leg, but you pay it no mind. He still looks good. 

He’s actually starting to look like your whole world, all wrapped up into one perfectly flawed human being. 

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[sweeterthanficstion]

— coast2coast (pt. one) || l.s.k

pairing: life guard!leon kennedy x surfer!fem!reader

tags: surfing au! set in malibu, 1998, i wrote this with re2 leon in mind but re4 leon works too, featuring claire (and chris in later parts!), UNEDITED!! so far only fluff (unheard of...) i'll add as i go!

oh actually, my shitty attempt at knowing anything about surfing despite learning everything through youtube, google and malibu rising by taylor jenkins reid (what started this whole thing). i am NAWT a pro --- so if any of you guys actually know a thing or two abt surfing hit me up!!! i'd love to learn more!

summary: Summer is a fickle thing, sticky-sweet and fleeting, gone before you're ready. You've learnt to love it while it lasts. For you, every summer has been the same—surf, sand, salt-water tides and the hot Malibu breeze. But this summer brings a new sort of challenge, a spotlight your not so sure you're ready for, as well as a boy with golden hair, eyes as blue as the waves, and a way of making your heart rattle between your ribs like it’s desperate to break free.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: AHH HI! i'm so excited to post this one!! it's currently summer here in australia and i've been down at the beach nearly every weekend, so it was only inevitable that my fixation on surfer!leon came back full force. i have this big story all set up in my head, but i was too excited to wait to finish writing it so i'm posting it in parts!! ++ oh also i had no idea corral beach was an actual place in malibu so my version is fictionalised. just. take everything in this fic with a grain of salt i have no idea what im doing lol

i also thought it'd be really fun idea since i'm so busy nowadays, that if you guys are interested at all, you can send in little ideas for blurbs for surfer!leon, and i'd love to write them! i'll figure out ways to fit them into the story, just as little extras, but obviously no promises on writing all of them!! i'll likely just pick the ones i think fit best into the plot. i just think that'd be AWESOME!! <3

playlist⭑masterlist⭑AO3 ⭑ series masterlist⭑next part (coming soon)

California is exactly how you’d left it. Exactly how you remember it. Nothing has changed between the sand beneath your toes and the palm trees lining the scorching hot tar roads, their shadows stretching long and thin like sleepy cats in the afternoon sun. The salt-kissed air wraps around you, sticky and warm, a gentle reminder that time moves slower here. Or maybe it doesn’t move at all. 

That’s the thing about California. A time capsule—sun, sand and sky.

June, July, August, Summer melts in your mouth like a sticky popsicle, one into the next, so quick you forget what it tastes like before it’s even passed.

No matter where you are in the world, what waves you're chasing, whether it be in Oceania, the Pacific, the Atlantic, summer melts, fickle and eager.

You’ve learnt to love it while it lasts.

“Another fish and chips!” One of the waitress staff calls from the front—Bunny’s Seafood Diner has been around for as long as you can remember, a weathered little gem perched off the coast of Corral Beach, Malibu. A quick and convenient right turn off the PCH, it’s a lighthouse for road-tripping families and sunburned surfers chasing their next ride.

You flip the fryer around your wrist with a practised flourish, “On it!” You call back, before you dip the metal back in the bubbling oil, the familiar sizzle of golden fries accompanying the bustle of the late afternoon rush. The kitchen smells of salt and grease and the faint tang of fresh-caught fish, a scent so familiar it clings to your skin like a second layer.

Claire breezes past with lazy grace, bumping her hip against yours. “Heading to the surf after?” she asks, her grin as wide as the beach outside, like her mouth was made for holding sweet oranges on hot summer days. She’s balancing a seafood basket in one hand and a plate of fries in the other, weaving through the bustle with the ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times before.

“How’s the forecast looking?” You ask back instead, tossing the crispy fries into a basket lined with deli paper. 

“High tide in twenty,” Claire winks over her shoulder at you, side-stepping a counter corner like it’s second nature. “It’s gonna be perfect.”

You can’t deny that does sound perfect. After a shift as long as the one you’ve worked today, a surf might be all you need to feel alive again. You look back up at the foggy old clock on the wall—ten minutes left, five if you can sweet-talk your manager. You end up counting the minutes in your head, that familiar itch to feel the sand under your feet and the sun on your skin insatiable. 

By the time the clock hits four, you’re halfway out the door, ready to trade the smell of fried seafood for the briny tang of the ocean instead. Claire is hot on your heels, boards tucked under both your arms as she chases you across the tar road that burns under your bare feet, down the splintering boardwalk, and onto the powdered-sugar sands of Corral Beach.

The sun has already dipped far past it’s zenith, and the world feels washed in gold. Golden rays stretch out across shimmering waters, painting streaks of honey over the horizon, the heat settling into a balmy hum that sticks to your skin in a way you can only love.

You follow the shaded path of sycamore trees until the beach opens up to surfer’s paradise—a long stretch of sand, waves that swell and crash, aching to be carved into by hungry surfers. The path curves past a weathered wooden bulletin board, been there as long as you can remember, and you think it might be older than Bunny’s, if that’s even possible. 

“Wait!” Claire stops in her tracks, and you are helpless but to comply. Your eyes stay glued longingly to the beach while Claire’s squint at the array of flyers pinned up—some faded, some fresh. There’s a yoga class, a missing dog poster, and the usual surf report stapled to the corner, its ink smudged from damp fingers. But her eyes zero in on something bright and bold and new. 

“Here we go.” She plucks a flyer off the board, turning it toward you like she’s struck gold. The words Corral Beach Annual Surf Comp are printed in big, blocky letters, accompanied by a grainy photo of a surfer carving into a wave.

“Oh, no,” you groan, already shaking your head.

“Oh, yes,” Claire says, a grin spreading across her face.

Claire’s been singing the same song since you were fifteen and cutting through waves better than most kids your age here on Corral Beach. That you should be out there winning trophies and medals and 10k cheques instead of cleaning out the back of the greasy old fryer’s in Bunny’s. 

“C’mon, you have to do it!” She bugs on, waving the flyer around like some magic wand. 

You laugh, ducking under her arm as she tries to push it into your face. “Claire, come on.”

“I’m serious!” she insists, jogging to catch up with you as you head toward the water. “You’re out here every day. You’ve got the moves, the skill—everything they’re looking for.”

It’s not like you haven’t thought about it. You’ve been surfing since before you could walk. You’d grown up right here on Corral Beach, knew these waves better than yourself. You’d watched your parents chase waves like it was their religion—Bali, Costa Rica, Australia, it was their entire life. Something they loved that was inevitable for you to love too. 

“I’m just not the competition type,” you shrug, gaze drifting out to the waves curling in the distance. It’s not that you don’t want to—well, okay, maybe it is. The idea of standing out there, under the scrutiny of judges, crowds, and strangers, feels about as foreign as the first time you stepped onto a board. Surfing, to you, is about as religious as it is to your parents. An outlet, an art form, the ocean calms your restless soul when you need it most. Putting a score to something like that just doesn’t feel right.

“You’re one of the best surfers out here.” Claire presses, she does it so effortlessly. Poking and prodding, always enough but never so much as to push you over the edge. “Half the people in those comps are just there for a shot at a new wetsuit.”

You meet Claire’s gaze, hesitate, the memory of your dad paddling out at dawn or your mom teaching you how to duck dive flickering in your mind. “It’s not about that. My parents taught me how to surf before they taught me how to say mom and dad. They’d enter comps now and then, but it was never about winning. It was about the waves, the adventure.”

“And you don’t think that’s in you too?” Claire asks, raising an eyebrow as she shields her eyes against the sun.

“Maybe it is,” you say finally. “But that’s their story, not mine.”

Claire’s gaze softens for all of a second before she snorts, shoving your shoulder with her own. “You’re so full of it. You’ve got more talent in your pinky than most people out there. Just think about it, okay? It could be fun.”

You do nothing of the sort.

The second your feet are in the water, you forget all about the comp, all about your job and any other worries on your mind. Salt water seems to have that sort of effect on you. Wasting no time, both you and Claire paddle past the surf, straddling your boards in the ocean, watching as the other surfers before you take off one by one with each new wave that rolls in.

It doesn't take long before the first wave in a gorgeous set comes in, Claire’s all but primed for it. She takes off, gets into position, and pops up on her board, carving into it like it’s breathing. You follow suit as the next one comes in, and just like that, you fall into the rhythm of the ocean.

Wave after wave, you don’t stop until the sun is cotton candy pink, purple, gold. Most of the other surfers have dispersed by now, and Claire’s traded shredding the bigger waves for wading through the calm waters with her back pressed against the flat of her board. 

You, on the other hand, feel like fate is decidedly on your side. You watch as another set rolls in, the first crashing just out of reach. It peels exactly as you’d hoped, slowly to the right, so when the next one rolls in right after, you paddle with it, catch the feeling of the tide underneath you, and like it's simply second nature, get to your feet.

This is where you feel most alive. There is not a second to spare for the other noise in your head, not about the past nor the future nor anything in between other than right here and now. Nothing but the instinctual insistence of how much longer can you stay on? How much longer can you keep your balance? Lean left, right, forward. Better, longer, more, more, more.

And when you’ve finally completed your balancing act, you dance up to the nose, hovering there on the tip of your board, arms out to steady yourself like sails catching wind, and then you close your eyes and let the crash of the wave topple you off.

It’s only once you’ve resurfaced, board nowhere to be seen, that you realise you didn’t feel the familiar tug of the leash around your ankle. By the time you drag yourself to shore, breath heavy and hair clinging to your face, you see it—the measly cord trailing behind you, frayed and snapped clean.

You huff a sigh, not surprised. It had been old crap for a while now. So had the board, but it carried enough summers in its scars to mean something. A history you weren’t quite ready to part with.

Claire’s already gathering her things by the time you meet her on the sand, shaking out her towel and tossing it into her worn tote bag.

“What happened to your board?” she asks, her tone casual, but her raised brow suggests she’s caught the fraying leash.

You lift your ankle and let the cord dangle, the sad state of it all the explanation she needs.

She winces, offering you a sympathetic smile. “Ouch. Guess it’s finally time for a new one?”

It’s only when you’re halfway up the beach that you spot it again. Your board? Your board!

It’s leaning lazily against the base of a lifeguard tower, looking as though it had simply wandered off and decided to wait for you all this while. Relief blooms in your chest, and you call to Claire that you’ll catch up.

It’s only when you’re closer that you notice him.

He’s standing by the lifeguard tower, a red rescue can slung casually over his shoulder. Blonde hair catches the light, tousled and damp like he’s been in the water himself. His broad shoulders are framed by the white-and-red uniform shirt that looks a little too crisp for someone who spends their day in the sun.

You can tell he’s new. There’s a hesitation in the way he stands, like he’s trying to look comfortable in a place he hasn’t quite claimed yet. But there’s something magnetic about him, the way he surveys the beach with quiet curiosity, like he’s soaking in every detail.

And you don’t mean to stare, but you’re caught in the moment, the way he looks like he belongs there despite it all, carved from the same sun and salt as the beach itself.

You’re still staring when his eyes meet yours.

They’re blue, impossibly so, the kind of blue that reminds you of the water when it’s so clear you can see straight to the bottom, the kind of blue you could fall into and forget how to breathe. His mouth quirks into a smile—easy, natural, like he’s been doing it all his life.

For a heartbeat, the world shifts, tilts ever so slightly, like the two of you are caught in some half-remembered dream. Something stirs in your chest, familiar yet unnameable, like déjà vu soaked in sunlight. You freeze, caught like a fish on a line, just before his eyes crinkle at the corners, and he lifts a hand in a casual wave.

“Hey,” he calls out, his voice carries over the sound of the waves, warm and low, and you think there’s a hint of the coast in it—just not this one.

You blink, salt-sticky and sun-drunk, realizing belatedly that you’re still rooted to the spot. “Hey,” you manage, shifting your weight on your feet.

He doesn’t move, but his attention is all yours now, quiet and steady, as though nothing else on the beach exists, like you’re the most interesting thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“Nice ride out there,” he says, nodding toward the water, his voice dipped in easy admiration. “That last wave—you made it look easy.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, unplanned but genuine, a flush to your cheeks at the notion of being watched and noticed. You hope he mistakes it for sunburn. “Easy? You sure you weren’t watching someone else?”

“Nope,” he says, the smile widening just a fraction. “Definitely you. The board gave it away.” He says, nodding towards the board that’s still propped against the lifeguard tower like a loyal dog.

“Ah,” you say, realising. “So it was you.”

He shrugs, sweet and boyish in his sincerity. “Figured it deserved better than drifting out to sea.”

You glance down at your battered shortboard, the paint long faded from years of sun and surf. The edges are chipped, and the wax is uneven, but it feels like a part of you. “Thanks,” you say, meaning it. “Guess I owe you one.”

And before you can really think it through, the words escape you all at once. “You surf?”

“Not like that,” he hums, tilting his head toward the waves. Not like you. “Still trying to figure out how to make it look as easy.”

“That’s how it starts,” you say, a grin pulling at your lips despite yourself. “You’ll get there.”

He shrugs, a bit sheepish. “We’ll see. I’m mostly here for this,” he hefts the rescue can with a crooked smile. “Started lifeguard training last week. Figured I’d better get to know the locals.”

“Locals, huh?” You arch a brow, a subtle quirk to your lips. “And I’m one of those?”

“Definitely,” he grins, his voice sure now, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“Like this is where you belong.”

The words hang in the air, sweet and sticky like the heat of the day. For a moment, you don’t know what to say.

“Well,” you manage, recovering with a nod toward the tower. “Welcome to Corral Beach. Try not to let it chew you up and spit you out.”

He laughs then, and it’s warm, golden—like sunlight filtering through the trees. “I’ll do my best.”

He steps back, making space for you to collect your board, though his gaze lingers, like he’s reluctant to go but knows he should. 

“See you around?” he asks, the question carrying a hopeful edge.

“Maybe,” you say, the word feeling light and easy as you turn toward the parking lot.

You don’t look back, but you feel his eyes linger, and it leaves a quiet sort of thrill in your chest, like the first rush of catching a wave.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 1: Baking Cookies

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Baking Cookies (🌼)

Summary: You convince Matt to bake cookies with you, and it’s a rather… domestic scene.

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff. That’s it. That’s the post.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/n: Day 1 of Fictober and we’re starting with something sweet! The -ber months always get me in the mood for cookies, especially chai tea or matcha cookies, so that’s what inspired me. Who wouldn’t want to bake cookies with Matt on a cold and rainy day? I know I would. If you want to be tagged for all fics of this event, let me know. Other than that, I am using my respective fluff and smut tag lists that I use for just about everything I write. But if you want to be tagged for both and aren't already on my tag list, feel free to tell me in the comments! Now, I’m so happy we all get to do another October together, and I can’t wait for you to see what I’ve got cooking for you! May you all come out of this sufficiently satisfied.

Read Me On AO3!

The streets of New York are bathed in a disarray of colors as dead leaves continue to fall off the half-green trees. Before you knew it, summer had slipped away into a moment in time. The heatwave that had terrorized the city turned colder with the end of September, and then suddenly, October was knocking on your door. 

You watch the rain trickle down the kitchen windows. The air smells of roasted cinnamon and coffee beans. The billboard outside shines brighter than the afternoon sun stuck behind a sky of gray, throwing a blanket of dark purple over the apartment, and the radio has been playing the same Beach House song on repeat for the past hour. But as you look over at the love of your life, his rough fingers delicately dancing over the label on the sugar jar to figure out what’s inside, there is no doubt in your mind that this is where you belong.

Matt is wearing the maroon sweater you knitted for him last Christmas. Once the seasons start changing, he pulls it out of the closet like he couldn’t wait to wear it again. Your hands crafted something for him to wear so he wouldn’t have to suffer through the cold anymore; there are not enough words in the English language to describe how much that means to him, but you know. You always know.

He looks almost content, standing there with his hair tousled, glasses discarded somewhere in the living room, and a faint smile on his lips. His brown eyes are so soft they remind you of the hazelnut coffee you shared before you suggested, “You want to bake some cookies?”

Much to your surprise, Matt didn’t argue. You expected him to tell you that it’s not Christmas yet, and you were prepared to tell him that cookies don’t need a specific season to be baked. But his face lit up as soon as the words had left your mouth, and he was more than eager to spend the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen with you. 

“How much sugar do we need?” he asks. 

You look down at the handwritten chai cookie recipe he picked out. “Uh, half a cup,” you say. 

He nods, eyebrows furrowing in utmost concentration as his hands feel around the countertop for the measuring cups. You gently place your hand over yours and guide it to the cold plastic. 

His smile widens. “Thank you.”

You look at him like he’s the only man in the world, and to you, he is. It’s not often the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen lets someone into his heart, you learned, but you only fell harder for him when he finally did. He’s beautiful and not at all perfect, but he is all you want.

“Sugar?” Matt snaps you out of your thoughts. 

“Right,” you murmur. “Half a cup.”

He can probably hear your heart racing, hammering against your ribcage. You guide your joined hands into the sugar, filling it only half before moving over to the bowl with the other dry ingredients. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t even comment on how flustered you are, he just holds on tightly to your hands as though he is afraid you might slip away if he doesn’t. 

It is a different kind of intimacy that’s almost sensual, bodies brushing as you get a whisk to mix it all together, your hand over his and the rain pattering against the window in tune with the radio. 

The cinnamon and the chai tea mix with the faint note of Matt’s cologne on your body, on his shirt, and the scent is unlike anything you could possibly describe. You find yourself leaning closer, impossibly closer, barely stirring anymore. He’s home. He’s your home. 

“Is this part of the recipe?” Matt murmurs. 

You hum. “This step is called stirring the batter.”

He smiles against your temple. “Mh. I like this step.”

“Me too.”

One of his hands slips from yours and comes to rest around your waist, swaying you to the music. You wouldn’t dare break this magic.

“Is there a step called ‘Kiss my future Mrs. Murdock’?” he asks then.

Blood rushes to your head. You’re so fucking happy. A giggle slips past your lips. “I think that’s the next step,” you say. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He bridges the gap between you like a man starved, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that knocks the air right out of your fragile lungs. His hand tugs you just a little closer. You belong to me, the action screams. And while you would never allow yourself to be considered someone’s property, it is nice to be wanted. To be needed. To be desired like you are the only thing on his mind, and treated right. Because you deserve it.

After a moment, he pulls away. His unfocused eyes roam your face, but you know he is only listening to your heartbeat, smelling you, feeling you—that’s how he sees you. 

“What’s next?” he asks softly. 

You peek down at the batter, then look back at him. Your mind is still reeling from the kiss, but you manage to pull yourself together enough to say, “Wet ingredients.”

“Oh?”

“Not like that, you pervert!” 

Matt chuckles, throwing his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking about it.” You swat his chest. “I wanted to bake cookies, so let’s bake some damn cookies.”

If you don’t pull away now, you’re sure you won’t get anywhere tonight. 

“Is that what we’re doing?” he teases. 

You nod. “That’s what we’re doing.”

He takes whatever you give him, and does whatever you tell him to until the cookies are finally in the oven. He doesn’t waste another second before pulling you back into his arms.

“Hi,” he says. 

You smile back at him. “Hi to you, too.”

“You forgot this…” You watch as he reaches into his pocket to pull out a ring—your ring.

It was only natural for him to ask you to marry him. He’d been waiting an eternity to do so. No one knows him like you do. No one sees him like you do, and no one loves him quite like you. You’ve seen him at his best and his worst, and you love him not despite but regardless of all of his demons. He doesn’t know what he did to ever deserve you. Quite frankly, he’s not sure he will ever be worthy, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try.

Matt had gotten so used to people walking out on him before you came along that he truly believed he was beyond redemption. Beyond saving. But then you tore open the manifest of his soul, read all the pages, and you gave him your heart anyway. He has not let a day go by where he hasn’t at least tried to do right by you. To take care of you. To love you. To carry you in his very hands like the fucking ethereal being that you are. He’s so scared of losing you, he sometimes loses sight of what he wants just to make you happy, but it’s worth seeing the smile on your face when he brings you flowers he thinks smell like you, or when he gets dinner from your favorite restaurant to surprise you after a long day at work. 

Matt’s only purpose in life is to make you happy because he knows you give him the world in return, a kind of love he never thought he would get to experience. It’s unconditional, it’s deep, and at times, it hurts, but he’s learning what it is like to appreciate the life he was given.

He would steal the stars for you if you wanted them. He would die for you, and sometimes he thinks he might even kill for you. Break all of his rules just to make sure you stay unharmed. He would go up against God, even, if it meant you wouldn’t have to suffer. He would not survive losing you, and sometimes, that scares him.

It has been a long road for him, and at times it felt like he was carrying a wooden cross on his back like Jesus did, but all the suffering eventually led to a sense of peace. He learned how to love again—to love you. After Elektra, after putting Fisk away, after everything, he allowed himself to settle down. And he knew shortly after he met you that he was going to marry you. 

You wrap your hand around the ring in his hand, and he gasps softly as he returns to reality. “Didn’t want it to get dirty,” you whisper. 

Matt slips it on your finger, and it feels again like the first time he did it. “I know. I kept it safe for you,” he says. A pause, and then, “I love you… Mrs. Murdock.”

He will never tire of saying it. Not even when you’re old and gray and you can’t remember where you put your godforsaken glasses. 

You wrap your arms around his neck. “I love you, Mr. Murdock. And I can’t wait to marry you.”

The honesty in your voice overwhelms him. “You mean that?” 

“With all my heart,” you promise.

The words take a second to seep in, to withstand the doubts that are always raging inside of him, but then he pulls you in, and he kisses you again. He kisses you like his life depends on it, the delicious smell of chai tea cookies filling the air, and it’s the safest you know you are ever going to be—here, with him, and in his arms. 

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @lucienofthelakes

[lazycats-stuff]

Since Christmas is coming up, I wanted to request that Aussie reader that gets rly annoyed because he has to celebrate Christmas in the winter and not the summer with prawns and pavlova.

Just batbro getting so pouty because it’s cold and snowy (idk I haven’t rly been in snow) and hates it.

Also wanted to ask you, what season are you celebrating in? Summer or Winter? You don’t have to answer but I’m just curious.

Well my anon... Christmas is long gone, but that doesn't mean we can't have Christmas! Although I am the Grinch, but hey. Also, I celebrate Christmas during the winter, but it's been years since it snowed on Christmas... Also, this gif is adorable. And cool. And thank you all for 1.7k followers... The fact you like my writing is still a mind blowing thing to me.

Summary: (Y/N) is Australian who celebrates Christmas during the winter. He hates it.

Warnings: minor swearing, (Y/N) is grumpy, the fam is amused.

Being from Australia made someone a bit more tougher when it came to certain things. Such as snakes and spiders. (Y/N) was used to them and considered them roommates sometimes. Of course, moving from Australia to the good ol' US of A, wasn't an easy change. First one being the ruckus and sensitivity about alcohol.

While being 18, you can enlist in the army and die for your country, but can't drink? (Y/N) thought it was ridiculous. Despite still being underage, but legally an adult, he loved to sip some wine and beer... But Alfred and Bruce always made a ruckus about it. (Y/N) thought that Alfred would be on his side since Alfred is from the UK and they also drink underage...

(Y/N) has never felt so betrayed before.

Secondly, the summers were bad in Australia, especially on the coastal areas of Australia. (Y/N) grew up in Sydney and summers were pretty hellish back there. Here? For Australian standards, these Gotham summers are bearable. Sure, the summers may be from December to February. Yes, Australia has it all flipped around.

(Y/N)'s brothers thought that he was insane with how well he was handling the heat well. (Y/N) never told them that the heat in Sydney was that bad, but the outback and the central parts of Australia are hell on Earth. As if (Y/N) would reveal his secret. The temperatures were perfect...

But there was only slight issue with living in the USA as an Australian. Only one. It's a pretty big one as well.

Everyone knows that Australians celebrate their Christmas during their summer. A summer that begins in the month of December and where people are actually on the beach, enjoying the warm weather with their favorite classic desserts, one of the best examples being a cake called Pavlova.

That is also (Y/N)'s favorite dessert and often makes it when he wants to feel like Christmas is coming. Especially during the summer when he knew that he couldn't celebrate Christmas during the warm weather. That was his substitute Christmas. Winters in Gotham... Well...

He didn't like it. At all. He absolutely hated it. December should be warm, sunny, warm enough so you can go out and enjoy the warmth, maybe even swim! Make snowmen out of sand... Well, then they would be called sandmen. (Y/N) was depressed and sad, to say the least. You know the term seasonal depression?

(Y/N) felt it every single time when December rolled around. Instead of a beautiful sunny day, day filled with warmth, spent on a beach, not bundled in milion layers of clothes...

Not this Gotham winter... Not this snow either. (Y/N) absolutely hated it. Absolutely. While the entire America was looking forward to Christmas, (Y/N) was grumbling in his room, looking out the window, the way that the snow fell. (Y/N) frowned.

At this time, in Australia, he would be eating his Pavlova and his beloved prawns. That's what he would be doing... Just sunbathing. Making sandmen. Eating his beloved Pavlova... And his prawns...

He prefers warmth over this stupid snow. He would give anything to go back to Australia, to Sydney and enjoy Christmas on a sunny beach... Maybe he can take one of Bruce's private jets... Pull something off as well... But only Bruce is allowed to even use them and has numbers of the pilots...

And where is (Y/N) going to find a pilot? Craigslist?

Hell no.

So he quietly puts up with it. December, with January and February, are the hottest months in Australia... And here, on the other side of the world, they are the coldest.

And that's why (Y/N) was moping the kitchen while the rest of the family decorated the tree. He hated this festive feeling in this cold weather.

His Australian mind couldn't comprehend this. Just... Happy in the cold? What is that type of bullshit?

" (Y/N)? Why are you moping? And why do you look so sad, as if someone killed something you enjoy? " Bruce asked as he came into the kitchen, getting a cup of coffee.

" Someone did kill something I enjoy. " (Y/N) muttered.

" Oh? " Bruce asked, smile appearing behind his mug, knowing exactly what (Y/N) was talking about, but choose to stay quiet about it. " And what that might be? " Bruce asked, making (Y/N) scoff.

" You know exactly what I mean B and what makes me so pissed during this winter. " (Y/N) grumbled, crossing his arms.

" Well, it's not my problem that Australia is so messed up. " Bruce said and (Y/N) raised his eyebrows.

" The hell is that supposed to mean? " (Y/N) asked, not sure to be offended or amused, since Australia is pretty weird, that much was true.

" The seasons are all twisted. Australian summer is in the winter months, the winter is in summer months... You get my gist. " Bruce said and (Y/N) scoffed. " And besides, what is so bad about snow? " Bruce added, making (Y/N) scoff even louder.

" What is so bad about snow? It's cold, it melts, it's not fun, it's gross... Do you want me to keep going? It's better when I was back in Australia, celebrating it on the beach, in the sand... " (Y/N) stated and Bruce laughed, ruffling (Y/N)'s hair.

" I know, I know. But it's not that bad here. Snow is not that bad. Sure it is the pure opposite of sand and it's warmth during the summer. You can make snow angels, snowmen, throw snowballs at your brothers... " Bruce said, trying to appease to (Y/N).

" Well, I can't go swim can I? Everything is cold and frozen. I can't do anything in the snow. I can only freeze to death and stay inside. " (Y/N) grumbled, still not happy with this type of Christmas. " It's bullshit. That's what it is. "

" You are lucky that Alfred isn't here, otherwise you would have gotten an Alfred glare for that swearing. " Bruce said, sipping more of his coffee. " Also, is some sort of coldness really that bad? Is snow that bad? " Bruce asked, making (Y/N) laugh.

" For an Australian, snow on Christmas is sacrilegious. Like, a cardinal sin. We celebrate the Christmas on our beaches, during hot weather. Not during this snow and winter... Complete and utter bullshit this is."

" You just need to adjust. " Bruce said and (Y/N) rolled his eyes, just as everyone else walked in.

" Oh (Y/N), snow is not that bad on Christmas. " Jason stated.

" It is! " (Y/N) retorted.

Tim and Dick chuckled and Damian shook his head in amusement.

" I can't believe that you can't understand me! " (Y/N) whined and Damian chuckled quietly.

And that's how the evening was spent, teasing (Y/N) about his hatred for snow. And they even let (Y/N) put the star on the top of the tree.

" Come on, lets watch Home alone. " Bruce said, patting a spot on the couch next to him. (Y/N) laughed sarcastically, but he complied, making sure to wrap himself in a warm blanket, making sure to have his beloved Pavlova nearby. "

" I want my prawns tomorrow. " (Y/N) stated out of nowhere, making everyone laugh.

" Of course, I'll get some for you. " Bruce said, putting his arm over (Y/N)'s shoulders, making sure to bring him closer, to try and give him some comfort.

" Wait, where is Alfred? " (Y/N) asked, confused.

" Went home to see his family. " Bruce explained briefly.

" Ah. "

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

hiiiiii! Some one shot requests for Pazzi! I love seeing Paige hurt and azzi comforting so anything like Paige being sick and Azzi there for her, Paige getting hurt in practice and Azzi worried, Paige getting benched and Azzi supporting her❤️

hi hi, thank you for all the reqs!! i swear sometimes you guys live in my brain, one of the other two will be present in the upcoming chapters, but here’s this for now 🤭

fever dreams (bonus chp)

summary: paige is sick so azzi takes a surprise visit to uconn to comfort her.

cw: just fluff

a/n: sry this is so short, i wrote this at the beach so it’s not really formatted or spell checked sry!!

paige's pov:

my head spins as i open my eyes, immediately regretting my decision. an ache throbs in my head, my throat feels like sandpaper, and every muscle in my body feels tender.

i hadn't been feeling good after practice yesterday, but i had attributed it to the usual pains of conditioning. i knew it was gonna take some getting used to, but this was a different kind of pain.

i swept my sheets over my legs, trying to take my first step. my foot hits the ground, and i become aware of how warm my skin is. a chill runs through my skin, my bones ache at the weight of my body.

i can't ignore it anymore, i'm definitely sick.

a sharp dread works its way through my stomach, relentless and unforgiving. i feel nauseous at the thought of telling coach i had to miss practice already.

it's only been a few weeks into summer workouts with the team, and i'm already gonna get benched. coach is going to kill me. i squint at my phone, the brightness sending a searing pain through my head.

a few missed calls from mom, a couple of insta dms, a handful of texts from my teammates. but my heart sinks when i see no messages from azzi.

my first instinct is to call her, to let her voice soothe my sickness through the phone. just the thought of her soft cadence coats my mind like cough syrup down my throat.

god, i wish she was here.

it's only really been a few weeks since i left minnesota but i couldn't help but feel like we were drifting day by day. she'd called me the first few nights, but things felt different. we were still us, just muffled through the static of my phone.

i know i should've told her i'm sick, but part of me hopes she'll reach out first. i shoot a quick text to geno then close my eyes, hoping to drift away from the pain.

i fall asleep quickly, heavy with sickness. my sleep is light, burdened by the fever and chill of my body. my fever makes me kick the sheets off, just to immediately put them back on after my skin chills.

a soft knock pulls me from my feverish haze, and i blink slowly. all the light in my room has dimmed as the sun cast it's final warmths from outside. i drag myself to the door, every step a conscious effort.

when i open it, i squint in disbelief. azzi stands there, or at least i think she does. worry flickers through her expression as she scans my body. my head feels fuzzy, the edges around her features softened, blurred.

am i dreaming? this can't be real.

"azzi?" i whisper, my voice barely audible. "what-" my throat aches, voice cracking at the first syllable.

even in my dreams, i'm still nervous around her.

i reach out, half-expecting my hand to pass right through her. my fever must be worse than i thought, conjuring up the one person i've been longing to see.

please be real. please be mine for a day.

my hand reaches her forearm, solid and warm. a rush of gratitude wades over me, and for a moment, the pain ceases.

she's here. she's actually here.

"oh honey," she calls out empathetically, "is it that bad?" she pulls me in for a hug, squeezing at my waist. the cool touch of her fingers against my back is soothing, like she carried acetaphetamine under her fingertips.

i didn't realize how much i needed this until now.

i lean into her, resting my cheek on her shoulder. i turn my head, burrowing myself into her neck. i take a deep breath, inhaling her scent. a sweet familiar vanilla and something else uniquely her. my voice muffled by her skin as i speak, "are you real?"

i feel her laugh at this, "yeah, paige. i'm really here," she says, her voice soft but clear. "your mom called me. she said you were sick and all alone."

my heart races at the thought of my wellbeing being her catalyst to come all this way. i imagine her packing a bag, careful and deliberate. reading on the plane, asking my mom for directions, knocking at my door.

she came here for me. she dropped everything and came to see me.

"let's get you back to bed," azzi says softly, wrapping an arm around my waist to hold the weight of my body. she sets me down on my bed, her eyes carefully scanning my movements as i tuck myself in. i pull the sheets over my chin, looking up at her.

she's so pretty, so kind.

she reaches the back of her hand to my forehead, pressing softly for a moment. "you're burning up," she says empathetically. "i'll be right back okay?"

i almost want to reach out and pull her close, tell her she’s the only thing i need. but i let her go, she grabs something from her bag and walks towards the bathroom.

when she returns she places a cool cloth on my head, holding my cheek in her hand. the cloth is nice but it’s her touch that’s really soothing. her careful, loving hands both soothes and brings a new ache to my body.

i worry i’ll never be cured from the ache of needing her.

“thanks az,” i whisper, giving her a soft smile. “mhm,” she hums, “do you want some tea? it should help your throat.”

“oh you don’t have to-” i start, but she’s already heading for the sink.

“do you want lemon or no?” she calls out from the kitchen. i’m impressed, she really thought of everything.

“sure,” i croak out, trying not to strain my voice. in the few short minutes she’s gone, i feel my eyelids grow heavy. i lay my head down, slowly drifting back to sleep.

azzi’s pov:

i pour the hot water into the cup, letting the tea seep. i wrap my hands around it, taking in its warmth.

i walk out towards her, talking to myself, “i brought green tea too but it has caffeine and i figured you should sl-”

she’s already passed out, her blonde hair thrown lazily over her shoulders and face. i watch her chest rise and fall, her eyelashes flutter slightly. even in the dim light of her dorm, she glows.

she’s so beautiful.

i’m almost grateful she’s so deep in sleep she doesn’t catch me staring. i set the mug on the nightstand quietly, climbing into bed with her.

despite my best efforts, she feels the bed shift and takes a few sleepy blinks. once i lay down, she puts her head on my shoulder curling into my body.

it’s a rare moment of stillness for paige, who’s usually so full of life and energy. a wave of tenderness washes over me.

i want more of this, of us.

the depth of my feelings for her scares me, but in moments like this, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

her breathing has evened out now, a gentle rhythm. it brings me peace to know i might have brought her some sort of comfort.

the weight of her head on my shoulder sends a wave of sleepiness through me. i wrap my free hand around her back, stroking my thumb across her back. holding her tight, i let myself sleep.

…

when i wake a few hours later, i realize she’s interlocked our hands. her messy hair scatters across my chest.

we’re so close i’m afraid my breathing might wake her. i pull my other hand to feel the cloth on her head. i should change it, it’s already grown warm. plus she probably needs to take some medicine before she sleeps for the rest of the night.

i run my hand down her back, trying to wake her. “paige,” i brush some of her hair out of her face. she’s a deep sleeper, she probably can’t even hear me.

i shake her shoulder a little rougher now, “okay sleepy, time for some medicine.” she blinks slowly, looking up at me, “hm?”

“i bought allergy meds and cough syrup,” i say, starting to sit up.

i reach for my bag pulling out both. i start with the allergy meds, putting two pills in the palms of my hands.

“here,” i hand them to her, reaching for her tea.

she examines the pills in her hands, rolling them around. “these look big,” she complains, mumbling.

"paige, you cannot be almost twenty years old and not know how to swallow a pill,” i tease.

"i can swallow a pill. it’s just that these are bigger than the normal ones,” she protests.

"above average," i put the pill in her hand. "now, swallow."

"that's what she said,” she coughs, laughing.

i feel a smile flicker across my lips. "not to you," i quip, poking her side.

her jaw drops for a moment before closing to pout her lips. "be nice to me, i'm sick," she mumbles.

god, she’s cute.

hearing the rasp in her voice softens my expression “i know, honey. i’m sorry, i just want you to feel better.”

she nods, finally taking the tea from my hands. she winces as she swallows. i put my hand on her back, stroking softly.

“good job,” my hand lingers for a moment too long before i pull it away.

“do you wanna watch a movie? i have love and basketball downloaded on my laptop,” i ask, reaching for my laptop.

"how you gonna come over to take care of me then play your favorite movie?" she croaks, her voice still raspy.

"see you’re already feeling good enough to argue with me," i smile, putting on the movie anyways.

like always, we fall into a comfortable silence. i hold her close, tracing the lines on her palms with my fingertips.

it isn’t long until i feel her start to fall asleep again. she closes her eyes, “please stay,” she mumbles into my shoulder.

of course, i’ll stay. i’d stay here forever if i could.

“i’ll be here when you wake up, okay?” i take her face in my palms, kissing her forehead. “get some rest.”

“promise?” she asks, her soft blue eyes stirring up emotion deep inside me.

i wanna kiss her again. like really kiss her.

“i promise,” i whisper back, running my hand through her hair.

as i watch her drift back to sleep, i come to a realization. i came all this way to take care of her, but being here, holding her in my arms, feeling needed- it’s healing something in me too.

maybe she’s all i need.

[abookloverlmao]

THE GIRL IN THE SOCKS ON THE ROOF - JJ Maybank

Summary: save my life and i'll save yours, pretty boy. In the coastal paradise of Outer Banks, Y/N teeters on the edge of the rooftop in socks, drowning in despair, and there's Papa JJ appearing in her life like an angel.

"'Cause it's too cold for you here and now, so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater."

Warning: female!reader, triggering themes (mental health struggles, including references to self-harm, depression, or suicidal thoughts and acts), alcohol, drug, weed, swearing, etc., this will angsty as shit and fluffy, do not read if you don't want to! you have been warned, let me know what you think!

☆

JJ has no idea that he had saved a life.

well, he never believed such a thing, never believed that he was this special to think twice that the person he saved will do anything to pay him back.

And that person was Y/N, the girl in socks on the roof of a building, a tall one.

It was a summer night, the night of the Fourth of July, an hour away from the fireworks starting and here was the handsome blond walking out of the store with few beers and snacks with Sarah Cameron by his side.

Yelling echoed around the neighborhood, and the two blondes turned towards the sound, a man running after a very gorgeous girl in shorts, a top and some socks.

No flipflops, or sandals, just black socks, running down the streets and busy looking behind to notice JJ and Sarah standing there watching in pure confusion until she bumped at him.

"YOU DIRTY LITTLE BITCH COME BACK HERE!" The man yelled and Y/N picked up the bags of snacks he held, apologizing and handing them to him in panic.

Eyes wide with tears covering them, wild hair like she was electrocuted, chest going up and down rapidly, she met Sarah's eyes and shot her the most heartbreaking smile.

"I am so sorry," she turned to JJ, meeting his pretty eyes that watched hers in concern, god she was beautiful, he has never seen someone this gorgeous even in the state of panic.

Before he could even open his mouth to respond, she continued running, she was very fast, legs moving in a speed of light, everytime her feet landed on the ground, pain rushed through her veins.

Adrenaline pumping, the summer night breeze slapping her cheeks left and right, she could feel Sarah Cameron's eyes on hers and the handsome boy whom she bumped into.

As they climbed the Twinkie, JJ's mind not once left the girl who disappeared five minutes ago, he knew who she was, well... he saw her in a few parties, standing there with a drink in hand talking to one pogue mostly.

"I feel like I saw her before," he whispered turning to Sarah who watched in slight worry as the man ran past them with so much hatred in his eyes, a murderous look that scared her.

"That's Y/N, sweetest Kook with apparently a rough life," she replied wincing as another curse left Mister L/N's lips, a frown on her face, JJ's hand was on the steering wheel, feeling a sudden protectiveness towards the girl who bumped into him.

It looked like she had a rough life, especially when she was running in only socks with a man chasing behind her, his eyebrows almost touched and he watched the man in disgust.

He reminded him of his dad... but oh he didn't know that he was basically his dad's twin brother.

"God I hope she doesn't get caught by Mister L/N," she whispered in worry, guilt eating her alive and once JJ started to drive, he looked around in hope to find her.

Nothing.

"It's the fourth of July..." spoke Sarah again, and his mind went back  to Y/N's eyes... brimmed with tears reminded him so much of his, he really wanted to know the reason why she was in that state.

And the second time he saw her was on the roof of a building, John B has sent him again to buy fireworks to light on the beach, but then something caught his eyes.

Someone.

The moonlight shone down on her, black shorts, white top, hair flying everywhere thanks to the wind, black socks, she stood on the edge of the roof staring ahead, the moonlight kissing her skin and making hear tear glisten like diamonds, what the fuck.

Without thinking twice, he sprinted up the stairs, ignoring that it was a building with people living in it, rich people that would knsult him idf they saw him in, he raced up the stairs, boots clapping against the ground as he grabbed the railing for support trying not to trip

He never ran so fast, worry ate him alive as he ran in the speed of light.

Opening the door to the roof with all his force he rushed to the girl just as her feet lifted and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her back to his chest.

She gasped in surprise, her tear-streaked face turning towards him. For a moment, time stood still as their eyes locked. JJ could feel the rapid thumping of her heart against his chest, matching the adrenaline rushing through his own veins.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of concern and relief, he turned her around and watched as she looked into his eyes, body shaking with a combination of fear and exhaustion.

"You don't have to do this. You're not alone."

She studier him with glossy eyes, watched as he pushed away her hair from her wet cheeks and cupped her cheeks as if he knew her for years.

At his words she collapsed in his arms, clinging to him tightly, as if holding on for dear life, he wrapped his arms around her as tightly and ran his hand down her hair.

He wasn't used to giving hugs, felt awkward when someone gave him one ir he did, but he hugged her, the weight of her struggles and pain was palpable, and in that moment, JJ understood that there was so much more to her story than what he had glimpsed before.

"Grab my hand," she did as told, hand trembling as he gently guided her away from the edge, leading her to a safer spot on the rooftop.

She slipped down the wall, wrapping her arms around herself tightly ss the breeze got rough, then JJ sat beside her, forgetting his task and what he was supposed to buy.

They sat down together, the distant sounds of fireworks starting to fill the night sky, but not the Outer Banks yet, in 10 minutes, JJ's heart raced as he tried to find the right words to say, wanting to offer comfort and support to this girl he barely knew.

He turned to her, taking off his red hat and ruffling his blond hair, "sup, I'm JJ," he finally said, his voice soft but steady and she chuckled at his words, "And you...you don't have to face this alone. Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude, she sniffled, wiping away the tears that continued to stream down her cheeks.

"Sup, I'm Y/N..." she whispered, her voice barely audible as she pulled her knees closer to her body, staying silent for a minute gnawing at her lower lip, she spoke again, "Thank you, for saving my life and...being there when no one else was."

JJ's heart ached at her words. He couldn't fathom how someone as beautiful and kind-hearted as Y/N could feel so alone and unloved.

He pulled out the lighter and played with it for a few seconds, "I don't know what you've been through, but I want you to know that Papa J, is here for you, no matter what. You deserve to be surrounded by people who care about you."

Y/N's eyes welled up with tears once again, but this time they were tears of relief mixed with a glimmer of hope. She had never expected a chance encounter with JJ to lead to this moment of genuine connection and understanding.

But she blinked away the tears and smiled at him brightly, sitting by his side, her shoulder pressed to his as they stared ahead, "I'll make sure to keep that in mind, Thank you, Papa J," a smile that showed his dimples appeared and she felt herself go warm.

"You know what will make you feel better?" He suddenly spoke standing up and slapping his butt to get rid of the dirt, she looked up at him in confusion, wondering what will make her feel better.

"What?"

JJ smiled down at her brightly like a Cheshire cat, "light some fireworks on the beach, smoke weed, drink beers," he suggested putting his hand in front if her to take.

She stared at his hands for a hot second, glancing at the edge of the roof that she almost fell from and then back at him, she never drank alcohol or even had a puff of smoke, breaking the rules sounded like a good idea at the moment.

"why not." She put her hand on top of his watching him hold it carefully, gently, his rings cold and sending a shiver down her spine.

He lifted her and glanced down at the socks, "damn don't your feet hurt?" She laughed softly and followed his eyes down, "they are hurting now, like a bitch." He nodded in response and they walked towards the stairs, hand still in hers.

Her eyes went back to the edge of the roof again, but JJ blocked her path and pushed the door for her, "after you, be careful not to slip, I almost did with my damn boots." She rolled her eyes but grinned at him.

"You're the clumsy one."  She replied making him roll his eyes and gasp dramatically, pretending to faint while doing so, it made her laugh.

She had a gorgeous laugh, contagious that it made him laugh as well, he wondered why a girl like her would even think of trying to leave this world.

He wanted to ask, but no. This wasn't the right moment.

☆☆☆

He handed her his scandals (which led to her saying that his feet were bigger than her face) and called John B to apologize and explain what happened while she was looking for slushy flavors.

Then they went to the beach, watched the fireworks, drank beers, and shared weed, one after the other, placing her lips right where his were, he taught her basic surf tricks, and he did everything to make her forget about the troubles filling her mind.

And it worked.

They laughed, and they talked for hours, sharing stories, dreams, and even their deepest fears, water was reaching her thighs as she watched the colorful explosions in the night sky.

She was high and watching the sky have multicolor stars with so much awe, her eyes glossy and her hand waving underwater, and JJ admired.

Every single feature, the way she watched the fireworks and stood by his side, hair wild and crazy, speaking her mind in a way he never thought anyone would do so, wearing only her bikini top and shorts.

How can a person high till cloud 9 speak like that? He thought, "I mean, that's the thing, Lana Del Rey once said..." She put her finger up, swallowing, "Live fast, die young, be wild, and have fun. That’s my motto, but my dad did everything to not give me my freedom, everything, and believe it or not this is the first time I felt happy."

JJ knew what it was like, it was the same for him, his dad was a fucking asshole and everyone knew it, they all blamed that man's crime on him, and he hated that she had the same problems.

"I think we need to get out, you're way too high baby," he spoke with a laugh grabbing her waist and starting to make his way out of the water.

"oh come on I'm trying to be emotional here! Wait- did you just call me baby?" she asked grabbing his wrist, slurring over her words.

JJ chuckled, his heart warming at Y/N's playful reaction. He had been so caught up in the moment that he had let slip a term of endearment without even realizing it.

But now, with her intoxicated state bringing out her candidness, he found himself unable to hide his smile.

"Yeah, I did call you baby," he replied, his voice teasing, "It just slipped out. But you know what? I think it suits you."

Y/N's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and amusement crossing her face. "Oh really? And why is that?" he couldn't respond instead raised his eyebrow at her, showing his cute dimples that made her smile even more brightly.

"I will not tell you." and next thing he knew she pulled him deeper in the water and pulled him along, pushing him with her in, his hand wrapped around her waist to not lose her and water surrounded them.

them swimming around one another, the light coming from the moon and fireworks the only thing brightening their surroundings, all euphoric. As their eyes locked underwater, JJ felt a surge of anticipation, the world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them suspended in the watery depths.

They swam closer and closer, her hair moving around her like a mermaid, he watched as the multicolor lights flashing kissed her skin, eyes twinkling like pearls.

As they swam closer, their bodies gracefully gliding through the liquid medium, time seemed to slow down. Every movement, every touch, was heightened by the magical atmosphere surrounding them. The water embraced them, caressing their skin and amplifying the intensity of their connection.

Y/N has never seen such a beautiful person like JJ, his blonde hair shimmered like strands of liquid gold, framing his face in a way that accentuated his angelic features, ocean eyes watching her in a way no one did, it made her blood run hot even underwater, his muscles twitching as he moved.

God, he was beautiful....

He was angel. That's it, he was an angel sent from heaven to save her from the roof and make her life worth living for.

Their faces drew closer, the space between them narrowing with each passing second, but just as her lips were about to brush against his, doubt crept into JJ's mind. 

He hesitated, like he always did, his thoughts momentarily overpowering the weird feelings he felt in that moment. He withdrew slightly, his hand releasing its grip on her waist.

His wide eyes met hers, and for a moment, the silence between them was deafening, she hesitated as well, confused as to why he did in the first place, but never going to question it.

Maybe he didn't feel comfortable, she thought, JJ's mind raced, questioning the wisdom of his decision, too risky, she's high and probably won't remember by tomorrow- JJ calm the fuck down.

He hated himself for hesitating but he had no choice, she grabbed his shirt and swam back up with him to the surface, JJ followed, cursing himself for letting his doubts cloud the moment, for allowing fear to guide his actions. 

But deep down, he knew he couldn't ignore the nagging thoughts that had caused him to retreat.

Y/N, for her part, seemed to accept the situation without questioning it. Her silence spoke volumes, leaving JJ with a mix of relief and regret, as they resurfaced, the world above the water greeted them with its own set of distractions. 

The sounds of laughter and music filled the air, the festivities of the night continuing as if nothing had happened below the surface. Y/N's wide eyes met his again, searching for answers that he couldn't provide.

JJ gave her a weak smile and her, perceptive as ever, returned his smile with a gentle nod, and just before she started to swim back to land, he spoke with a high pitched voice to not make her go.

"me and my friend want to become Kooks, looking for gold, anything that will make us rich, when this world will become gentle with us, I'm gonna get a new board. I'm gonna deck it out, and I'm gonna go on a surf trip. Ride, whatever the waves take you, you know?" he said watching her stop and turn back around.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she listened to his plans, his determination shining through despite the uncertainties of their current moment.

Dreams do save lives after all.

"Do you have your passport, pretty boy?" she asked with a laugh at his determination, it made his hammering heart slow down, and relief wash over him as he thought she was mad at him at first.

"Hell no, I don't got a passport, Kookiest thing ever." he replied making her laugh even harder, throwing her head back and staring at the sky, her laughter echoing through the water and bringing a sense of lightheartedness to their conversation.

“You definitely should do that, that’s a real dream, surf trip, I believe in you,” she said with a chuckle, starting to swim towards the rock where they kept their stuff hidden just in case someone might steal them, gesturing him to come along.

“you’re saying that like I will do it alone,” he said lifting himself up and out of the water, wrapping the towel he had in the Twinkie around her and grabbing his stuff, “well you will do it with your friends, not alone,” she replied wrapping the towel tighter around her, putting on her sandals.

JJ grabbed their stuff and walked out of the rock, offering his hand so she wouldn’t slip, “and you,” he replied making her smile and glance back at him, "me? So I'm a Pogue now?" she asked teasingly ruffling her hair with the towel.

"Well, I am your friend, you like adventure, saving animals and the sea, you don't hate us, I think you are born a Pogue, besides we could really use your help to become rich," he said shrugging while opening the door to the van.

washing her feet to get rid of the sand she climbed in the passenger seat, towel still tight around her, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "Well, if being a Pogue means embarking on thrilling escapades with you and running from cops, count me in," she said, her voice filled with excitement.

"deal."

and she did become one, helped them find the gold by stealing maps from her father's office, and became a sister to almost everyone, Kiara didn't trust her which was fine, but she didn't hate her either.

Besides she understood what it was like, JJ had stayed by her side for the rest of the time, she was on his, she saved him in many ways, the jacuzzi night, she held him, they ran from cops, she stole for him, for them, got in trouble as well and she was loyal.

That way she cried with him that night when she found out what Luke did to him was the same thing her father did to her, cried with him, and held him at the same time, they were both broken after all.

The night she tried to end her life was the night she met JJ Maybank and he saved her in every way a person can be saved, she stayed the night in John B's house, on the couch, her head to JJ's.

everyone was already asleep, both of them damp after their night swim.

"I see you," he suddenly whispered, the light buzzing from god knows where filling the silence along with the crickets, for a second he thought she had fallen asleep since no answer came from her, "and?" she asked a hot minute, tilting her to the side.

His scent filled her nostrils and made her tensed shoulders relax instantly, "you wouldn't have jumped." he replied staring at the ceiling, his blonde hair falling over his eyes.

JJ's whispered words hung in the air, the weight of their meaning sinking in. Y/N's heart skipped a beat as she processed his statement, his words cut through the darkness, reaching deep into her soul, and touching upon a truth that she had kept hidden for so long.

"God knows what would've happened if you weren't there," she whispered staring at the ceiling with tears blurring her vision, she played with the shell charm of his bracelet.

"but I'm glad it was you," her voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard it, and when he spoke his voice was as soft as a feather, "I'm glad too," he had said and then she felt her blood run hot, cheeks turning rosy.

and with that, they both fell asleep, her finger hooked around his bracelet and his finger drew patterns, their faces so close at the edge of the couch, her head to the right and his to the left, noses almost bumping.

Their breaths synchronized, her scent mixing with his creating the most intoxicating perfume that ever existed, peace washing over them as they slept close to one another, safe from any trouble.

☆☆☆

They fell in love, and they hesitated to tell one another, like the night they hesitated to kiss, there was a palpable tension that's for sure, even the blind could sense it.

But the day she realized that one day she will stop hesitating was in the boat when he fell off it.

"Clear." 

He whispered and Y/N walked away with JJ following behind her, a man suddenly appeared in front of her making her call out for the pretty blonde, "JJ..." "of course, there's more of you..." he said pulling out a machete, "get down on your knees," he ordered and JJ grabbed the girl by the waist pulling her back as soon as the man stepped towards her. "Yeah, that's not gonna happen." with that, he charged at the girl who ducked immediately, JJ punched the man and pinned his arm, and Y/N kicked him right in the crotch before with the door to the emergency power locker supply.

Y/N ran towards the railing calling out for the Routledge boy, "JOHN B!" she yelled not even noticing the man approaching her from behind, JJ's eyes widened in horror as he called out for the girl.

"Y/N!" she turned around, eyes on the weapon that went flying towards her, she moved away but it sliced her arm making her wince in pain, "Y/N!" he called again in worry.

Eberhimi lifted his machete and JJ caught his wrist, grabbing him from behind, and elbowing the younger boy in the stomach, he swung at Y/N who caught his wrist and grabbed her collar, her head went to the side and the end of the weapon went right to JJ.

Her eyes widened in terror as JJ fell off the boat into the water, she bit Eberhimi's wrist before grabbing the hand that held the machete, twisting it, and she slammed his head against the glass before the wall.

And with that, he fell to the ground unconscious, Y/N ran towards the edge and called out for JJ whose face was on the water, "JJ!" she called loud enough for Outer Banks to hear.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the boy, she climbed the edge and her demons immediately consumed her, panic gripped her as memories of her own pain and struggles flooded her mind, the night she was standing on the edge.

the same feeling she felt during the fourth of July threatening to overwhelm her, she didn't do it, yet here she is standing on the edge once again.

But she knew she couldn't let fear paralyze her. She had to act. She will step off the edge, god she hoped the water wouldn't turn to solid rocks and kill her immediately, as a payback for not doing it that night

Either you face it or JJ dies. she thought.

With her heart pounding and her mind filled with a mixture of terror and determination, Y/N took a deep breath and closed her eyes tightly before stepping off the edge. 

The air rushed past her, and for a split second, she felt weightless, suspended between the fear of the unknown and the hope for a different outcome.

As she descended towards the water, her mind raced with thoughts of what awaited her below. Would the water be a lifeline, cradling her safely in its embrace? Or would it become a cruel reminder, punishing her for the choice she didn't make before?

It was too deep, way too deep, she wasn't that good at swimming either, her feet touched the sand for fuck's sake that night because she was scared!

"JJ!" she screamed swimming towards him, turning the boy around she wrapped her arm around his waist, trying to keep them both afloat. 

Her heart was racing as she struggled to keep her head above water, tried to fight her own demons that gripped her hair, feet, and everywhere and pulled her, "Please wake up JJ," she pleaded, her voice choked with tears and water that started filling her lungs, "I need you." she begged.

"JJ, stay with me." she called pushing his pretty blonde hair out of his face as she slapped his cheek gently, "J, please. Please!" she exclaimed louder this time.

Y/N's arms were growing tired, and she was struggling to keep JJ's head above water, his entire body leaned against hers desperately.

She could feel herself slowly drowning, but she refused to let go of him. Kicking and trashing around, moving her legs in fast motions, looked nothing like swimming, but kept her head a little above. She moved her legs around at a rapid speed to keep them both afloat, her heart was pounding in her chest, and she was gasping for air, her eyes burning from the salty water.

"Hang on, JJ," she said, her voice shaking. "We'll make it through this together." Despite her fear and exhaustion, Y/N continued to fight, determined not to let JJ go.

she leaned her head against his, his entire head leaning on her shoulder, "John B's coming, John B's coming." she whispered hoping he could hear her, mostly to herself, so she doesn't give up and let her demons take her.

The world really was against her huh?

Y/N was growing weaker by the second, her arms and legs were aching, and she could feel her muscles going numb. 

She slowly leaned back, her eyes growing heavy as she struggled to stay conscious, "JJ," she called his name a thousand times, her voice barely above a whisper, "Stay with me, please." 

Y/N knew she was fighting a losing battle, she did everything she could to stay awake and not let the water take her. 

She squeezed him tightly, feeling his body grow heavier in her arms, despite the pain and exhaustion trying to take over, and dominate, she stayed awake until help arrived.

until John B. arrived.

"JOHN B! HELP!" 

Y/N's lungs were burning, and she could feel the water going into her mouth as she called out for help.

"Help!" she shouted, her voice hoarse, "Please, John B help us!" she could feel herself slipping away, her body growing numb as the water enveloped her. 

She coughed and sputtered, the taste of salt water filling her mouth, but even as she struggled to breathe, she refused to let go of JJ.

She held him tightly, her arm wrapped around him so tightly, doing everything she could to keep him above water, even pushing him slightly above her even if it resulted in her being underwater.

"Hang on, JJ," she said, her voice shaking, "Just a little longer. John B is coming." Despite the overwhelming odds against her, Y/N continued to fight, her legs moving rapidly as if she never swam in her entire life, determined to stay alive for JJ's sake.

Y/N sobbed against JJ's neck, her tears mixing with the salt water, "I'm sorry," she said, her voice trembling from the cold and fear, "I'm sorry. I should've been hit." 

She felt guilty and responsible for JJ's injuries, and the weight of it was unbearable. 

The water felt like it had hands, pulling her down and dragging her away from JJ. But she clung to him, her grip growing tighter as she fought against the current. 

Soon enough, John B appeared and the pogues called out for their friend, "NO! No! No!" exclaimed John B stopping the boat and reaching for his best friend, his brother, and his family.

Y/N couldn't hear her friends calling out for her. She was lost in her own world, struggling to keep her head above water.

As soon as she felt JJ's weight slip away from her, safe and in the arms of her best friend, she let the water take her. 

She felt herself sinking deeper and deeper, the darkness closing in all around her.

It wasn't until she felt the strong hands of Sarah, John B, Pope, and Kiara grabbing her and lifting her from under the water that she opened her eyes, gasping for air. 

She clung to them tightly, using their strength to lift herself up and out of the water. She was shaking and disoriented, but she was alive.

 "Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "Thank you for saving me." with that, she looked around for JJ, and her heart sank to her stomach when she saw him lying motionless in the lifeboat.

She crawled towards him, her hands shaking as she reached out to slap his cheek, "Wake up, JJ," she pleaded, her voice choked with emotion.

"Please, wake up!" But JJ remained still, and Y/N felt a sense of panic rising in her chest, no, he can't die. 

she knew that she had to do something to help him, so she began slapping his chest, trying to get the water out of his lungs, her friends surrounded her with worry and fear rushing through their veins.

Only Y/N calling and begging him to wake up boomed around them. "Come on, JJ, you can do this. Get up!" she said, her voice quivering badly, she was always a tough person with no fear in her eyes, and now they could see the pure anger and worry in them.

"Don't leave me like this." Y/N continued to work on JJ, refusing to give up even as her arms were limp and her eyes were blurry.

JJ suddenly sat up, coughing and spluttering, water coming out of his mouth.

He looked around, disoriented, and saw John B smiling down at him, "Welcome to the land of the living, dude," John B said, his voice filled with relief. "No CPR needed, huh?"

He didn't respond, instead, his eyes landed on Y/N's hand on his chest, and then on her tear-streaked face.

 He sat up, feeling the weight of what had just happened hit him, his tensed muscles dropped at the sight of her like this, "Hi," she greeted, her voice hoarse and filled with relief.

"'sup?" he added teasingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Everyone laughed, and Y/N smacked him before pulling his head towards her chest and hugging him tightly. 

She cried silently and kissed his forehead repeatedly, whispering, "Oh, darling, oh JJ, I thought I lost you."

JJ hugged her back, burying his head in the crook of her neck, "I'm here," he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." He held her tightly, feeling her warmth and her love envelop him.

For a moment, everything else faded away, and all that mattered was Y/N and JJ, together and alive, that was also the day they both realized they were really in love.

"What the hell happened?" JJ asked, reaching to touch his wound, but Y/N slapped his hand away, replacing it with a piece of fabric.

"The blunt end of a machete," replied Cleo, her voice filled with concern, "Machete?" JJ asked a hint of pride in his voice, "The blunt end. Next time, duck," Y/N said, nodding at Cleo before turning to glare at JJ.

JJ chuckled, wincing slightly at the pain in his side. "I'll try to remember that next time," he said, his voice laced with humor, "Thanks for the save, Y/N."

Y/N shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "You saved me, I save you," she said, her eyes softening as she looked at JJ, "I couldn't let anything happen to your dumbass."

JJ smirked, but then he suddenly fainted dramatically, his body falling back onto the boat.

Y/N gasped and rushed to his side, checking his wounds, "JJ, JJ, are you okay?" she asked, her voice full of worry, suddenly, JJ's eyes snapped open, and he grinned up at her. "Gotcha," he said, laughing.

Y/N rolled her eyes in vexation, but she couldn't help but smile, "You're such a drama queen," she said, shaking her head in amusement.

JJ sat up, wincing slightly at the pain in his side, "What can I say?" he said, his voice filled with humor. "I like to keep you on your toes." she looked at JJ in pure annoyance, raising an eyebrow, "I can throw you back, you know," she said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

JJ grinned, knowing full well that she would never actually do it. "You won't," he said, his voice teasing.

But then Y/N gave him a glare that made him wince. "You won't, right?" he asked, suddenly unsure, "if you annoy me, then I will." 

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

A/N: this might be one of the most beautiful things I've written along with Fairytale, my Kaz Brekker book which you can check out on Wattpad, my account is: KazBrekker090!

I am in love with JJ, that is it, took a while for me to finish this so please do comment what you think and whether I should write a Part 2 where they kiss? Request anything you wish by the way! and thank you!

Like and comment pls!

[jeankluv]

But daddy I love him - Gojo Satoru [epilogue]

short series

summary: If there was a phrase that could describe you, it was; good girl. You had been a good girl all your life, following your father's orders and being as modest as possible. You had focused your entire life on being a perfect lady, one who could be a good wife in the future. This is how you had been raised and how you had been instructed. But your whole world was shaken when one warm summer morning, your eyes met the bold, defiant and sharp gaze of a young man with white hair.

tags: +18, female!reader, set in 1700s-1800s, loss of virginity, misogyny language and thinking, oral sex, fingering, innocent oc, unsafe sex, vaginal sex, manipulative, eating disorders, abusive parents, no use of y/n, pregnancy talks

words: 3,6k

notes: so here is the epilogue of this short series that was a gif to everyone that started supporting my works on this app. Finally we close the story of Duke Gojo and angel. I hope everyone enjoys it 💋

ch.01 | ch.02 | ch.03 | ch.04 | ch.05 | epilogue

Jujutsu Kaisen materialist

It had been 8 months since you and Satoru met again. And as soon as Satoru could walk again you got married, it had been a bigger wedding than you had ever imagined, after all Satoru was a duke and a close friend of the prince so it had been something normal. Thanks to the wedding you also learned that Satoru was not as hated as your parents had made you believe, in fact Satoru was extremely loved by everyone.

Regarding your parents, you know that they were stripped of their titles and all their property and sent, along with others, to a prison near the border. Satoru didn't want you to see them, apparently they had completely lost their minds and he didn't consider it safe for you.

Satoru asked you if you wanted to stay with your parents' house, and go there during the summers. But although you will love that landscape and the smell of that place, the memories of those walls were mostly painful.

But those memories had been locked in a box and kept far away. Now you were creating new memories in that place you called home. You had arrived at the Gojo residence in winter and for the first time you had admired the snow. And you also met Megumi, Satoru’s nephew. Although the relationship they both had was more of a father-son relationship, after all Satoru had adopted him and taken care of him since he was 4 years old.

In those 8 months you had managed to feel at home and feel that you belonged to the family. Rose kept telling you how happy you looked, how bright you were again. And you also felt it like that.

Satoru had kept all his promises, from a library that you could never imagine to a summer house where you could enjoy the sea breeze again.

Now summer was starting again and that only brought back memories of how last year you were on the beach reading and a boy with a mysterious smile and sharp gaze approached you. Without knowing very well that that meeting would change everything about you.

“What’s my beautiful wife doing?” You felt how Satoru left wet kisses on your shoulder.

“I was just admiring the view and thinking.” You looked at him with a shiny smile.

“Thinking about what, my love?” He looked at you with the most loving expression.

“About us, about everything that has happened in the last year and how lucky I am.” You kissed him.

“I think I’m the one who is lucky.” He said.

Satoru began to kiss your neck, closing your eyes and pushed your neck back, giving him more space so he could devour you. You could spend years, but you would still be addicted to his kisses and his caresses.

“You know this white dress you are wearing today is driving me crazy.” He said, biting your ear.

“I thought it was cute for our getaway today.” You purred with a smile on your lips.

“Oh definitely it’s cute.” He smiled. “But I bet you look cuter without it.”

You could listen to Satoru say provocative things a thousand and one times and never get used to it. Despite the time, you continued getting nervous and blushing like the first time.

“Satoru…” You put your hand on his chest, feeling his buildup muscles under your hand. “We are on the beach.”

“That makes it even more exciting.” He smirked. “But no one will come, you know that.”

“You can't be satisfied, can you?”

“I will never get enough of you, my angel.” He says, before devouring your mouth again.

Satoru laid you down on the cloth that you had brought to sit on the sand and left a trail of kisses until he reached the cloth that separates your breasts from his lips. With a wicked smile on Satoru's face, he grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it down, exposing your breasts to his blue eyes.

“So beautiful.” He whispered before introducing your nipple into his mouth and beginning to devour it only as he knew how.

Your back arched and your hands went straight to his hair, where they became tangled in the white hair. With each suck you felt your pussy getting wetter and wetter. You desperately needed Satoru inside of you.

“Satoru…” You moaned. “I need you.”

Satoru separated from you and smiled when he saw your state, disheveled, swollen lips, your nipples completely red and with your legs open, inviting him to enter. Taking off his belt and pulling down his pants, you felt your body react as his cock emerged from his underwear. It was hard, you could see it, very hard.

Satoru lifted your dress and yanked your underwear off, leaving you completely exposed to him. With his hand on his cock, he placed it at your entrance and with a grunt he entered you.

You purred as you felt Satoru fill you and begin to thrust into you. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you reached out, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing to feel the warmth of his skin and becoming one with each other.

His warm touch made you melt under his touch. Not only that, you become more desperate for more, wanting all of him to fill you, to kiss you, to adore you with passion. And you could see his hungry eyes, his frenetic pulse and desperate touch. He wanted you as much as you wanted him.

The shockwaves that ran through your body, made tears of pleasure run down your cheeks and inevitably made moans escape from your throat. Which luckily for you were silenced by the noise of the waves crashing against the coast.

Satoru growled your name with each thrust, his voice rough and full of intensity. The sound sent shivers down your spine, a mix of pleasure and anticipation washing over you. His hands, large and possessive, dug into the flesh of your thighs, leaving marks you would probably see the next day.

Every movement was deliberate and powerful, the rhythm relentless and intoxicating. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension in his muscles as he held you, his almost desperate grip on you.

Your mind struggled to keep up with the overwhelming sensations, each one more intense than the last.

Satoru's eyes met yours, his gaze was filled with hunger and that turned you on even more. His breathing became labored, you knew you were both close, you could feel it by the way he was throbbing inside you and the way your body was reacting.

Satoru spoke your name desperately with each of his thrusts, the way he said your name made your heart race even faster, and your breathing quickened with every movement.

His hands grabbed your hips with a possessive intensity, anchoring you against the sand that was under that fabric.

“Satoru.” You breathed, your voice shaking with the overwhelming sensation coursing through your body. His lips found yours again, swallowing your cries with a searing kiss that left you both breathless.

The desperation in his thrusts grew, each one more urgent and insistent than the last. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving marks.

You could feel the spiral of pleasure tightening inside you, his every movement pushing you closer to the edge. His name was a song on your lips, a plea and a prayer.

When your climax finally hit you, it was like a wave crashing over you, sweeping you away in a torrent of bliss. Your cries of ecstasy mixed with Satoru's guttural moans as he followed you to the edge, his release a powerful, consuming force.

Panting and trembling, they held each other, the aftershocks of their passion still coursing through their bodies.

Your chest rose and fell as you felt Satoru fill you. After a few seconds, Satoru pulled out of you and lay down next to you.

“Stop taking that medicine.” You said, still feeling your voice shaky and your body trembling.

Satoru turned to look at you confused. “What?”

You sighed and adjusted your dress back to how it was. “I heard you, with the doctor.” Satoru sat down. “I know you have been taking that medicine to prevent me from getting pregnant. And I know you did it because I was weak when we got married.” You said. “But ever since coming here, I gained weight and got healthier. Satoru, I want us to have a bigger family.”

“Angel…” He held your hand.

“Megumi has been asking me for a sibling you know?” You smiled. “And I really want it.”

“Megumi has said that?”

You nodded happily. “I want Megumi to have a little brother or sister. Don’t you?”

“I…” Satoru sighed and then looked back at you. “Yeah of course I would love that, but… you know how risky pregnancies can be.” Satoru’s eyes reflected concern, agony and fear. “What if…”

“Satoru.” You tried to calm him down. “I know the risks and I know what could happen but I think I’m ready.” You smiled.

Satoru sighed. “We will talk with the doctor and we will see, alright?”

You nodded and hugged him. “I love you.”

He chuckled and smiled back. “I love you too.”

You both hugged each other until the sun started to set down and the temperature of the day started to go down. Satoru picked you up bridal style and between laughter and soft kisses he carried you to the horse to return home. It sounded good, home.

It filled your heart with a warmth that you didn't know you could feel and a longing to return that you had never experienced. Normally you would extend your readings on the beach until the last ray of sunlight disappeared and the stars began to shine.

But at the Gojo residence, when you had to go out to attend to matters like the Duchess you were, you returned home with Satoru, with Megumi, who you could say had become almost like your own son, with Rose, Nanami and the household employees, who had given you affection and love from the first moment.

Entering the large hall you were greeted by several of the employees, including Rose, who had had a special glow for some time and you both knew what it meant.

“Ask the doctor to come tomorrow.” You heard Satoru speak.

“Duchess.” Rose bowed, you were still not used to that title and it still felt weird.

“Rose.” You smiled. “Did Megumi have his dinner?”

She shook her head. “He is waiting for both of you to have dinner together.”

You looked over to Satoru and this one smiled at you. “Let’s have dinner.” He held your hand.

You both walked to the dining room where you found Megumi concentrating on reading a book. Satoru looked at you and you gave him a warm smile.

“Gumi.” You called out to him and he quickly looked up from him to look at you both.

“Mom.” He put the book aside and ran over to you to hug your legs.

You still weren't used to Megumi calling you mom, the first time she said it you were completely paralyzed, not knowing how to respond or act, Megumi noticed that and regretted it but you told him that he did want to call you mom and then you would be very happy. And since then he had called you mom. On the other hand, Satoru was offended, since for years he had been trying to get Megumi to stop calling him simply Gojo, but the little boy didn't want to.

“I’m still offended that you don’t even call me uncle.” Satoru murmured.

You chuckled looking at Megumi. “Just give him time, right Gumi?” Megumi simply hide his face on your dress.

“A little bird told me that you want a brother or sister. But that won’t happen until you call me uncle.” Satoru challenged him and Megumi turned his face away from your dress and looked at him offended.

“Not fair.” He said.

“It is not.” Satoru smirked. “You just have to call me from now on uncle and you might have a sibling.”

“Satoru… you can not do that.” You said to him.

“Why not?” He looked at you with puppy eyes.

“He is a kid, give him time.” You said.

“Dad…”

“Yeah but why call me Gojo when…” Satoru paused and looked at Megumi. “What?”

“I’m not repeating myself.” Megumi walked away.

“Angel, did he just?”

“Yeah.” You smiled at him and noticed how Satoru was getting emotional. “Satoru…”

“Sorry, I just.” He shook his head. “I love you Gumi.” He shouted.

Megumi didn’t turn to look at him or say anything, but you knew that he was just embarrassed. Megumi opened out at you a few days after calling you mom from the first time about how he wanted to call Satoru dad but he was beyond embarrassed to do it. You found that heartwarming and adorable and seeing how they both reacted filled your heart with happiness and love.

The evening passed quickly between laughter, light conversations and Satoru's jokes and Megumi's protests for Satoru to leave him alone. You knew Satoru wasn't going to let go of the fact that Megumi called him dad and you felt a little sorry for him but it was fun to see his pout. Those new memories that you were creating with those new people that you didn't know a year ago filled your entire heart.

The next day the light passed through the curtains of your room, making you open your eyes to find the bed empty and the sheets cold, indicating that Satoru had woken up long before you. With your hips a little sore after your sex session last night, you got up to get ready to meet the doctor on that sunny morning with clear skies. Rose, like every morning I come into your room and help you.

Once ready, you left your bedroom and began to walk through the Gojo family's large house, still not getting used to all the wealth that you saw when you walked through the wide hallways, with their high ceilings and walls covered in ancestral portraits. .

Approaching the entrance you watched as Satoru walked near the large windows, his expression was a mix of concern and determination. Approaching him, you held his hand and gave him a comforting look, seeking for his agitated soul to relax under your touch.

The heavy entrance doors creaked open and the family doctor entered, whose presence attracted attention. Dr. Stone was a middle-aged man, with a kind but serious demeanor.

“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Gojo.” Dr. Stone greeted with a respectful nod. His voice was calm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the turmoil you felt inside. “I trust you're both okay.”

“Good morning, Dr. Stone.” Satoru responded, his voice was firm despite the tension. “Thanks for coming.”

Walking down a hallway, the three of you entered an office where you could have a more private conversation. The doctor sat across from you, opened his case, and arranged his instruments with practiced precision. “So what was it that you wanted to talk about?”

You both looked at each other and Satoru took a breath. “We want to try to have a child.” You squeezed his hand. “And we wanted to know if my wife, well, if she doesn't run any significant risk by getting pregnant.”

Dr. Stone nodded and began his examination with a gentle, professional touch. After a few minutes he looked at you both and smiled. “There are certain risks, though.” He said he. “With careful monitoring and appropriate measures, I believe a successful pregnancy is within reach. It will require diligence and caution, but I am confident we can manage any complications that may arise.”

Satoru, who had been watching intently, let out a breath that he didn't realize he was holding. “Thank you, Dr. Stone.” He said with relief. “We appreciate his guidance and support.”

The doctor agreed, with an expression of understanding and empathy. “It is my duty and honor to serve this family. We will proceed with care.”

With a final bow, the doctor departs, leaving you and Satoru to digest the information. The room seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief, the tension dissipating like morning mist under the heat of the sun.

“Satoru...” You whispered looking at his expression.

But all the doubts you might have dissipated when you saw how Satoru smiled widely at you. "We could start now, don't you think?"

You rolled your eyes. “Always so needy”

Satoru's eyes, electric and searing, met yours with an intensity that made your heart race. He closed the distance between you in the blink of an eye, and taking hold of your face, he pulled you into a passionate kiss. His lips were insistent, full of desire and passion, wanting to claim your lips as his alone.

The kiss deepened, your tongues tangled in a heated dance, each moment fanning the flames of desire and igniting something fervent inside you. His hands slid from your face to your waist, pulling you closer to him, the heat of his body seeping through the layers of your spring dress. You could feel the hard lines of his muscles, his need for you as palpable as yours.

Without breaking the kiss, Satoru's hands began to work on the zippers of your dress. The fabric gave way under his skillful fingers, sliding down your shoulders until it reached your waist. The cool air of the room sent a shiver down your spine as he collided with your bare skin, but it was quickly replaced by the warmth of his touch as he explored your skin.

With a grunt, Satoru pushed aside the objects cluttering the desk. His strength and urgency left you breathless, your pulse pounding in your ears as he lifted you off the desk.

You moaned softly as his lips moved to your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. His hands roamed your body, hiking up your dress until he bunched around your waist, exposing your legs. Each touch sent shivers of pleasure through you, your body arching against his in an invitation for him to continue.

Satoru's fingers found the hem of your underwear, teasing the delicate fabric before sending it somewhere in the room. You clung to his shoulders, your nails digging into his back as you writhed in pleasure, each touch bringing you closer to the edge.

With a final, desperate kiss, Satoru pulled away just enough to throw off his own clothes. Seeing him, naked and magnificent before you, made your heart skip a beat. He moved between your legs, his hands gripping your hips as he aligned himself with you, his eyes locked on yours with a burning intensity.

“You ready?” He whispered, full of need.

You could only nod, your breathing ragged as anticipation tightened within you. Satoru's lips captured yours in a searing kiss as he thrust into you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, an avalanche of pleasure that made you arch against him, your moans mixing with his moans of satisfaction.

He set a rhythm that was both tender and demanding, each movement taking you higher, the friction of his body against yours igniting sparks of ecstasy. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you surrendered to the waves of pleasure washing over you. His name was a breathless plea on your lips, a mantra of desire and need.

“Oh my lovely angel.” He said against your ear. “Can’t wait to fill you up with my baby.” You moaned loudly feeling how he grew bigger inside of you.

“Satoru.” Your body moved closer to him, wanting to be touch.

“So needy, my baby.” He said. “You want that right?” You bite your lips as he started to bite the skin of your neck. “You want me to put a baby in you huh?”

“Yes!” You moaned. “Satoru!”

Satoru's pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more desperate. With one last thrust your back arched and you felt Satoru come completely inside you. The room that just a few minutes ago had been filled with the sound of your voices agonizing from pleasure and your skin colliding, had now been plunged into a sea of ​​silence that was only interrupted by the soft sound of your breaths mixing, while you searched for it to return to normal.

“You know I love you?” He whispered against your now sweaty skin.

You smiled and touched his hair with love. “And I love you too.” You kissed his hair. “Thank you…”

“For what?” He looked at you with his eyes full of curiosity.

“For that day, for coming to me while reading and making me fall in love with you, for everything Satoru.” You smiled.

He shook his head and cupped your face with cherish and love. “I should be the one thanking you angel.” He smiled. “You don’t know how you change my life. I love you so much.”

And both of your lips connected in a sweet kiss full of love, understanding and commitment for one another. You were grateful for going out that day to read on the beach, for looking at those blue eyes, for going out to the back garden despite the warnings, for your heart, your body and your soul reacting to him. You were grateful that man was yours and you were hers.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Extra scene

You watched as Satoru whipped his tears away and Megumi looked at him with a weird expression, you wanted to laugh about the scene but your body was too exhausted to make a single movement, even for a simple laugh.

“You are going to scare her with that face.” Megumi said.

Satoru, still crying, shook his head. “Gumi, I can't help it. Look at your sister, she is so small.”

Megumi looked at her and nodded in agreement. “She is cute. Thankfully she looks like mom and not you.”

Satoru gasped offended and looked at you. “Did you hear that?” You hummed in response and Satoru walked towards you. “How are you feeling, my angel?” He sat down next to you.

“A bit tired.” You smiled. “But… she is finally here with us.”

“She is.” Satoru looked over to where your newborn baby girl was. “You did a great job.” He held your hand. “Thank you.”

Heavily you approached him and kissed him. “Thanks to you Satoru. I love you."

Satoru smiled. “How lucky I am that a woman as amazing as you wants to spend the rest of her life with me. I love you too my angel.” He whispered and kissed you again.

The kiss was interrupted by some small cries and you both smiled, realizing the new stage that awaited you.

Final note: thank you for the love and support ❤️ I have another Gojo fic called Birdie if you want to check it out, also a new Geto fic called The forgotten boy

🏷️: @catobsessedlady @zoeyflower @lavender-hvze @slashersgirlypop @tinydonkeysforlife @oddball08 @tttttttf @crybabytoru @fccxxxcvvx @augustine13028 @alwaysfreakingout @storacy

[rangerbarbz]

Professor Pines pt 4

Author’s Note: Guys I am SOOOO sorry it has been forever since i have written. Im gonna be honest i have had a ton on my plate lately with family, work, and school, but i am going to be writing more I PROMISE!!! After this chapter will be the last one in the series :) 

August 20th 

Today was the last day you and Ford were going to be spending together in the cabin. It had been an indescribable summer with him. You had gathered so much information about the creatures you discovered and were going to present your research when you returned to school. You had also been harbouring some intense feelings for your professor. Your heart told you that he felt the same way about you, but your mind brought you back to Earth. You had a habit of letting your emotions get the best of you which caused many disappointments in your life. So, for right now, it was important to stay focused on the task at hand: your research. God, you spent so much time with Ford you were becoming him.

That night after you two had finished packing, you two had decided to celebrate with some celebratory whiskey that Ford had picked up at a distillery on the way to the cabin. There was an old record player that was quietly serenading you with Sinatra in the background while the fireplace crackled alive with flames. You were both laughing at something you said that you couldn’t remember now. All you remembered was the way the skin crinkled around his eyes when he smiled and how he covered his mouth because he was embarrassed by his laugh. 

“You’re something else, Y/N,” Ford said, wiping a tear from his eye. 

“You too, Doc,” you replied, relishing seeing Ford’s sheepish grin. You took another sip of your whiskey, savoring the warm caramel taste as it went down your throat. You didn’t see the way he looked at your lips as they kissed the edge of the glass. Suddenly, your head perked up hearing “The Very Thought Of You” pour out of the record player.

“Oh my goodness! I haven’t heard this song since my high school prom!” you gasped, placing the glass down to close your eyes and sway to the song. 

“They played Sinatra at a high school prom?” Ford asked, also placing his glass down. 

You chuckled. “Well, it was a roaring 20s themed prom. It was a slow dance song. It was pretty romantic for highschool standards.” You then turned and sat criss-cross applesauce facing Ford. “So what type of songs did they play at your prom? Beach Boys, Beatles?” 

Ford sighed and shrugged. “Maybe. I didn’t stay very long at my senior prom.” 

You cocked your head to the side. “Oh no, what happened?” 

His eyes wouldn’t meet yours. “Well, my brother, Stanley, encouraged me to ask this girl I had a crush on to dance with me. Didn’t go too well.” He looked down at his hands and placed them on either side of his legs. He let out a humorless chuckle. “She threw punch all over me and walked away.” 

“That bitch!” you exclaimed. 

“Y/N, please,” Ford said, a blush creeping up his neck. 

“Well , I’m sorry Ford, but it’s the truth. I would have been happy to dance with you.” You stood up and outstretched your arm to him. “Dance with me.”

“W-what?” 

“Dance with me.”

“I, uh, don’t know how to. I’ve never danced before.” You weren’t sure if it was the whiskey or how he looked so flustered right now… But, fuck, you felt electric. 

You smiled. “You’re a quick learner, Ford. Now use that big brain of yours and get your ass up.” Ford quickly downed the rest of his drink before standing in front of you. He was much taller and broader than you. A lot more manly than the guy you had danced with to this song previously. He glanced down at you, and at this moment you had never seen him so nervous. You had heard about how brave he was in the face of uncertainty and terror through his stories, yet right now, he just looked like a frightened school boy. The confidence he usually carried gracefully was withering away in front of you. 

“So, what do I do?” Ford asked, his cheeks reddening. You gave him a soft smile and took his strong hands in yours. 

“Just follow my lead,” you answered quietly. You placed his hands on your waist while yours looped around his neck. He felt his breath hitch in his throat at the feeling of your wrists resting on his shoulders. He had never been this close to a person in a very long time.

You began to move side to side slowly for a while, gazing into his deep, brown eyes. However, he was not meeting yours. Instead, he was focused on not stepping on your feet. 

“Look at me, Stanford.” You tilted his chin up with your index finger. His eyes were finally on you; they were unsure, darting across your face. “Eye contact is important.”

“Yes, I-I suppose,” he stuttered. Why did he feel like the inside of his stomach was being tickled? Are these the butterflies Mabel spoke of?

You gave him a shy grin before whispering in his ear, “This would be a good time to dip me.” 

Ford cleared his throat, feeling blood divert to his lower region. You were so close to his neck; it was exhilarating for him. 

“Oh, okay. Do I just?” You felt his hand move to the small of your back while the other one was placed at the top of your spine. 

“Uh huh,” you reassured him. “Well, if you would actually put one hand in the middle of my back and then the other one under my knee, I think that would be better.” 

He was blushing furiously as he felt the sensitive skin behind your knee. You let out the tiniest exhale at the way his calloused fingers felt. You knew it didn’t go unnoticed by Ford because you saw the twinge of a self-satisfied smirk. 

“Okay, so now you just-” You were interrupted by Ford sweeping you off your feet and catching you at the same time. Your faces were just mere inches apart. All the air had left your lungs as you looked into his eyes, his pupils dilated. You were not expecting the smoothness at which he dipped you. It was like you weighed nothing, and God was it hot.

When you didn’t say anything, Ford started to get worried. “Did I do it right?” His eyebrows were furrowed before they raised. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, concerned. 

You immediately shook your head. “No, not at all. I just… Wow, that was the most romantic thing I’ve ever experienced.” 

Ford began to laugh as he brought you back to your feet gently, his hands lingering on your body for just a moment longer than needed. “That’s the first time I’ve had the word romantic associated with me.” His eyes then began to soften, a smile spreading across his face. Your face felt hot under his gaze. “Thank you, dear.” 

Your fingers began to twiddle with the ends of your hair nervously. “You’re very welcome, Ford.” You continued to admire each other in the silence, the tension so thick you’d need to slice it with an axe. The older man then cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Well, it’s late. We have a long drive in the morning. We better get to bed.” You blinked, obviously jarred by the change in tone. 

You nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ve been up a while,” you replied. You clenched and unclenched your fist in an attempt to bring your attention to something else. “Have a goodnight, Ford.” You walked past him making sure to keep your focus on the floor.  Ford frowned as he watched you give him the cold shoulder. “You too, Y/N.” How could he be such a fool?

[plzu]

TASM!Peter Parker x Fem!Plus-Size Reader

summary: boardwalk & amusement park date with peter (college-aged peter & reader) warnings: inaccurate depictions of what it's like if a ferris wheel gets struck by lightning idk, fluff & hurt/comfort (reader is insecure) a/n: end of summer fic that i decided to use to write a plus-size reader who will never be too heavy to be carried away by spider-man :] because why are characters with super strength always paired with dainty damsels? if they can lift cars they can carry my overweight ass ♡ wordcount: 4.3k

Peter Parker is a Boy and a Friend, but he is not your Boyfriend. Something that's usually pretty easy to remember, but then there are times where it's just the two of you, shoulders bumping against each other, when the sparks between you feel static and sweet and not-so-platonic.

This breezy summer afternoon has been one of those days, Peter's singular attention making your heart flutter up a storm. Unfortunately, it was clashing with the insecurity that had reared its ugly head the past week, and had kept you locked away in your bedroom, avoiding mirrors and people and watching mind-numbing television. Peter had shown up after one too many days of not seeing you, and successfully coaxed you out of your room with the unfairly intoxicating combination of his puppy-dog brown eyes and stupidly charming smile. You're almost embarrassed by how hard it is to say no to him.

“I’m not gonna let you let these last few weeks of summer go to waste.” He said, stepping through the threshold of your bedroom.

You'd let a hundred summers go to waste while waiting for sweater weather if it meant being able to hide your body from everyone. Instead of admitting this to Peter, of course, you just grumbled that Fall's better.

“True,” he agreed, but then crossed your bedroom to crack open the blinds, letting sunlight spill through. “But we shouldn’t wait for a whole other season to get some fresh air, Sunshine.”

Turns out the fresh air Peter was referring to was salt-licked and sweet, ice cream cones in hand as you strolled the creaky boardwalk of Coney Island. It really was a beautiful day out. The summer swelter had finally given way to delicious cool breezes that ruffled the loose hem of your t-shirt. The fattest, fluffiest clouds lazily drifted across the piercing blue sky, cotton white and lovely.

It's the kind of day that should be spent outside. Peter was absolutely unequivocally correct about that. It makes you grateful to him for once again dragging you out of your comfort zone. He’s good at that. Coming to the rescue when you start to disappear in on yourself. Usually, it melts away your insecurities, or at least pushes them to the back of your mind until they’re easy to forget. 

Today, though, this outing feels more like a date than your other hangouts with Pete, not helped by how nice he looks in his light and airy button down, buttons undone to reveal a casual white t-shirt underneath, nor by the massive crush you’ve had on him since pretty much the day you met, or the fact that you’ve secretly romanticized boardwalks and amusement parks and beaches (despite not being a fan of being at the beach, and despite this beach being in Brooklyn). So you keep shying away from eye contact, giggling nervously, tripping over your words or just keeping uncharacteristically quiet. 

“I know what’ll put a smile on your face,” Peter says, leading you towards the section of the park with all the games and weaving between raucous children. 

“Am I- am I not smiling?” 

Peter makes a show of squinting back at you and your unsure mouth, head tilting left and right with uncertainty. “Hmm…” He pauses, sucks in air between his teeth. “I think we can do better, Sunshine.” The nickname is punctuated by a brief and gentle brush of his knuckle beneath your chin that surely would have set you aflame had a breeze not taken pity on you in that moment. 

Peter settles you both in front of some game that involves basketball hoops. Bright, colorful plushies both big and small line the walls inside the game booth, touted as potential prizes. 

Peter notices you eyeing them “‘M gonna win you the biggest one.”

“What?” You laugh. “Peter, no, we took the train here.”

He’s already giving the guy working the booth the ticket needed for playing. “If whole Mariachi bands with their instruments can stuff themselves into trains, I’m sure we can handle a giant teddy bear.”

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Okay, fine then. I want the giant Spider-Man.”

Peter breathes out a laugh, eyes falling away from yours. “Thought you’d want something cuter.”

“Spider-Man’s cute,” you defend. “Like, when he does his little flips and shit?”

Still not making eye contact, he throws his head back in a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as he readies the basketball in his hands. “If you say so.”

He makes every shot, because of course he does, and wins you one large Spider-Man plush. He also succeeds in putting a large smile on your face, all your anxieties effectively slipping away so you can fully enjoy yourself as you clutch the big soft toy to your body. Jokes and laughter peel out of you as Peter takes you to play more games, and it feels so easy being with Peter in a sea of people.

“Pete,” you say, watching him after leaving the game area. “It’s not fair how good at everything you are.”

“Whaddaya mean? I’m not good at everything.”

“You’re stupidly smart, and even good at basketball, apparently,” you explain, referencing the game that had won him the giant plush you’ve been dragging along. “And you make it all look so easy.” You don’t mention that he’s cute and possibly the kindest person you’ve ever met, because that would be veering dangerously into flirty territory, and you were not about to flirt with your best friend.

Peter studies your face as he leans over the boardwalk railing, propped up by his elbows. You mirror his pose, except the plush is squished between you and the railing, your cheek resting comfortably atop plush Spider-Man’s big adorable head. Something sad passes over Peter’s expression before he finally looks away, towards the beach, where the clouds rolling in from the horizon are darker. “Nah, ‘m not good at everything,” he repeats, quieter this time. 

You frown at the minute shift in mood. But just as you open your mouth to say something, he inhales a big breath and faces you again, smile back on his face. “Y’know, I wasn’t even popular in high school. Middle school too, matter of fact.”

You raised your head, disbelieving. “Shut up. Don’t lie to me, Peter.”

He laughs. “I swear! Girls barely knew I existed. I was bullied a lot.” He shrugged, standing straighter as he recalled his childhood. “Typical jock/nerd dynamic.”

You take in Peter’s tall, lean form. Standing at practically six-feet-tall with warm brown eyes, you can hardly imagine Peter going unnoticed by girls. All this time, you’ve been picturing a Peter from high school surrounded by giggling girls twirling their hair, fist-bumping boys in the halls. Not getting shoved into lockers or getting his head shoved into toilets.

Wait.

“Don’t tell me they gave you swirlies.”

“Once, actually, yeah.”

“Oh, Peter,” you gasp, hand coming up to cover your mouth. “Is that why your hair looks like that?”

Peter grins and lightly bumps your shoulder with his. “Hah, hah, very funny. I take it you were a bully, then? Insulting me like that?”

You continue like that, teasing and laughing and discussing the upcoming semester. The sunlight dwindles, sky becoming overcast as more clouds slowly roll in, becoming flat and gray. The temperature begins to cool as you make your way towards the rides, but you'd hardly notice with the warmth that surrounds you in Peter's presence.

The ferris wheel completely steals your attention from your conversation as you pass by it, head inclining to stare wistfully up at it. The green spindles and bright red lights outlining it illuminate splendidly against the backdrop of graying skies. You sigh, and then promptly come to a halt when you bump into Peter's chest.

“Oh! That's- I'm sorry,” you stammer, giggle, and then mentally chastise yourself for giggling as your cheeks fill with warmth.

“No, no, that's alright.” Peter brushes off your apology. “Ferris wheel's more interesting than me, I get it.” His playful tone eases away the sudden nervousness.

“I'm sorry,” you laugh, “I just- well, I've never been on a ferris wheel.” You look back at it, longing. “Don't laugh, but... I always thought it'd be romantic.”

Maybe it's all the books you've read that made you a little bit hopeless in that regard, but you've always fantasized about this exact kind of date. A couple on the ferris wheel, in their own little world overlooking the rest of the park or the ocean or the city -- wherever ferris wheels tend to be, you weren't picky about the view.

Suddenly, Peter has your hand in his. You’re too caught up in the feelings of his fingers against your own before you realize he’s leading you towards the Wonder Wheel. 

“Peter..?”

“C’mon, before they kick everyone out of the park.”

You’re not sure what he means until you realize there’s no one in line. So caught up were you in your little bubble that you hadn’t noticed people had started to leave, the crowd from earlier dwindling to a few stubborn stragglers. 

Peter pays for the ride and marches you both up to the sole employee letting the last of the ride-goers off. The man looks up at you both, boredly chewing gum, then eyes the sky.

“Looks like it’s gonna rain,” he says. 

“C’man, man. We paid.” Peter replies, and his tone takes on the familiar puppy-dog pleading that usually gets him his way. “Jus’ one ride around? Please?”

You bite your lip as you watch this guy’s resolve start to waver. 

The man sighs. “That’s usually how it works, kid.” His shoulders are already starting to drop, though, but he’s still got some fight left in him, apparently, because he shocks you by saying, “I’m sure there’s other spots you can make out with your girlfriend.”

“Oh, that’s not-” you stammer, “-we’re not-”

“Please?” Peter cuts you off, more persistent, a little pathetic, and incredibly fucking cute. “They haven’t even announced that the rides are closing down. We can still go on.”

You feel your whole face heat up over the fact that he didn’t correct either the girlfriend thing or the making out thing.

The guy hesitates, as if hoping for a perfectly timed announcement at that moment. When nothing but the cawing of seagulls fills the silence, he finally gives in and lets you on the ride.

Peter helps you into one of the stationary carts, not wanting to risk swinging back and forth with the wind starting to pick up. You settle in with Little Spidey--the nickname you decided on for your new plush--while Peter takes the seat on the other side.

The incline to the top isn’t as slow as you thought it’d be, but it’s still a soothing pace. You watch, mesmerized, through the bars of the Ferris Wheel as it brings you up and up, higher over the park. When you go to swivel your head to see the other side, you catch Peter looking at you from his seat across, head cocked to the side, gentle smile gracing his face. 

His attention immediately makes butterflies lurch in your stomach. It dawns on you that you are trapped in a metal box with Peter, and the space feels snug and intimate but it makes you feel too big. You're all too aware of the way your thighs spread out beneath you, and all you want to do is shrink in on yourself.

Peter, perceptive, notices the nervousness creeping back in. “Hey, you alright? Not afraid of heights, are you?”

You glance up into his eyes, can see the dark brush of his eyelashes and count the stray freckle and moles that dot his face, and it immediately feels overwhelming. “No, 'm fine,” you mumble, dropping your gaze.

You haven't felt this nervous around Peter since you first met nearly a year ago, his good looks and easy charm making his attention all too much to bear. It was very easy for feelings to develop when he kept talking to you, seeking you out for study sessions and pizza dates, consistently lifting you up whenever you felt down. Sure, he’d disappear sometimes or show up late others, but he still showed up. It’s what matters most to you.

“I don’t embarrass you, do I?” 

Despite the lighthearted tone, your eyes widen at the change in topic and you look back at him. “What? No, why would you say that?”

He’s grinning at you, but his hand comes up to his chest in mock pain. “Just that you were so quick to deny being my girlfriend down there. It kinda hurt.”

You try to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. “N-no, of course not! I just didn’t want you to feel embarrassed.”

The smile falls from his face, replaced by a confused knit of his brow. “Why would I be embarrassed?”

You snort. “Are you serious? Look at me.”

“I am lookin’ at you.” He’s frowning, utterly earnest.

“I’m jus’ not, like… girlfriend material, y’know? It’s happened before. Usually whatever guy I’m hangin’ out with gets all annoyed that anyone would even suggest such a thing.” You chuckle, trying to keep the mood light, trying to keep the pain out of your voice. It doesn’t hurt much now, anyway; Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it can dull it some.

Something furious flashes across Peter’s face, darkening his eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this expression on him, the clench of his jaw, the quiet seething in the knit of his brow. He’s angry.

You’re about to apologize for upsetting him when he beats you to it. “I’m sorry anyone ever made you feel that way. Sounds like they were lousy, didn’t appreciate what an amazing person you are. Smart and funny and beautiful.”

The ferris wheel slows to a stop, leaving you cradled at the top of the Wonder Wheel, finding it difficult to catch your breath under the weight of Peter’s earnest gaze. Sometimes, like right now, his attention makes you ache because of how badly you always want it, convincing yourself that you don’t deserve it, or that it’s some kind of joke, too good to be true. Having Peter as just a friend is already special, but that craving for something more always kicks in and it feels like drowning.

“Pete,” you breathe, “that’s not fair.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“You can’t- you can’t say stuff like that to me. It’s too nice.”

“But it’s true.”

When did he get so close? He’s leaning forward, forearms propped on his thighs, and you somehow find yourself pulled in by the gravity of his sincerity. You lose yourself in his eyes, chocolate quartz and tender. The scent of the sunscreen you made him wear fills the space between you, all warmed out by the day, baked into his skin. His lips are slightly parted, practically inviting…

Sudden bright light fills the sky, making the two of you rip away from each other. You look out and see the storm coming in heavy from out on the beach, rain pelting into the ocean and onto the now-empty shores. The clap of thunder that follows rattles you, making the ferris wheel shutter.

When you look back at Peter with wide-eyed terror, he’s attempting to peer down through the cage of the gondola. “Okay, he’s- he’s gonna get us down.” He looks back at you, attempts to soothe with a smile as the gondola jerks forward towards its unhurried descent. 

“Here.” Peter leans forward to grab Little Spidey and places him in your arms. “Jus’ hold on to that and we’ll be off this thing before y’know it.” He goes back to looking through the grate, fingers of one hand curled around the metal frame.

You automatically clutch the plush to your chest but then immediately feel overcome with flustered embarrassment. “Wh- I’m not a little girl, Peter!”

“What?” He glances away from the storm to look at you. “No, no I know,” he scrambles. “It’s just, you looked so scared-”

“I’m fine! I’m not scared-”

Lightning strikes down right then next to the ferris wheel, much too close for comfort, and you scream and flinch and bury your face against Little Spidey.

“Shit.” 

The ferris wheel shutters and moans to a stop. You peek up and notice the lights of the machine are no longer on. Peter looks agitated as he stares down through the grate. Your heart drops -- you’re stuck. You’re stuck in the middle of the storm, suspended however-many feet in the air -- at least a hundred -- and you don’t think you’ve ever been more scared in your life. 

Well, you think, looking out at the rest of the park, at the brutal skies, and then finally at Peter’s profile. At least the view’s not so bad.

Another clap of thunder rumbles overhead and around you, rain beating down mercilessly against your encasement. The ride creaks. Something’s wrong. You can tell by the change in Peter’s eyes. He may have been somewhat nervous this whole time, trying to put on a brave face for you, but there was a certain flash of fear that dashed across his eyes just now. You get the sense he’s realized something you haven’t yet. 

Maybe it’s that you were gonna die here. 

“No, we’re not dying here!”

Oh. You hadn’t realized you said that out loud. 

The unmistakable sound of groaning metal makes your heart stop. The gondola lurches slightly, slowly starts to tilt to the side. Did it come loose?

You shout Peter’s name through the downpour.

Despite the little space, Peter positions himself to stand at a bit of a crouch between the seats of the cart. One hand holds onto the metal slats while the other presses against the ceiling above for leverage, and he starts to kick at the door of the gondola. Once, twice, and it flings open at the third impact and out into the wind. 

Each kick had shaken the whole cabin. You sat extremely still, watching the whole thing, terrified that any sudden movement on your end would speed up this thing's fall.

Peter perches at the new opening, body leaning halfway out so he can grab onto a part of the still-standing rim, which doesn't seem to be falling apart the way everything on this side of the cart seems to be.

Peter holds out his free hand to you, palm up. He calls your name. “C'mon! Take my hand!”

You look at him like he's out of his damned mind. There's no way Peter, with his gangly long limbs, had any hope of lifting you out of here. Fear is the only thing that stops a manic laugh from warbling out of your throat.

“You gotta trust me, Sunshine.”

You stare at his outstretched hand, then glance up to his face, see the desperate plea in his eyes. It shatters your heart. He’s practically halfway out of the cart, can probably get down safely from here. But if you grabbed his hand, you’re worried you’d just weigh him down. Even if he could pull you to safety, wouldn’t it just slow him down? Turn the odds against your survival? You don’t want to be the reason Peter doesn’t make it. You couldn’t do that to sweet Aunt May. 

Yet you find yourself taking a trembling step forward. Because Peter told you to trust him, and before this you swear he was about to kiss you, and you decide then and there that you don’t want to die without getting a chance to kiss Peter.

Just as your hand raises to clasp Peter’s, the cabin lurches again, makes you wobble off balance. You gasp as Peter shouts, a wordless exclamation. When you find your footing again, realizing that you are not yet plummeting to certain death, you see Peter is somehow… he’s holding onto the cabin by the door frame with one hand, hanging onto the upright beam of the ferris wheel for leverage. Face contorted with strain. Arms trembling with effort. 

“Grab onto me!” He yells. “I can’t- can’t hold it for long, you gotta grab onto me!”

No longer wavering, you fling yourself at Peter and wrap your arms around his middle. That’s about as much bravery as you’re able to muster up with open eyes, so you squeeze them shut and quietly make sounds of teeth-clenched dread as rain and wind whip around you. 

Peter must let go of the cart because you feel his hands adjust you against him before one of them holds you closer and tighter to him, arm secure around your waist. It is the only thing that provides a small comfort as the windswept feeling of falling makes you bury your face in the crook of Peter’s neck.

The fall seems to last much longer than you think it should. Long enough to give way to something exhilarating in your belly, accompanying the fear and the cold. Long enough to feel a bit confused over the delayed impact, but you convince yourself it’s coming soon, maybe right this second, even, and nuzzle deeper into Peter’s hold for comfort.

Peter’s voice cuts through the wind and rain unexpectedly clear and close to your ear. “Hey, we’re okay. We’re fine now.”

You shiver, probably from the chill of the passing storm and not from the feeling of his warm breath against your skin, and slowly blink your eyes open to the dark hair plastered at the back of Peter’s neck. It takes another few seconds to realize that you are no longer falling, and that the ground is firmly planted on your feet. Or, vice versa. Either way, it’s such a dizzying relief of a revelation that you only slowly peel back away from Peter, afraid you might stumble without his support. 

You draw back far enough to scan Peter’s face. “How- what?” You glance around, find yourself tucked away between two small buildings. The rain has lightened to a soft, considerate drizzle. Looking back into Peter’s eyes, you finish asking, “Peter, how are we alive right now? How did we get down from the ferris wheel? Where is the ferris wheel?”

Peter chuckles, something nervous underlying the laughter. His arm falls away from your waist. You miss it immediately, but then his hands are on your cheeks, cradling your face. “There’s probably somethin’ I should tell you.”

His dulcet tone makes your cheeks tingle. An overwhelming emotion fills his gaze, and it worsens the dizzying feeling of being alive. Peter’s face is so close to yours, water droplets hanging from the wet strands of hair sticking to his brow, one clinging to the tip of his nose. His mouth is parted slightly, and he is breathtaking and dreamy and quite possibly the reason you’re still alive. 

“Wh-what’re you..?” 

Peter answers your breathless and incomplete question by closing the distance between your mouths. His lips slot against yours. His nose pokes your left cheek. It all feels so tender and almost impossible. 

“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry, I just-” he pulls back, but not very far, continues muttering against your mouth. “I thought I was gonna lose you, too-”

His lips trail upwards, brushes against your nose until they press against your forehead, and it somehow makes you feel more bashful than the kiss did. Something delicate and vulnerable bubbles up in the small space between you, makes the rain stop mattering.

“Pete,” you whisper, voice hoarse with emotion as you parrot his reassuring words from before. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

You stand there for a few moments, letting time dissolve around you as you mutter reassurances to each other, hands not leaving the other, touches filled with solace and just a little bit of selfishness. As your mind accepts that you are no longer in danger, something starts to click into place as dots connect. The Spider-Plush is still firmly clenched in your right fist, now sodden from the weather but otherwise intact. 

An amused snort distracts Peter enough to pull away from you and give you a curious look. The space allows you to take a look at the plush, its familiar colors and big white eyes and webbed face. You raise it next to Peter’s head, shaking it slightly, for emphasis. “This- This is you.”

Peter’s head falls forward, keeping his eyes downcast and away from yours. It wasn’t a question, of course, but he nods anyway. 

“You… Spider-Manned us to safety.”

Peter’s shoulders move with silent laughter before he raises his head again, grinning. “See?” He says. “I told you I wasn’t gonna let you die.”

The precious moment of reveling in each other’s safety finally gives way to bubbly amusement. “I didn’t think you’d be able to carry me!”

“Aw, c’mon, where’s my vote of confidence?”

“Peter. Peter, look at you, you’re like a stringbean.” 

Peter throws his head back in laughter, revealing his lovely long neck and Adam’s apple that you stare at, deciding it’s a well-deserved treat for your eyes.

“How was I supposed to know that you’d be able to bear my weight so easy?” You continue. “I’m not exactly light, Pete. I’m not… I’m not damsel-sized, y’know?”

Peter stops laughing. He looks at you, something smoldering and slightly mischievous darkening his gaze. His head drops just a bit, making his stare almost threatening as he walks towards you, starts backing you into the wall on your side of the alley. “Was easy for me. I’ll carry you anywhere.”

Heat floods your cheeks, the low tone and Peter’s closeness making your heart flutter. 

“C’mere.” His right hand falls to your waist again, pulling you towards him, making you gasp. He plants one more searing kiss against your lips, this one more certain and molten, before effortlessly whisking you away. 

You spend the evening huddled up in your bedroom, eating soup and fighting back a cold and sharing a blanket with Peter Parker, who is so much more than a Boy and a Friend.

[everygayhere]

May the fun commence

hey this the first fanfic i've ever posted so like if you could give any notes that would be really appreciated and also go a little easy maybe... possible pls.

summary: Y/N a college student who is traveling to Malibu beach and have a fun vacation and maybe get to know her crush Marlow a bit more, while also avoiding Tara the most annoying person. Little does she know that maybe more interesting paths await her at this beach house. Tara carpenter a free spirted women who likes to have her fun drinking and hanging out with friends and avoiding the one person she knows won't be here Y/N.

Part 1, Part 2

Loud sounds of pelting rain hit the roof. As Y/N sits in her room with the murmurs of the television in the background which has been forgotten. Scrolling through her Instagram mindlessly noticing everyone enjoying their summer, FOMO at an all time high. She has a long exhale of breath as she sees her crush Marlows’s post. Jealousy consumes her as she analyzes the photo of a random girl’s arms wrapped around their body. To close for her comfort she thinks. Quickly scrolling past to see her friend Alva’s post about her lavash vacation and the summer sun, wishing she could be there.

Yet here she lays in the comfort of her bed wasting the day away. You see it’s not like she wasn’t invited to come along with them on their vacation. She just said no. Her parents didn’t mind her going, it's just that sometimes they embarrass her. When she told them that her friends wanted her to come along on their vacation her parents were fine with it; they were actually happy. They couldn’t wait to get their daughter out of their house for some alone time and so their daughter could have fun.

To Y/n credit she was packing to get ready to go but then her mum pulled the stunt of giving her condoms and a sex talk and that just made her not want to go. So now the envy of her friends having fun, well she was stuck at home once again was on her this time, but maybe it was for the best since Tara Carpenter was there. A part of her didn’t mind that she wasn’t on Malibu Beach sun tanning and basking in the warm air but the other part was so pissed off.

A knock was heard at Y/N’s door, “darling hey I was just coming up to see if you were okay or needed anything?”. Her mother questions at the closed door. “Ah no i’m good thanks though mum” Y/N heard her mother sigh as her footsteps became distant. Is it possible for my summer to get any worse she thought to herself. *DING* the sound of a notification rang out into her room, her screen lighting up from the right of her. Of Course it could, why the hell would it not. There on her locked screen lit up a notification of a post Marlow  just uploaded and in the tagged mentions was Tara Carpenter insta. As Y/N clicked the notification the image of Tara and Marlow was brought up to her face. The two of them grinning into the camera with their eyes covered by sunglasses. Marlow was wearing a wife beater while Tara had an unbuttoned Hawaiian style shirt and a Nike sports bra underneath.

Now normally Y/N would be smiling at this photo like a kid in a candy store but she couldn’t seem to hold that expression not when Tara was in it arms crossed over her chest, abs on display her biceps popping out with the sweat that dripped from her arms. Ugh why the hell did Tara have to ruin everything. She just had to be friends with Marlow. I mean who cares if they were friends since the start of college, maybe Y/N didn’t want Tara to ruin her only chance with Marlow. 

That’s it this is how my love life is going to be something or someone is going to always get in the way. No matter what. I am just destined to be alone forever. Y/N thinks to herself as she continues to see her mutuals all hanging out and having fun, couples kissing each other and posting about their life while on vacation. She then decides to get up and leave her room and go somewhere. I mean she has several more weeks before she’s back at school. Maybe she should just go to Malibu and hang with her friends. They did say that she could fly over and stay at their villa when she was ready, and this is her being ready.

Y/N packs her bags once again and heads down stairs where she sees her parents in the living room. They both turn when they hear her footsteps coming down the stairs. “Hey honey, what are you doing with those bags?” her mum asks.  “I’ve decided to get ready to leave for that vacation with my friends in LA” Y/N says looking at her mother with her head held high. “Well that’s wonderful news, but how are you going to get there darling? Flights are already fully booked for the next 2 weeks” her father responded with a confused look on his face. Amelia nudges her husband. “I was just going to drive there, nothing says great freedom like taking a 9 hour and 53 minute drive from here to LA, well LA Malibu beach”  Y/N responded. “ Well okay then have a fun message when you get there and remember safe sex is the best option besides no sex but you know what i mean” her mother smiles at her giving her a wink. “Ew mum like I said I am not going to have sex i’m just going to hangout with Alva and the others” Y/N responded while walking out the front door towards her car. “Okay well don't forget that you have to wear protection when you get a little frisky with girls honey and also, please understand you could still get an STD!” her mother shouts out towards her. “Yes, I know mum, I take health class!” Y/N  responded back, packing her bags into her car.

She hops into the front of her car and puts the directions on her GPS and connects her phone so she can listen to music on her way there. As she’s driving off she decides that this time is probably the best to get herself a coffee. So she pulls up to a cafe and off onto the road she goes. 

Several hours of driving and great playlist’s later she arrives at the villa Alva messaged her when she was driving down. At this moment she second guesses herself on whether or not she should be here. Then she sees Alva on the balcony and texts her telling her she's here, she can see Anika read it since Alva bolts from the balcony 2 minutes later she’s running out of the front door and towards Y/N’s car. “You actually came!!! Oh my god, holy shit I really thought you were bullshitting again.” “At this moment I really do wish I was too.” Y/N responded with dread filling her face.

“Oh come on, it's not that Y/nn” Alva responded by wrapping her arm around her shoulder and dragging her along with her. “Not that bad?... look how many people are here.” as Y/N scans the driveway jammed packed with cars like a goddamn puzzle. With the music blasting out to the where the two stand outside facing the front entrance. “Look it’s really not this packed all the time we just so happen to have a party the day you arrived….” Alva says well looking away from Y/N to the house. Y/N turns back to face Anika and gives her a raised eyebrow “oh really? You know that's pretty weird considering you’re good at planning ahead of time and you knew I was going to be here today.” Alva doesn’t look at her as she response “what… that’s not-” in the middle of Anika responding she turns to Y/n to explain and see the really? Face Y/n is giving her “okay maybe i did know… but it doesn’t matter now you're here and you are going to have fun with me.” Alva gives Y/N a big smile and drags her to the house by her forearm.  ‘May the fun commence.. I guess’ Y/n thought as she entered the front door.

[chasedbyatlantic]

beach baby, joel miller

summary: IN WHICH — while driving out along the coast, joel miller decides to surprise you with one of your favourite things - a visit to the beach.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson era!joel, gender neutral!reader, implied/established relationship, love dovey joel, literally joel being husband material, relationship things, stripping, swearing. lmk if i missed anything!

wordcount: 2.5k

a/n: this and puppy love are tied for my fav fics rn. i am genuinely obsessed w this like i can imagine him doing this so vividly ugh. also! i opened my requests so gogogo and request any sort of fics! remember to reblog, comment, like and follow for updates on new fics. love u all xoxo

—

It had been years since the two of you had travelled together, outside of the walls. Of course, you weren't complaining about the safety that the walls had provided you and Joel, but you missed it. You missed the thrill, the always-on-edge feeling you got when travelling hundreds of miles from safety. Plus, to be quite honest, you missed when it was just you and Joel. Of course you had loved Ellie with everything in you, but there was just something that happened with you when you were by yourself with him; a euphoric feeling- a feeling you only got when you were with the man you loved.

Joel had gotten clearance (like he needed it, he would've just left anyway) from Tommy weeks prior to your departure from Jackson. Though you would only be gone for a month or two, Tommy had to reschedule people into your shifts at work and what not. When he had asked Joel on where he was going, he got no answer. Joel didn't know himself, usually he was a 'prepare for everything' type of person, but lately he has been more of a 'i'll go wherever the road takes me' guy.

The last time you were awake, it had to be hours ago at this point, the window was rolled far down and some sort of song by The Beach Boys was playing on the stereo (Joel had installed one just for you, as you proclaimed your undying love for music more times than he could keep track of). This time of the year was your favourite - it was summer. The days were long, the sun was out, and your hair grew a shade lighter. Joel, on the other hand, hated summer. He hated the way his clothes would cling onto him, and the way sweat would roll down his neck the second he stepped outside.

Joel had told you that you guys were going to head to California. Apparently there was a trader that he knew from a while back that he needed to pay a visit to, and had asked you if you were in for the ride. Without a doubt, you were. This lead you to the current moment.

You had moved around a little bit in the passenger seat of Joel's pickup truck, it wasn't the most comfortable. Although, you hadn't minded. Wind was still blowing in your face and through your hair, which had muted out the sounds of the familiar song you had fallen asleep to. As you attempt to stretch your leg and shift around, you can feel pressure holding it down. You had opened your eyes and glanced down, blurred vision, to observe Joel's hand resting upon your thigh.

You had exhaled as you sunk back further into your seat, life felt good- it felt normal. Joel's hand had reached up off your thigh for a split second to turn down the stereo a bit, but his hand took his returning place on the open of your skin. "You were out for hours, darlin'." You had only hummed in response (since you were only half awake, not completely aware of where you were).

"We're in California, crossed the border 'bout'n hour ago." This caused you to glance over at Joel driving. One hand on the wheel, sleeves rolled up, focused- god, if he wasn't driving you'd tell him to get in the back seat. "How long 'til we're at this place you're takin' me to?" You had to rip yourself out of the depths of your imagination after seeing him like this.

Joel had hummed to himself, attempting to mental math his way through the question you asked. "Don't know baby, before sun fall I'm guessin'." That was a good enough answer for you. You had brought your hand to rest on top of his over your thigh, and you could feel his grip loosen a bit once you did this. Joel always had to have a part of his body on yours, his love language most definitely being physical touch. In reality, though, he was afraid that if he let go of you- you'd disappear with the blink of an eye.

With the next few hours of just you and him talking about anything and everything, you had finally noticed the sun start to set. You hadn't even realized the day was almost gone. Being deep in thought with the hunk of a man right beside you had its cons, you had guessed. Right before you had opened your mouth, Joel beat you to it, "Gonna pull over here, I'll finish the drive tomorrow."

He did just as he said and took a right into an open field, the car ride became about fifty times bumpier than previously which you weren't a fan of. Though, it was over soon, Joel had found a nice place tucked just after the tree line for you guys to spend the night in. "Backseat?" He had questioned, glancing over at you.

"Jesus Christ, at least take me out to dinner first!" Had escaped your lips, followed with a bunch of laughs. Joel couldn't help but turn his neutral look into a happy one, a few chuckles in sync with yours. He loved you, but he loved you even more when you were like this. To say you being cocky and arrogant in a joking way turned him on was an understatement.

"The car'll get a flat if we do anythin' in that sorts, ya' know that." He had (sort of, not really) scolded you once both of your laughs had calmed down. A fake frown was now plastered on top of the beaming smile, sighing with a small 'fine'. All jokes aside, you had gotten out of the truck to hop in the backseat. Not for any funny business (unfortunately), but for actual sleep. Joel had beaten you there by just (in a bad fashion) crawling through the middle piece.

The seats had already been down from the nights previous, with the sheets and pillows already in place. Joel had already taken his shirt off and was laying down, stomach side up. You couldn't help but admire him as you switched what you were wearing to become more comfortable. "Starin' ain't well-mannered, doll." This resulted in you laying down beside him, stomach side down.

"You love it, don't lie." Joel could only chuckle in response as he drooped his arm around your waist. Sweet nothings were whispered to each other for the next while before one or the other fell asleep, you couldn't really remember. Nights like this were the most uncomfortable thing, but you found comfort in the man beside you every time.

You woke up without the feeling of your man wrapped around you, which wasn't a good start to your day. You had only figured that he had probably gotten an early start to his day (once again), in the driver's seat was the new normal for Joel, at least for the last month.

You felt the sun beaming in your face- it was blinding, even with your eyes tightly shut. This had indicated to you that you were no longer in the forest, and for sure on the road. "Joel." You had hummed, moving around a tad bit.

There wasn't a response, he had to have been concentrated on the road- or you were just quieter than you thought. "Joel." You hummed once again, a yawn soon following suit. The only sound that had returned was the sounds of birds chirping, and- a sound you couldn't recognize. You brain was going about a hundred miles an hour, but you couldn't place what it was.

Now pissed off with him, you sat up and looking around. Your eyes were glossy at it was too bright to properly see anything- but you could see the empty driver's seat. "This isn't fucking funny!" You began to panic. Why didn't he wake you, why didn't he tell you where he was going, was he safe?

The thoughts were emptied out of your head when you heard him call your name, you immediately turn your head left and look out the window. It was Joel, thank god, but was that- it couldn't be, there was no way.

A beach.

"Holy fuckin' shi-" You were interrupted by the back door quickly opening, and Joel reaching his hand out. "Surprise." Surprise? This was more than just a surprise, to you. This was heaven. You thought you had already met heaven when you met Joel Miller, but this? This came to a close second.

You grabbed his hand and he pulled you out (carefully and what not). This man had the biggest smile on his face, ever. He knew this would make you happy, you always told him stories about when you were younger. Your grandparents had owned a little cottage on the water before they had passed, years and years ago.

"I cannot fuckin' believe it, Joel!" You sounded like you were going to bawl. You were, to be honest. Why was he so good to you- he didn't need to be, you felt as if you didn't deserve it. If anyone deserved surprises like this, it was Joel.

"Well ya' better start to, I ain't goin' swimmin' by myself." If anyone had a bigger smile than you right now, it was him (and it was a genuine one, too). You had brought your lips to him in a quick, but hungry, fashion. He didn't hesitate to kiss you back, there was nobody around to worry about seeing you two like this.

After a moment, you pulled back. You had immediately turned around and stripped, just leaving your undergarments on. Joel had adverted his eyes, despite seeing you with less on millions of times. After the last shoe was pulled off your foot, you turned back around. He had tried his hardest to keep his eyes on yours, not to trail them down your curved body. You had to do the same, Joel was just in his boxers and- well, it was a sight, to say the least.

You grab Joel's hand, intertwining your fingers between each other. He glances down, another small smile raising to his lips. This didn't last for long, though. Within the blink of an eye, you were racing down the burning hot sand toward the water with Joel following suit (not by choice, he would've loved to take his time).

It feels like a thousand needles are piercing you - the water is so cold, but you don't care. All you wanted was to swim. You had let go of Joel's hand before you completely dived into the water (once deep enough, of course). You were fully submerged and swimming for what felt like forever. You loved this, you craved it.

You remerged a couple yards away from Joel, who was still standing on the shore looking absolutely breathtaking, to say the least. "What're you waiting for? Get your fine ass in here!" You had called out to him. Joel took some baby steps in, but not past his ankle. You had shook your head, before an idea hit you.

You had swam over to Joel, eventually standing up when it was shallow enough. You had opened your arms as you approached him, giving him the hint you were going to give him a hug. "You do that darlin', an' I ain't drivin' your pretty ass back home." Joel sounded serious, but you knew he would never leave you.

"Yes you will." You argued to him, still approaching. The man in front took a hesitant step back, not trusting you. Quickly, before Joel could do anything else, you ambush. You jumped full force at him and wrap your arms around his neck, he cringes. He cringes so hard that he almost dropped you. Almost.

Joel had let out a moan, now freezing cold. With you in his arms, practically in tears from laughter, he finds a way to get payback at you. Now that he was wet, he decided to charge deeper in the water (you still in his arms). You let out a squeal once Joel was shoulder deep, both syncing your laughs shortly after.

Joel had let go of you, and now you were treading. Since it was up to his shoulders, it was above your head. "You're perfect, ya' know." His hand had found yours under the water, you let him hold it. "I am? Baby, ya' did all this for me. If anyone's perfect-" You brought your free hand to Joel's cheek, cupping it, "-It's you." He couldn't help but let a smile shine through his face.

It was true, if you searched up "perfect" in the dictionary Joel Miller would come up. He brought out the best of you, even on days where you couldn't get out of bed. He made your world, even if it was nearing the end of everyone else's.

Hours later, once you two were completely red from too much sun and heat-tired, you lay in the back of Joel's pickup truck. It was night, pitch black. The waves were crashing alongside the waterline, and the birds had gone to rest. It was warm outside, but due to too much sun, the both of you were freezing. You were cuddled underneath a spare blanket that Joel had packed away before you guys left Jackson, bodies tangled with each other.

Today was the best day you had in a while- no, the best day you had period. Granted, anyday with Joel was a blessing, but today was different. You didn't have to survive, you got to take life for granted for a few hours.

You weren't the only one who enjoyed the day, Joel did too (if it wasn't clear). He needed both a mental and physical break after driving for hours and hours for weeks. When finding this beach while you were asleep, he knew it was perfect. Granted, he went and checked it out while you were sleeping to make sure everything was safe for you guys (it was), and that just added to his mood.

Light pollution wasn't a thing anymore, at least not in rural California, so you got to see the stars. Not just one or two, every star. "Joel," You spoke, squeezing his hand that was wrapped around your shoulder. He hummed in response, too tired for words. "The brightest stars in the sky, the one on the left is Spica, and the one on the right is Arcturus."

He looked up, almost surprised you knew this. He didn't take you to be an astronomy girl. "You're too smart for ya' own good." His finger rubbed up and down on top of your shoulder. You had leaned farther back into him, so carefree.

"I'm happy I got to be your beach baby." You blurt out, not really thinking about what you had said. This earned a quiet chuckle to escape from the man's lips. "You can be my beach baby any day ya' want." Joel's grip tightened around you, the pressure of his head was now felt on top of yours.

Everyday spent with this man was a good day- no, a great day. Being alive was luck, but being alive with your best friend was fate. You will never forget today, the day Joel Miller took you to a beach for the first time. You will never forget the look he had when he watched you being the happiest you've been in so long. For as long as you live, you'll never forget that you're Joel Miller's beach baby.

—

beach baby, bon iver

[conniesministallion]

☆☆𝓘𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓟𝓸𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝒫𝒶𝓇𝓉𝟣☆☆

Warnings: Violence! (Rafe/Ward)(Rafe/JJ) Angst!

Pairing: Rafe x Black reader

This is y/n's POV for now

Summary: Waking up in the hot tropical sun, y/n makes her way to enjoy the rest of her summer. Rafe is keeping it together but struggles on his own. This is just the beginning and I like detail so bare with me lol.

A/N: So sorry it's late I scheduled the post and somehow someway it didn't save :((

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

" I really could get used to staying here." I manage to croak out of my wine dried mouth. These past few months have been absolute paradise. Trying to convince myself that this isn't better than Kildare is ridiculous. I wish I could stay here for a bit longer but school was starting and I knew I would have to get back to the hot Carolina heat.

Slowly turning on to my side to the ivory colored night stand and grabbing my phone. Finally deciding to check snapchat, the first one is JJ's. I'm not surprised to see his bloody nose but hold on, why the fuck am I tagged.

" Your bestie is a psycho but I'll get my lick back @y/nkitty"

What the fuck? So, your bold enough to tag me but not the one that clearly beat your ass?

First of all, I'm not even there. Second I am not that mans owner, the fuck is he tagging me for! Wait, mkay so back to the fighting shit again? Rafe really ugh.

MayJ: Tag the one you beefing with if you bold mf not his bsf.

I quickly switched to messages and tried to hold myself back from raging on Rafe. He knows damn well I don't do fighting unless it's necessary and knowing him. The fight was obviously over something small.

Rafeybby: Dude are you serious? Got mfs tagging me cuz you don't know how to keep your damn anger in check? 7:42 a.m. Rafeybby: Seriously what was it over? Are you okay? I can't patch you up this time but we can call if you're free. 7:43 a.m.

Being so fed up with his antics combined with him not responding, I swing my feet over the plush mattress making my way towards the white bathroom doors. Washing my face with some coconut facial scrub, brushing my teeth and taking a quick shower. I make out of the restroom when I hear my cousin's high pitch scream from downstairs.

" Y/n your mom made breakfast and we're heading out towards the island to shop in the village hurry!"

"I'm getting dressed be down soon!" I yelled back.

I hurry and get dressed as I grab my phone of the dresser. Realizing that Rafe has yet to respond to me.

Grabbing my purse and making my way downstairs I briefly glance at the polaroid of Rafe and myself sitting on the beach.

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

" Is it possible that you have this in gold and silver as a pair?"

Already into the village, I decided to get a piece of the island for me and Rafe to share. Not knowing when either of us would be able to come back together. Summer in Kildare meant more parties, more clients for rafe to sell, and more drama around my friend group. Speaking of, I need to call Ki and Jade to catch them up with my summer. Plus....I wanna know the messy tea that been popping off while I was gone. I turned my attention back to the lady realizing that I spaced out.

" Of course love, give me one second to wrap them for you."

I haven't been to the village since I was a child and standing here at the booth makes me a lil anxious. Much more people here than back a figure 8.

The sun is illuminating over the sand filled roads with taverns covering the coast. Merchants on every end of this small corner of the village. People of all ages gathering and talking amongst one another and even though the heat is suffocating everyone seems pleased.

The scarf around my locs is loose on my head, the thin fabric of my skirt makes the heat feel cooler as the breeze hits my skin. I settled for a tube top my granny made me as a plus. It reminds me of the summers we spend together while fishing for dinner.

" You're all good to go dear! These are the perfect gift for a lover if you have one in mind." She expressed to me. Reaching out her small hand and placing the glitter wrapped bracelets on the counter.

I smile at the old lady who looks at me with beaming eyes.

" I have no lover but I do have a best friend. I'm sure they'll be happy to have a thoughtful gift." I softly spoke. As I grab the bag off of the wooden counter. I thank her as I make my way to find the rest of my family.

" We're heading to Seaside Oasis. Did you get everything you needed?" My mom says as she checks her phone for the reservations.

"I got some gifts and tons of clothes hopefully they'll fit in my suitcase." I giggled back.

Heading to lunch while my dad constantly talks his head off does not sound so pleasant but drinking does.

As we made out way towards the seating area and settle down. I ordered first while my family followed. Of course as soon as the food comes my father starts to talk about his collogues. Choosing to ignore him while sipping on a margarita. I start to think about Rafe, which is what I've been doing constantly while away. I miss him of course but, the constant fights and selling is what makes me worry.

On top of his reputation of sleeping with anything that walks, unless it's a pogue doesn't make it any better. This man spoils me constantly, he doesn't need to but he does. Not with just money either but affection....which I wouldn't be surprised he does with the rest of the girls he whatever I'm getting pissed just thinking about it.

.｡ping ping.｡ Rafeybby: Nice to hear from you too mama. I'm all good how's your trip? Rafeybby: That mf tagged you but has be blocked is crazy. Why do you have him on snap anyway. Thought I told you to block him before you left. 10:30 a.m.

Me: Just call me when you can and don't worry I'm having fun. Just wanted to make sure you were good. Rafeybby: You just gonna skip over what I said? Rafeybby: Don't worry mama we'll talk about it later. Going to Barry's, call when I can.

Umm.....who the hell, does this mf thinks he is? My Daddy???

I stared at the phone with my head tilted sideways. I'm not even gonna respond to his ass. Constantly thinking that I'm going to listen to him is gonna get his ass cursed out. Especially since he knows that it won't work. But for now instead of thinking of what kind of timing Rafe is on, im gonna sit back, sip my drink, and

*+:｡.｡　　｡.｡:+*

Enjoy my summer <3

[currently--hyperfixating]

Ben Linus (Lost) x Reader PART FOUR

Part one is here

Part Two is here

Part Three is here

word count: 2007

summary: you're at the Dharma Initiative for an art residency in 1992 and develop feelings for Ben Linus. Twelve years later, you're back on the island as a survivor of Oceanic flight 815 with no memory of your time at the initiative, or Ben.

note: this has been my favorite part to write so far! i hope you guys like it :)

tagging (let me know if you want to be added or want to be removed at any point) @darkwing-katy @spiltmiiilk @lulypooly @alienwithabox @wintersnails @storywriter12

Fall, 2004

–

Ben watched, somewhat amazed at your fearlessness. Has she always been that brave? He wondered, looking you up and down for a moment. He always had a plan. From the moment Ethan had reported back to him that you were on the beach with the rest of the survivors of flight 815, he had a plan. 

You not recognizing Ethan wasn’t surprising- if nothing else, he had aged a bit since you last saw him. You not recognizing Ben, on the other hand, presented him with a range of emotions he was frankly, too busy to deal with right now. Was he supposed to be glad you didn’t remember anything- that it had worked? 

Perhaps he had been granted some atonement with the island bringing you back, maybe he was being given a second chance to win you over- and not fuck it up this time. 

Maybe it was better you didn’t remember him, he could start from scratch. Maybe you’d never remember any terrible thing he’d done, maybe you’d just want to be with him, by your choice.

Well, in a way.

He had been staring at you for a while now as he continued to think, eventually holding his gun to his side instead of keeping it pointed at you. “I don’t know who you are,” he insisted again, “but I’m not in the habit of pointlessly killing and torturing people like your group seems to be.” 

“Evidently you broke out of where they were keeping you,” You took another few steps closer to him, realizing that his gun was just loosely in his hand now. “and you’re armed.” 

“What are you suggesting?” He raised his eyebrows at you, and you almost laughed at the absurdity of it. What am I suggesting? Obviously that you killed someone, you thought. 

“Where are you going?” You asked instead. 

“Back to my people. Care to join me?”

You made a face at him and tilted your head, “Why would I go with you?”

A smile crept over his face, and he spoke in a deliberate tone that felt so genuine and true to you, “Because I have answers for you- I can help you.” 

--

Summer, 1992

You and Ben had been getting together for dinner and going off on small jobs together for about a month, and you had started to feel like you had made a friend at the Dharma Initiative. This morning, when you saw him at your usual time before breakfast, you had a new request for him. 

“Good morning, Ben!”

He was flipping through a workbook when you made your way over to him, his rounded, golden reading glasses sliding down his nose while he scanned the pages. “Good morning, y/n.” He didn’t look up from the page as he spoke. 

“Did you have any extra time after work today?” You asked, peering over the book slightly and noticing that he hadn’t signed up for any shifts for the day at all. 

He looked up at you through his glasses, smiling, “Did you have something in mind?” He drew out each word in a way that made your chest tighten slightly. Something about him recently had made you feel anxious, especially when he had started to be ever more sardonic. 

“I’ve noticed I asked you to show me around the island and you took that as show me around the work sites. To reiterate, I want you to show me around the island.”

He laughed at you, “I should have assumed you wanted a picnic at the beach your first week, rather than a tour of where you were working?” 

You smiled at him, playing into the same teasing, “Well, I thought you would read between the lines.” 

He made a hmph sound at you and folded up his glasses, “I can drive whenever you’re ready.”

When the van stopped at your destination, you got out and sat on a hill overlooking a section of the beach. You took a mango and a small knife out of your bag, gesturing towards him to see if he wanted any. 

“Sure, that sounds good,” he said, watching you intently as you cut it into pieces to split between the two of you. 

“Do you come here often?” You asked him, handing him a piece. 

Ben shook his head at you, “Very occasionally with my dad. Whenever being a horrible father seems to catch up to him.” 

You looked over at him sympathetically. “He seems like he was hard to grow up with.” You paused, considering your next question more carefully. “Did you have friends growing up here, Ben?”

“If you count a girl, Annie, who was here with me for less than two years and a pet bunny, sure,” He said, seeming to be amused with himself and eating the piece of mango you had handed to him. 

“I didn’t know you could have a pet here.”

“Oh you can’t- I stole him from a lab where they test on them.” He answered very nonchalantly.

You looked back at him quizzically, “What are they testing on rabbits here?”

He smiled wider at you, speaking in a tone that almost sounded like taunting, “You would never believe me if I told you.” 

You sat with this information for a few minutes, letting the silence take hold.

It was a beautiful day out, even with the intense heat and humidity from the island in summer. There were flowers in bloom a bit further down from you, near the water, and the ocean looked calm. The sound of the waves crashing against the sand felt comfortable to you even from a distance- in fact, you had felt more comfortable than any of your other days here so far, you realized. 

You were starting to not even care as much about the mysterious nature of the Dharma Initiative. Did it really matter right now? 

“Did you name the bunny?” 

Ben was leaning back against the hill on the palms of his hands, the sleeves of his brown coveralls rolled up his arms as he splayed out. He squinted as he went to shield his face from the sun with one of his hands. “Chester.”

That’s sweet you thought to yourself, smiling at him.

“Why do you want to keep living here, y/n?” He asked you, and there was a palpable shift in his tone as he said it. 

You were somewhat taken aback by the question, and your smile dropped as you thought about it. “I’m not sure- I mean, I like being here. I don’t have much to go back to-”

He cut you off, “I’m sure you do.”

You felt slightly hurt by this. “Do you not think I should stay here for some reason?” you asked, feeling the unintentionally defensiveness slip out as you spoke. 

“No, I wasn’t-” he paused, thinking about what to say next. 

Truthfully, he didn’t think you should stay here. He wanted you to leave under any excuse possible. As much as he hated to admit to himself, he had started to care about you, and it couldn’t have come at a worse possible time. He was getting himself on thinner and thinner ice with Widmore and had already gotten away with bringing Ethan along after the Dharma Initiative was dealt with, and had brought Alex into the ‘hostiles’ camp. You showing up and being kind to him wasn’t part of this plan. “I just wanted to make sure you were happy here… fulfilled.” 

--

Fall, 2004

You had been following ‘Henry’ for hours now, well into the night. You did so begrudgingly, unsure of whether or not it was really wise to trust him.

He has a point, you thought, considering the extreme actions members of your group had been taking recently. It didn’t seem like anybody there was getting closer to getting you off the island or finding any answers, they were too preoccupied with some war against the ‘others.’ 

As you followed him, you remained impressed with his ability to walk through all of the injuries he’d sustained down in the hatch. Surely his wounds had become infected- or would be soon- thanks to Jack deciding to medically neglect him upon finding out he was lying. 

“I think we should stop for the night,” you announced. 

“Why? So you can take my gun while I’m sleeping and bring me back?” 

“Thanks for the idea- I’m pretty sure I could’ve done that already if I really wanted to though. Not very hard to overpower someone who’s beaten to a pulp and has been limping for hours.” You countered, raising your eyebrows at him and stopping in your tracks to sit down. 

He looked at you quizzically before eventually sitting across from you, visibly relieved to stop walking. 

“Do you want anything to clean that?” You asked, gesturing to the blood-soaked bandage on his shoulder. “I have some first aid supplies.”

“Thank you for waiting until now to bring that up,” he responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“I’ll chalk your attitude up to you being in pain, I guess,” you mumbled, pulling out a small vial of rubbing alcohol, cotton, and clean bandages. 

He flinched as you moved back his shirt and unwrapped the bandage there, setting it down.

 “This will probably hurt.” You poured alcohol on the cotton and dabbed it on his shoulder as gently as possible, but noticed him still gritting his teeth through it. You started to take notice of his face more as you scanned it for blood to clean off. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, his face was unshaven- he probably would've looked pretty rough even if he wasn't severely injured.

“Just don’t move,” you said- but you probably didn’t need to.

Ben looked down at you and watched you putting the new bandage on, a part of him relishing in your closeness. He didn’t dare move. He felt overwhelmed with a sense of powerlessness that made him uneasy. How was he supposed to flip this situation around to his advantage? 

Maybe his vulnerability would work out in his favor. Maybe letting you help him would give you the idea that he was trustworthy, that he wasn't as bad as your group was making him out to be.

You were helping him- that was a good sign, right? 

“Why are you helping me?”

“I don’t know enough about you to determine if you’re a bad person yet,” you answered honestly. “On the off chance you’re not, it would probably be a good idea to not let you die of an infection.” He almost chuckled, letting his lip curl up very slightly at your comment. 

It had been another moment of silence with you still going over whatever other cuts and gashes you could find on his face and neck. He felt the contrast of the cold alcohol to the warmth of your hands on his skin, finding it soothing for you to take care of him like this. The closer you got to him the more he felt his breath hitch up in his throat. You seemed so focused on what you were doing, not really noticing his reaction.

He closed his eyes and thought of all the ways he had tried to fill the gap of you for years now, more recently with Juliet, who had completely rejected all of his advances. 

“I might trust you more if I knew your real name,” you said quietly, interrupting his internal monologue. 

“Benjamin Linus.” He somewhat croaked out, clearly exhausted from walking all day in the condition he was in. “My name is Ben.” 

You were surprised by his honesty, finishing up your work and putting your first aid supplies back in your bag. You offered him the water you had in your bag and then propped yourself against the log by you. “Goodnight, Ben.”

Part five!

[yuncheoligans-archive]

All's Fair in Love and War

Kitsune! Choi San x Reader

w/c: 5442

Genre: Soulmate AU, Fantasy

Synopsis: Your parents left you their beach house when they moved out of the country. You and the neighbor boy always had a strange friendship growing up from the pranks to him standing up for you against beach bullies. It always felt like something was missing while you were away. Maybe this is the year for a budding summer romance with the hot neighbor...or maybe this is just a burnt-out brain hoping for something more.

Collab piece for @a1sh1teruu's Stuck in Summer Series (here)

~Masterlist~

In all his time on the planet, Choi San has never quite found the happiness his father talked about. He found the Winters too cold, the Falls too windy, and Springs too rainy…. never mind how he felt about the summers. Too Hot, Too Dry, Too Humid, he had a lot of feelings towards the summer and what it meant. Sure as a Tenko Kitsune, he’s been around for a while, there was a time when he was truly happy….he once fell in love with the summer but as time has passed he’s found himself lost in the sands of time hoping to bring it back once again. One last chance before he turned his back on the cursed summertime, it’s been 100 years since.

For the first time in a while, I finally had the summer to myself, I could take a vacation from work and make my way to where I truly wanted to be, the beach. My parents left me a summer home when they moved and if it wasn’t for bills I’d probably live there if I could. I’ve always loved the beach, the smell of the saltwater, the lull of the waves breaking the shore, the sunlight. Sure it was hot and the sun was always on you, but that first sunburn of summer where you just lose yourself outside is always something that happened to me as a kid, and honestly I almost look forward to having to sleep on my stomach for a week because my shoulders hurt so bad. I woke up early to finally make the drive down to the house so I could let go and relax, The cool breeze hit my face since I had my windows down, the sea breeze becoming more and more apparent. My old beat-up car rattled down the road as it slowly became a sand-covered driveway.

San’s ears perked up hearing the car.

“Oh hi! I hope I didn’t wake anyone up, I know it’s still quite early.” I smiled at the neighbor. I remember him. “No way….Choi San is that you?” I smiled.

“Y/n?” he looked at me in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” his eyes lit up.

“I finally got some vacation time and I missed the beach.” I smiled. “You’ve grown up from that scrawny little boy I met all those years ago, Taekwondo has really filled you out hmm?”

“Yeah I guess my dad pushed me really….you know.” he laughed nervously. “Let me help you with your bags.”

Did you always look like that? He questioned. Like she did? Like she did all those years ago, oh how he yearned to hear you say his name again.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah,” I turned around and looked at him.

“N-Nothing.” he blushed a little, seeing you in the rising sun he lost all train of thought.

The place was a little more dusty than I remember, that being said no one had used it in about 12 years, I remember running around and flopping on the couch as soon as we got in.

“Hey mom, told me they ordered a new mattress for the bed here and that the neighbor would pick it up, you didn’t happen to?”

“Oh, I did! I thought maybe your parents were coming back when they called and well…I put it in already, I know where the spare key is.”

The space looked the same as when you were last here but it felt different, felt koozie.

“They told me they spruced the place up since they heard I could come out this year but I wasn’t expecting this, I think they think I throw ragers or something, I mean what am I going to do with a fire pit.” I chuckled.

“They always did like spoiling you for your birthdays.”

“It was just to make up for being absent at home…” I looked down. “Anyways you’re probably tired, I need a nap. I've been driving for a few hours and well….Yeah I could really use one.” I chuckled.

“Oh right, sure.” he smiled, his heart fluttered at the sound of your laugh.

“Let’s hang out soon, ok?” I looked at him hopeful.

“I’d like that.” he nodded.

The new bed was amazing, my lumbar was supported, my head felt like I was on a cloud, and it pulled heat away from me as I tend to overheat while I sleep…or was I always cold when I slept? My parents always said I loved this place, and I’d always ask if we could go home instead of wherever we lived. They said I’d cry and beg to go to the beach house because I loved it so much. Funny how I never remember any of those things. I guess I don’t really remember what I ate for breakfast though….Breakfast. Oh man, am I starving Good thing I brought a donut with me. I pulled out the long donut with fox decorations on it. I loved foxes so much. I also loved all the mythology and lore behind foxes, wolves, vampires…my best friend is a vampire you know, oh yeah Seonghwa? He absolutely drinks the blood of young girls to keep himself young, in fact, he’s over 1200 years old. I’ve seen the birth certificate, and the social security card, which says 1.

I sat on the little nook that overlooked the beach and ate my donuts before heading to bed, I should probably tell Seonghwa and my parents I made it safely…I hope they won’t be too mad at me for the early text…or late text for Seonghwa he’s probably heading to bed himself. No matter what, I can't wait for the next month I have here.

Everything felt so peaceful, I felt calm like a part of me has come back together, I felt this sense of warmth and love. I loved the peaceful life I felt I lived here, it meant everything to me. As an adult I would’ve liked to share it with a partner, I would’ve loved to be married and show my kids around…but hey sometimes a little alone time is just what you need. I think I’m going to enjoy my alone time much more than I would’ve if I brought my ex here, Talk about a real piece of work…I sighed to myself letting sleep overcome my senses as I drifted off into the wild dreams that would always encapsulate me here. The smell of the sea comforted me.

“Y/n?” the voice called out. “You look beautiful darling.” he smiled at me and put a flower in my hair.

“Oh, you’re just saying that.” That voice came from me but I didn't recognize it. Was that really me? I guess you never truly know what you sound like.

“I’ve missed you my darling.” he brushed my hair back.

“You’ve been gone a long time.” I looked up, his fox-like features…wait…I know his face? Don’t I?

I woke up in a startle. My heart raced, he was so close, I could smell the fragrance he wore, Cherry Blossoms and saltwater, his smile was so comforting, I could…I felt so cold now, too cold for comfort. I grabbed a blanket.

Oh, who left the damn window open. I don’t remember opening that. I sighed, I was always forgetful like that.

I went down to the beach after waking up fully, I wanted to feel the warm sand on my feet and finally enjoy myself just like I wanted. This was my vacation after all.

“Hey stranger.” I said seeing San walking the beach.

“Hi.” he smiled and looked up at me.

“Mind if I join?” I put a blanket down next to him. “Maybe we can build a sandcastle like old times?”

“You remember all that?”

“Nah just remember the photos my mom took.” I shrugged. “How’s life treating you? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

“Not just me, I moved here about 4 years ago for college and moved into the beach house and just….never looked back you know.”

“Oh? I wish I did something like that. I of course felt the need to explore and see the big cities nowhere near the beach. Oh well…guess I’m here now.”

“What’re you doing for work?” he questioned.

“Oh, big corporate job. Studying the mythical beings we live with you know. Of course, my best friend is a vampire, totally weird right.”

“Oh…is that what that stench is?” he scrunched his nose.

“Oh like you can smell him.” I nudged him and caught a whiff of his cologne. “Cherry Blossoms?”

“Yeah, it’s…I just got it.” he smiled. “Do you like it? Is it bad?”

“No, I..I really like it Sannie.” I blushed a little remembering my dream. “Sorry I….I don’t know where that nickname came from.”

“No no it’s fine, I like it.” he flushed. “Sorry been out in the sun too long.”

“Oh yeah go ahead, I’m just going to read for a little.”

He got up to go back to his place.

“Um y/n? How long are you-”

“A month!” I stopped him and blushed myself. “Sorry I’m…I’m staying a month.”

“Then I hope to see you soon, don’t forget to drink some water ok?” he nodded.

“Yeah, no problem.” I nodded.

The breeze that followed felt like a familiar hug, just like one I needed, it felt like when my mom would hold me after a nightmare, or when my dad would put a cool towel on my forehead when I was sick. I should really convince Seonghwa and Wooyoung to come down here. Wooyoung would like the beach. Seonghwa would probably just like the change in scenery. I wonder if San has any new friends..maybe I will have a party. After all his birthday is coming up, isn't it?

I need to go grocery shopping, I can’t survive on cute donuts and fast food this whole time. Okay, hopefully, I don’t overdo it and get distracted by all the stuff, maybe I should quit and just move here….Where did that thought come from…I…I don’t know I just feel so at home here. It feels like this is where I belong and I just…I don’t know San certainly is a nice reminder of what I used to have. He’s also very easy on the eyes. I remember the pranks he used to pull. Oh man, I’d get so mad at him.

“That’s not funny San!” I screamed at the boy, my hair covered in sand.

“It’s fine honey, it’ll just take some water.” My mom tried to calm me down. “I know sweetheart.”

“It’s not funny.” I sniffled.

“It’s not you’re right.”

“San.” his dad called over and took him to have a word. “I should have you pick every grain of sand out of that girl's hair. Why would you do that?”

“I dunno…it sounded way more funny in my head.”

“You need to do more than apologize, son.”

“I…Fine” he pouted and walked back over. “Y/n?”

“Oh San, maybe now isn’t the best time.” my mom looked at him as I wiped my face.

“Mrs. L/N..I’m…” his heart clenched a little seeing me cry on the beach towel. “I’m really sorry, I don’t know why I did it, really. It sounded way more funny in my head.”

“I know you didn’t San, it’ll be alright.” she nodded.

San had an idea and left.

“Hey maybe this will exfoliate your scalp like you’ve been talking about in all those beauty shows you watch.” My dad tried making a joke.

“I don’t care.” I curled in on myself.

“y/n?” San stood in front of me.

“Go away.” I turned away from him.

“No y/n I…I’m really sorry, I…I brought you an Ice Cream?” he held out the vanilla cone to me.

“Why?”

“Because I’m sorry, I feel really bad and I…I don’t know why I did it, it was like I had the thought and just…did it.”

“Like a reflex.” my mom said. “The Ice Cream is melting dear.”

I reached out and took it…Not sure I wanted to but…he did seem sorry.

Honestly, I don’t know why San and I became friends after that, I mean he was always a jerk growing up, I guess it changed two summers before I never came back. I had to get braces and they really hurt, I almost hated everything that summer. He’d buy me Ice cream, he'd spend his free time with me, he taught me how to surf…he really….changed.

“Oh gross you have braces. No wonder you’re so ugly.” The boy laughed and kicked sand at me.

“Yeah, sandcastles are for babies.” his “girlfriend” chuckled beside him. They were no more than maybe a year older than me, so maybe 15 at the oldest.

My mom told me to make friends but they weren’t interested. In fact, I was probably disgusting to them.

“You’re so gross, Just give us back the ball already.” he kicked more sand at me. I didn’t understand, I was holding out the ball for them why weren��t they just taking it. “Freak.”

“Ugly.” his friend joined in.

“Weirdo.”

“Loser!”

“Hey! Cut it out!” came from the crowd. “Leave us alone and take your stupid damn ball. She's been holding it out for 10 minutes now.”

“Oh look fox boy has something to say.” the main boy laughed. “Defending your ugly girlfriend, they always say freaks get together.”

Before I knew it San had jumped on the kid throwing sand and punches.

“She’s not ugly!!” San yelled at him.

“Hey hey hey! Break it up!” the lifeguard yelled out blowing a whistle and coming over.

We both got kicked off the beach that day…well San got kicked out but I just went with him. I bought him a root beer float and we got some ice on his face. He really took a punch for me…I wouldn’t have expected that.

“Sannie?” I looked over at him, he had ice cream down his chin.

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t have to.” I blushed a little and looked away, he had a bruise forming on his chin.

“I didn’t but I did it anyway.” he looked at me. “They’re wrong anyways.”

“It’s okay if they’re right.”

“But they aren’t! I think your braces are cool! I mean you have metal on your face that’s so cool!”

He knew what to say. He always did…just in his own Sannie way.

The next few days passed like the summer breeze floating in off the water. They were warm and inviting, relaxing and joyous, the smell of salt drifted in, but it felt like something was missing. Something I usually felt when I was here was whole, and this time I feel like half. I feel like there’s something missing.

“Y/n? Hello?” there was a knock on my door. “Please, it's too bright out!”

“Seonghwa?” I opened the door. “Oh my god what are you-Wooyoungie!” I jumped on them both. “What are you two doing here??” I pulled them both in.

“We missed you and your birthday is coming up soon! It’s a big deal.” Wooyoung smiled. “Besides, the company can last while we’re gone.” Seonghwa smiled.

“Who’s the hot neighbor?” Wooyong smirked.

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I don’t have any ideas anyway.” he chuckled. “Is that your long-lost love from when you were a child?”

“It’s San, the guy I grew up with…he filled out nicely.”

“San? As in the one that dumped a bucket of sand on you?”

“Or the one who beat up that kid on the beach?”

“They're the same San.” I chuckled.

“Okay so he’s definitely coming to the party.” Wooyoung smiled.

“NO, No parties.” I said. “I don’t want a birthday party, they’re dumb.”

“Aww what? Too bad.” Wooyoung confirmed…of course he did. I should just kick them out.

There was a loud knock at the door.

“Coming!” I called out and opened it and there was San out of breath and disheveled. Wow. I uh.

“Are you ok? I smelled something and-” he caught a glimpse of Seonghwa and pulled me closer to him. “y/n, he’s-”

“Hey don’t worry I already know.” I pat his face and pulled his stare away. “Don’t be the beach hero again, these are my best friends.” I chuckled. “San, this is Seonghwa, a vampire and Wooyoung, a warlock.” I nodded and pointed to them. “We’re just coworkers.”

“You never told me you knew a Kitsune?”

“A what?” I looked at Seonghwa. “You mean the thing from Naruto? Kyuubi?”

“Essentially, they’re very rare only a few clans still around.” he nodded.

“San isn’t a fox demon he’s…he’s my San.” I looked at him “You can’t just assume based on the eyes.”

“It’s the stench, he smells like a dog. Not as bad as werewolves though.”

“Oh shut up you-”

“I said enough!” I looked at them. “Look, rare mythical creature or not, I'm not going to put up with this. We’re all friends so if you’ll excuse me I’m going to walk away and get some water…try not to tear each other's head off.”

As soon as I left San’s side I wanted to curl right back into it. That’s what I was missing..affection. I was always missing affection, the affection of someone else. I never even had a boyfriend until I was in college. Of course, it was a vampire, he was a douchebag too I can’t even….

“Hey.” Wooyoung knocked on my door. “What’s up buttercup?”

“Hi Woo…” I sighed. “I don’t know. I’m just confused right now.”

“Wanna talk about what’s giving you troubles?”

“No, I wanna figure out how to turn up the damn heat in this place I’m freezing every morning.” I sighed. “I’m sorry you don’t want to hear about this.”

“Have you and San ever dated?” he questioned out of the blue.

“No? Why would you ask that you know I only had one boyfriend.”

“You guys just….you looked good together like you fit perfectly together.”

“I don’t think so, I mean he was evil growing up, there was the time he threw a frozen water balloon at my back and I had a bruise the size of Texas.”

“Boys show affection in weird ways, like when I liked this girl in middle school, I had the idea of putting gum in her hair to get her to notice me, it worked but she hated my guts.”

“Well yeah, it was gum.” I looked at him.

“I’m just saying maybe he likes you a little? He seems pretty protective.”

“He barely knows me I haven’t seen him since I had braces.”

“You had braces?”

“See.” I frowned. “I just….I don’t know.”

“Hey the radio did say it was the summer of love.”

“Thank you Woo.” I rolled my eyes.

“Hey why don’t we have a party, like out by the bonfire, we can all hang out, meet him and his friends?”

“You just want to live a beach fantasy of throwing a beach party.”

“With Karaoke!” he smiled.

I gave in after a few days, I needed some social interaction and I knew I’d get annoyed if all I did was talk to Seonghwa and Wooyoung for a month. Plus I really wanted to spend time with San again.

“Want some help?” came the honey-like pout from over my trunk.

“Hmm? Oh hey.” I smiled lightly. “Um I think I got it.” I pulled the last of my groceries out of the trunk.”

“y/n?” San started “I-”

“Don’t apologize. You guys have different instincts than I do, I’m just a boring human after all.” I chuckled. “Just surprised is all.”

“I don’t think you’re boring.” he looked at the stuff in my hands. “Here before you drop that Watermelon.”

“Nah! I don’t need super strength!” I chuckled and he paused. He’d heard that sweet melodic voice say that before.

A pit grew in his stomach.

“Oh by the way I found some stuff from when I was growing up but I was wondering if you remember the carved fox that was in the living room? I can’t seem to find it but it was my favorite.” I set the things down on the counter and put them in their respective cabinets.

“Carved fox?” he looked at me.

“Yeah it was this wooden statute that looked really old, but I used to talk to it when I was a kid. I was by the fireplace.” I pointed. “It was from a birch tree and it was black and red and the fox was smiling and circling the moon I think, or sitting on it.”

He knew that statue, he carved it all those years ago for her. It hasn’t been in this house for centuries what was she talking about. It was his station to watch after the moon and watch the seas. How…

“Y/n?”

“Hmm? Oh my god, San your nose!” I rushed over and grabbed a napkin his nose had begun bleeding. “What did you do?” I chuckled. “You can’t go around bleeding on the floor it’s not good for you. Like you went to war with your finger.”

“Are you sure you’ve seen that statue?”

“Well yeah, it got me started on my love of foxes.” I tilted his head. “Are you ok? Really?”

“I’m fine honey.” he took my hand gently.

“Haven’t heard that one before.” I blushed and took my hand back. “You might want to go wash your face since…you know.”

San was confused, how had you seen it. How had you known…his head hurt, he wanted to talk to you and he also wanted to ask his father. He had so many questions and no answers. Who are you? Are you really just his neighbor? Are you his neighbor he had a crush on? You felt like more with each passing day. Your smile felt like sunshine and he wanted to curl up next to you..he wanted to keep you safe. Anything to keep you safe. He looked into you mirror and he almost screamed…he saw her..you..he saw you.

“Sannie, your tail is out.” she smiled at him as they brushed their teeth together.

“Oh do you not like the soft feeling?” he smirked watching her eyes sparkle.

“It tickles.” she chuckled as it ran along her leg.

“Must just be happy to see you.” he smiled and pulled her closer.

“San?” I called and knocked on the door, I opened it when I didn’t hear a reply and saw he had ran out of the window, the breeze moving the curtains.

I don’t understand why would he just leave like that, and why didn’t he use the door? He left his phone and everything. Did…Did I do something? Did something happen?

I went over to return his phone hoping he was there. No answer.

“Sannie?” I called out. “You left your phone!” Still no answer. “I’ll just slide it through the mail slot!” I sighed.

It had been a week since San bolted from my house, he had avoided me. I saw him talking with Wooyoung but if I went out he’d quickly find an excuse and leave. He wouldn’t even look at me. What had I done.

“Woo?” I knocked on my old childhood bedroom door. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hey yo, what’s up?” he opened the door.

“Is…Is San ok?”

“Hmm? Yeah? I mean he seems fine to me, maybe a little stressed.”

“Having fox problems?” Seonghwa spoke up.

“I don’t know what’s going on, he’s been avoiding me for a week and he won’t…he won’t look at me.”

“Have you ever heard of imprinting?” Segonhwa asked. “Here come sit down.” he patted the bed.

“You mean that thing they did in Twilight?” I looked at him.

“Okay well you already know that Vampires aren’t crystals so stop there. Imprinting is like what ducklings do on their mother.”

“Okay? What does that have to do with me and San?”

“Well I think he’s confused.”

“Hey I told you that in private.” Wooyoung interrupted.

“I think she deserves to know Woo.”

“Know what…Geez he told you guys but not me.”

“Look okay fine.” Wooyoung raised his hands. “But I’m calling him to tell him we’re telling you.” he left the room.

“San had someone he loved, a very long time ago.” Seonghwa started.

“Like a hundred years ago? Thousand?”

“Try more like a hundred thousand. He’s been around a long time.” he looked at me.

“I met him as a child though, You’re telling me he was a child for 100,000 years?”

“No he…it’s a trick, like they pull pranks and things it’s like that he was…tricking you into thinking he’s a child.”

“Okay…fine…keep going.” I rolled my eyes, this sounds dumb.

“San had imprinted on someone in his first hundred years, he loved her, they got married they were…she was perfect for him…he loved her.”

“Okay?”

“Y/n, please try to understand.”

“What. I’m not seeing how him avoiding me is explaining this.”

“Usually you imprint on a person, but sometimes when you’re really supposed to be with someone they…you can imprint on a soul.”

“So you’re going to tell me something dumb like we’re soulmates now? That I’m a reincarnation…okay jeez you guys are just crazy.” I sighed and stood up. “So what he’s freaked out because I remind him of her and he bolted because he doesn’t actually like me and, and what? I’m just supposed to be ok? Whatever this is stupid forget I asked anything.”

“It’s true.” came his voice from the doorway. “I…I’m scared and confused and…I don’t know. I want to just…Can you let me try to explain?” San looked at me. “Please?”

“I’ll give you one hour…” I looked at him angry. He has some nerve asking me to just..he left..he left me….why was I so relieved to see him back in the house…

“I promise, just please let me do what I can to make it right.”

“And then we’re having a party tonight!” Wooyoung finished.

“No.” I looked at him. “No party.”

“Shhh you listen to him, we’ll be out here.” Wooyoung shooed Seonghwa from the room.

“Look y/n this…this isn’t how I wanted it to happen.”

“Just start..please.” I crossed my arms.

“When I was new to this world…look I’m really quite an old man when you think about it. When I was still a pup, or a baby really…there was this girl. She was quiet and kind, she was gentle…all the things you are, a little weird and funny…”

“Okay?”

“She made me happy, I felt at home when we were together…I couldn’t explain it but I…I just wanted her to be here always.”

“You were in love.”

“I was in love..she is my everything. She was…my everything.” he looked at the ground sadness filling his eyes.

“Sannie?” I pulled his face up.

“I did the same stupid things I did with you, I pulled pranks on her, I would pull her into the ocean I would play fight with her…I was a kid. She was always there, and as we grew older I..I didn’t want her to just notice the dumb pranks I was pulling or hear her frustrated I wanted her to smile at me and tell me how her day was. I made this carving of a fox so I could always protect her.”

“San? What happened?” I felt my hands shake a little.

“The fight happened. I was being stupid, I was…I was being a child and I was reckless and I was….” he teared up. “It all happened so fast, I know how dumb and cliche it sounds, one moment we were yelling in the kitchen over something stupid, the next she threw her ring at me and stormed out of the house, it was raining and the moon was covered and…she rejected me. The imprinting…she said she didn’t want anything to do with me…it felt like someone had cut my heart out.”

“San I..” I was at a loss for words.

“I couldn’t take it back, I loved her. I wanted to be with her my whole life…I felt safe with her, like I didn’t have all this responsibility to live up to, like I was human….like her. I went to her funeral the day I learned she passed…she had a little fox engraving on the headstone.”

“Do you think she ever really stopped?” I caught his gaze.

“No…part of me believes that…I never thought I’d feel like this…until you moved in.” he met my gaze tears falling down his cheeks. “Even as stupid kids I liked hearing you laugh, it made me so happy. I don’t know why I pulled those pranks, I don’t even know why I thought they were funny.”

“It’s your nature dummy.” I nudged him.

“You remember stuff she did though…the fox carving, where I put my key, the nickname she called me. Y/n I know you aren’t her and I’m not expecting you to be her…I’m not even expecting you to like me back but please…I don’t…I don’t want to feel that way again. Please just…stay.”

“My mom always said I was drawn to you…like we were meant to be. I told her it’s all just stories and tales she told herself…or me to make me feel better.”

“Y/n.”

“Hey I let you talk it’s my turn.” I smiled softly and wiped his cheek. “I’m not her San…I’m not going to be her.”

“I know I-”

“San! I’m not done.” I pinched his cheek. “I’m not her, but I’d like it if you gave me a chance to be a new version of her….Let’s take it slow silly boy.” I squeezed his hand.

We talked for a little while longer, coming to an agreement. I’d help him move on and we’d see where it takes us.

“All I know is, I feel the best when you hug me.” I laughed softly and he pulled me into his chest.

Soulmates are strange,I never understood what it meant. I thought it was just clicking with someone…it’s a different kind of click though. One that feels like Home, it’s safe, and warm. San felt like home…San felt right and it’s where I wanted to be.

As it got closer for my time to leave things grew harder and harder…I didn’t want to go back I didn’t want this budding summer romance to end.

“You can stay?” San said as I rolled over to the furnace that was the boy next to me.

“I have my job San I can’t just…I can’t just quit.”

“Why can’t you work remotely? Lots of people do and like…then…you don’t” you could practically see him deflating.

“I…Let me go home…talk to my boss?” I looked at him a kissed his cheek. “We’ll work it out. We’ll work out. Ok?”

“Promise?” he looked at me.

“San I said we would try…I don’t want this to be a summer fling.”

“Me either…ok…You have my number and everything.”

“I do. I promise.” I chuckled.

Long story short by the time winter came I could finally work remotely…I came back. I came back and I had never been more happy that I came back, my little fox demon waiting for me on the front porch. Now instead of every summer it was everyday, every day turned into every year and every year turned into my lifetime. I saw his smile every morning we woke up together and in every smile I saw the bond we had created. Our bond had manifested in wonderful ways, first a child, then a ring, we fixed up the house and that was where I was more than happy to learn to meaning of soulmates. Our daughter was certainly happy as the years grew on to learn all she could about the best pranks to pull from her dad. This was my life, and it would be my life in every lifetime over, we got our second chance, and we got our time in each and every lifetime.

“Hi I’m y/n.” Said the 5 year old girl peaking behind her mom’s legs.

“I’m San.” the fox eyed boy smiled back. “Wanna play on the beach with me?”

“Promise not to get sand in my eyes Sannie?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” he smiled fondly.

“Your tail is out! It looks so soft!” she smiled

She always found her way back home. He always fell in love with her every time.