#Wetsuits For Kids

[soni-dragon]

some sketches for an au of sorts that’s cooking in my brain, where after all the Events they go into hiding to the route 11 desert and shoal cave, respectively

[quarterlifekitty]

I went to SeaWorld today (don't really support, I work with kids and it was a field trip) and we went to a sea lion show and there was a guy doing a preshow bit and to me he RADIATED Soap energy. He had a mashup of songs and danced to each one with so much energy and straight up sass. Interacted with the crowd.

Took one girl and had her dance with him up in the front area and danced, then did the catch me bit but ofc she didn't and he just turned around with like an exaggerated disappointed look and sent her back to her seat. It was fun

Wish he had been the show lol

I can 100% imagine a world where Johnny is that kind of unhinged animal trainer for marine mammals. He’s bursting out of the wetsuit. Picking the most anxious, nervous, pretty little thing he can spot in the audience for participation and puts his hands all over you. Moves his mic out of the way to whisper to you where to meet him after the show. Gets you as soaked as possible hoping to see more of the outline of your tits.

He has one of the seals trained to pull girls into the water when he gives a secret signal so he can dive in to pull them out and ‘save’ them, breathes hard into the mic and gives some impromptu speech about how at the end of the day, these are wild animals at heart and they’re not predictable and can’t be pets!

Is that anything

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

How would Jake jr (Bite father , Bite son episode) look in your style? 🧐

(finally got the gut to actually ask--)

*gasp* Our favorite imaginary Junior???

It's been literal years, but I still remember Jakey Jr. 😭 Honestly, I always thought that episode was super sweet and that Jr.'s design was already so perfect! He might have suffered carbon copy syndrome with Jake a bit, but there were details that set him apart that I really liked - Jr. is taller and his face is less squarish, and his haircut was pretty rad. And the detail that I always privately imagined was him with blue dragon-silverish eyes. 😰 I'm sure I wasn't the only one who thought that those details Jake imagined were inherited from Rose (tall, more rounder face, just overall cool lol).

Also, I really don't know why but I was always curious why Jake imagined Jr. in surfer get up? During the episode, neither Jake nor his Dad did any surfing, but for some reason Jake specifically imagined his own kid in a wetsuit. Dunno, I really thought it was a neat detail, for some reason.

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 9.2 | full chapter without breaks on AO3

content warning: more fluff, more laughs, a little bit of insecurity from Miguel and reader, underage drinking (all of the characters are aged 18-20 so by USA standards, that's underaged. but college kids will be college kids. and so will high school graduates.), a mention of an edible like once, Hobie is here! (fr this time), Pavitr too, even more jealous Miguel, 18+ so MNDI, wet wet relations, fellatio, cunnilingus, Miguel is a munch (his fantasies are unraveling finally), cum play if you squint, partially public indecency???, I think that's it

word count: 9.3k, halfway proofread (I split it really weirdly so I apologize for that lol)

Some of the links used in this part are just to give you an idea of what's going on! Enjoy! 🩵

Prev (Part 9.1) | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who texts Tyler while you’re in the shower. 

Dad…Tyler:

“She really loved it. Thank you so much for helping me out with this, Dad.”

“Any time, son! I’m glad everything went well! I can have my people send over the video form of the animation if you would like.”

“Sure, I can have it on hand.”

“And I take it, you like the yacht?”

“It’s extremely nice! Captain Barrett is pretty cool.”

“Don’t tell him you said that or it’ll go to that funny mustache.”

“Ok 😭”

“I did have a question though.”

“Ask away.”

“What did Kron do to his other boat?”

“What didn’t he do to that boat? He had too many friends on that thing all with a mix of substances I could never dream of combining. Their parents had to come drag them out lest the police get involved. I’ve never helped Kron with any event or party since then. He hasn’t earned it and he embarrassed me greatly.”

“Would you be more comfortable if we held off on the drinks?”

“See son, the difference between you and Kron is that you understand the legal ramifications of doing something so idiotic as having illegal items on a property that isn’t yours as a minor. You also have integrity and respect, something that Kron has lost sight of. I trust that neither you nor your friends will do anything too drastic.”

“Yeah, there’s no crazy stuff happening this weekend.”

“I believe it.”

“Get back to your girlfriend now. Thank you for checking up on your old man. Tell her I said hello.”

“For sure. Good night.”

“Good night!”

GymRat!Miguel who opens his arms up to you as you come out of the bathroom. You hurried to lay in his arms, skin warm from your shower. 

You snuggle up under his chin, “Today was really fun.”

“Yeah?” he rubs your head slowly. 

“Mm hm. Now, we should sleep.”

A yawn racks through Miguel’s body, the day of driving settling in his bones. 

You keep your ear on his chest. The steady tempo of his heart and his breaths lulling you to sleep. 

GymRat!Miguel who is still asleep by the time you wake up. You both ended up at opposite ends of the giant bed with just your legs intertwining. 

You look over to Miguel and watch his chest rise and fall, his snores crescendoing at each breath. 

You lay your head back on the pillow, eyes tracing the shape of his face in this morning light. The water was calm, giving the boat a slight rock. Some seagulls flew by, their sounds fading in and out. 

You scoot closer to get a better look, your hand lightly following the line of his face. 

His eyes flutter open at your touch, a brown sea welcoming you. 

“G’morning,” his voice is terribly deep like this. The timbre shoots straight to your core. 

“Morning. I didn’t mean to wake you up,” you whisper. 

Miguel moves to lay his head on your chest, taking a deep breath. “It’s fine. The sight made me feel like I went to heaven.”

He pulled you closer by the waist, “Ten more minutes?”

“Rest up all you need, bear-bear.”

GymRat!Miguel who is just as excited as Gabriel when he gets to the deck that morning. The agenda was swimming with the dolphins before everyone else got here.

Miguel and Gabriel were practically buzzing in their matching wetsuits. Dana snuck in a video laughing at the twin looks on their faces. 

GymRat!Miguel who sneaks glances at your form on the way to the dolphin center. You’re leaning over the edge of the smaller boat, the wind against your face. The wetsuit was doing wonders for the curve of your figure. 

GymRat!Miguel who ends up going into a nerd session about dolphins with Gabriel. Both of them are spitting out dolphin facts at the speed of light. 

 “I just think that if you were to be any dolphin, it’s so obvious that you would be an orca.” 

“But why, though? Because I’m big? That’s a new low, even for you, Gabri.”

“No, it’s because you’re mixed, obviously. Killer whale aka orca aka dolphin. Duh, Miguelito.”

“Don’t ‘duh’ me because that doesn’t even make sense. Orcas are still classified as dolphins even though they look like whales.”

“Just like you-”

“I’m going to smack you off the side of this boat if you finish that sentence.”

“Resulting to violence just like a killer whale, what a shame.”

“You’re so annoying. Orcas are smart, they speak different languages based on their pod, and the name was actually ‘whale killers,’ not ‘killer whales.’ That would make me an orca, but I would not be one because I would never take care of my family but abandon my children.”

“A lot of male dolphins abandon their families. A lot of them hang out with the bros and come back.”

“Female dolphins can do the hard work of carrying babies from ten to eighteen months, so enlighten me, Gabri. What are the male dolphins doing with the bros?”

Gabriel squinted his eyes and put his finger up weakly, “This is a trick question.”

“No it’s not! Don’t you know the answer?” Miguel put his hands out, as if waiting for a physical object to be presented. 

“I do know the answer, which is why I don’t want to give you the satisfaction.”

“Well, now I want to know because you two nerds wouldn’t shut up about bottlenose dolphins just five minutes ago,” Dana scoffs as she takes off her shades, the morning sun too much for her. 

“That’s not the same energy you had last night when I-”

“No one wants to hear that.”

“Shut up, Miguel,” Gabriel snaps back. “They take care of other dolphin babies. And sometimes become friends with benefits with their homies.”

Dana makes a disgusted face, “And you’re defending that? Wow. So when I have your kid you’re going to leave me and go do fuck all with Pavitr?”

“No, Dana, I would never do that! We discussed this! Miguel is going to study seahorses, make me a safe mutation, and I’ll carry them for you!”

“I don’t even study genetics so I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“So you wouldn’t carry her babies?” Gabriel gestures towards you in a panic. 

Miguel looks towards you at the front of the boat, watching the water go by. 

He thought of you as a mom, carrying his kid, holding their hand in the park, picking decor for the nursery. 

He thought of you under him, taking everything he could give you and more. You screaming his name as the bed creaks loud enough to fill the hallway. 

“I would, but that’s not the question right now.”

“Why did it take you so long to answer that?” Gabriel’s tone was high. 

“Oh my god, he was thinking of getting her pregnant,” Dana says in horror. 

“Oh, so I have to listen to your escapades, but I can’t even daydream in silence?”

GymRat!Miguel who listens intently to the staff. No harm shall come to any dolphin on his behalf.  

GymRat!Miguel who makes friends with one of the cute dolphins. Her name is Dotty because of the few spots she has on her body. 

She immediately gravitates towards Miguel. Her blowhole squeals constantly whenever Miguel talks to her. 

“Well I think Dotty is in love!” the instructor yells from across the enclosed water. 

GymRat!Miguel who laughs at Dana who keeps getting splashed on by the baby dolphins. 

GymRat!Miguel who looks so cute with his nose touching Dotty’s rostrum. They’re spinning in circles with Dotty clicking away like a cat purring. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches you interact with one of the bigger dolphins whose name is Mon. 

“Mon and Dotty are a couple, but he’s a little sad today because Dotty isn't giving him any attention,” the instructor says with a giant pout on her face. 

Even Mon’s clicks sounded sad and Miguel didn’t know how that was possible. 

Mon places his chin on your shoulder and you’re immediately in love, rubbing his body and consoling him and his broken heart. 

“It’s ok, Mon. You can hang out with me,” you say in a sweet voice. Mon’s fins squeezed you even tighter. 

A sweater, some random guys, Dana, Blake, and now a dolphin. Miguel can’t win. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches Mon click and spin happily when you feed him fish for doing a trick. 

“That was so good, Monie!” you pat his head, and he leans into your hands. 

GymRat!Miguel who thinks Dotty and Mon are a bit like you and him. They’re twirling in the water together, rubbing their bodies close. 

GymRat!Miguel who sits with you on the boat ride back, watching the dolphins race with the boat halfway to the yacht.

GymRat!Miguel whose eyebrows raise when he sees one of your friends as you guys step off the boat. 

“Hobie!” you squeal, running to hug the lanky figure. 

“My girl! How have you been, love?” he asks, a deep London accent lining his words. 

Love?

“I’m so happy you made it! How’s the apprenticeship? Any new techniques to share?”

“A lot more than techniques, if you know what I mean?” Hobie leaned on you as he snickered away. 

Miguel might pop a fuse. 

GymRat!Miguel who lingers by as you chat away with Hobie. The two of you are catching up for a while and Miguel wants to walk back to the room with you so you can help him take off this tight wetsuit. 

He’s lightly kicking at a puddle with his arms crossed when you call his name. 

“This is my boyfriend, Miguel,” you say, coming up to him and wrapping an arm around his.

“He’s a big one, innit?” Hobie says, holding his hand out. “Hobie Brown.”

Miguel shook it with a sturdy hand, “Miguel O’Hara. Nice to meet you.”

“How long have you known this firecracker for?” Hobie gestured to you with a smile.

“It’ll be a year once August hits. The best ten months of my life, honestly,” Miguel says, leaning down to kiss your temple. 

“She’s got you wrapped ‘round her finger, yeah?” Hobie smirked at the love drunk look on Miguel’s face. “Yeah, you’re a goner. That’s just how she is. One encounter and it’s hard to let go.”

Hobie went to pick up his one backpack, a master at light travel from how much he’s moving. 

“Don’t let me stop yous two from partying. See ya in an hour, love,” Hobie said walking away. 

You look up at Miguel, “The best ten months?”

“Yep. Love?”

“It’s a British thing. He’s friendly!”

“Hm.”

“And definitely demisexual.”

“Hmph.”

“You’re very territorial.”

“For good reason.”

GymRat!Miguel who makes it to the boardwalk after he’s changed to greet their friends and guide them to the yacht. 

There’s a lot of you, especially from Gabriel and Dana’s graduating class. Miguel greets everyone warmly. 

It feels good to unite his old friends and newer friends together.

GymRat!Miguel who makes a plan to be the best at every activity on the agenda today. Yeah, he wanted to have fun, but for some reason, he felt like he had something to prove.

He walks back out to the top deck to see Hobie laying out on the flat slats under the shade. His arms are crossed and his shades are hiding his full expression. 

From here, Miguel can hear Blake chatting it up with some of the girls that are hanging out near the on-deck pool. He looks over the edge and sees him grinning from ear to ear as the girls giggle. He clicks his teeth at the scene. 

“Big Migs, c’mere for a sec, will ya?” Hobie said.

“He’s a bit chatty, that one. An overachiever if I’ve ever seen it.”

On second thought, Miguel might like Hobie a lot.

“All morning, he’s been spitting nothing but rubbish. Going on and on about the boat and the city and his socials. Nothing of substance, just straight air.”

Miguel snickered, “It feels like that’s all he’s got going for himself. His daddy’s boat, his daddy’s money, and his face.”

Miguel recounts the events from last afternoon. How he lacked respect for not only him but for you and your personal space. 

“Not gonna lie, I’d smash his head in,” Hobie replied calmly.

Miguel let out a hearty laugh, “I wanted to and honestly, I could, but there are several circumstances stopping me. Such as the fact that we’re on his dad’s property.”

“But deep it, when’s the next time you’ll need to be on this thing?”

Miguel is about to respond in agreement when you round the corner from the stairs. 

“There you two are!”

You smile at the two of them, “Are you guys getting along? Has Hobie convinced you to join him on some scheme across the country?”

Miguel took a deep breath before responding. He knew what outfits you brought with you, a lot of them matched his own, but it was still like new whenever you put them on. 

He didn’t have enough time in the world to cherish your beauty. 

“They’re not schemes, baby, they’re elaborate plans,” Miguel responds.

“Man like, Migs!” Hobie hops up and drags his arm around Miguel’s shoulders. 

You shake your head with a warm smile on your face, laughing at Hobie’s antics.

“And you look stunning. Though, I’m not too sure if it’s fit for hoverboarding.”

“That’s because I’m jet skiing and shaking ass, Hobie. You guys can have fun flipping in the air.”

“Right on, then. Migs and I have important business to attend to.”

Miguel nods, “Extremely important.”

You eyed them both, “Uh huh.” They left in a controlled frenzy, Hobie pulling his wicks up with a giant band and Miguel cracking his neck.

You didn’t even want to know. 

GymRat!Miguel who is a bit peeved that Blake has to give the water hoverboard demonstration. He’s staying up there longer than necessary, grabbing girls to balance them in the middle of his board while he flips them around.

You’re standing next to Miguel during it all, waiting for Miguel’s turn so you can get a video.

“Hey!” Blake yells out in your direction. “Wanna take it for a spin?”

You shake your head and yell back, “No, I’m good!”

“Just three minutes! Don’t be scared! I won’t drop you.”

“No thanks,” you bite back, voice irritated. 

Blake smiles with a hand on his hip, ready to convince you, when Hobie pipes up, “The lady said no. Can we move on?”

Blake’s face cracked a bit as he told one of the crew members to kill the power in the waterboard. 

“What is up with him?” you mumble to yourself. 

“I think he likes you,” Pavitr remarked. “He wouldn’t stop asking Gabriel questions about you.”

“He’s really pushing it,” Miguel scoffed. Not only was he being overly flirty to every girl on board, he was adamant about getting your attention. “No wonder he gets along with Kron.”

You sported a twisted lip as you watched him strap up one of Gabriel’s friends. “I don’t know. Even if I was single, he’s a bit too…tiny. Communal.”

The laugh that left Miguel wiped the scowl right off of his face.

GymRat!Miguel who gets the hang of the hoverboard after one try. You’re recording him with a big smile on your face as he tries to spell “love” in the air. 

GymRat!Miguel who dies laughing at Gabriel’s horrible attempts at staying in the air. His body keeps shaking like a baby deer and he’s steady yelling in garbled Spanish. 

By the time his turn is over, Miguel is laid out on the boardwalk with tears down his face.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Miguel,” Gabriel cries out.

Miguel just rolls and laughs some more. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches you expertly drive a jet ski from the edge of the yacht. You’re shouting with one arm in the air as you race Dana and some of her friends. 

Miguel leans his head on his hand as he watches you zoom across the ocean. Your skin is glowing, your smile is sparkling, and your laugh is bright. 

GymRat!Miguel whose bubble of thoughts involving you, him, the water, some fruit, and a floatie is popped when Blake’s voice pierces through. 

“She’s pretty good at that.”

“Yep.” Maybe if Miguel ignored him enough, he’d go away.

“Looks like a dream, too.”

“Are you dumb or something?” Miguel turns his body, gripping the rail to not get in Blake’s face, but extending his height to cower over him.

“Woah,” Blake holds his hands up. “It was a compliment, dude, chill out. You’re not mad at me for finding her beautiful, are you?”

“That’s not what the fuck you’re doing and you know it.”

Blake makes a confused face, laughing off Miguel’s statement, “Kron said you guys were open.”

“Does it look like we’re fucking open?”

“Well, at first-”

“Keep talking and you’ll end up just like him. Knocked out. Do you want that?” Miguel edged closer to him. “Huh?”

Blake bristles, ready to defend himself when his head is knocked to the side. 

He looks next to him to see a gaggle of girls all with waterballoons and nerf guns. They yell at him to come on and pick a side. 

Blake scrambles to join them.

Miguel is about to follow when Hobie sweeps in front of him, “Cool it.”

GymRat!Miguel who almost takes an edible from Hobie but decides against it. 

“The offer is open all weekend.”

“Noted.”

GymRat!Miguel who gets roped into playing some games to start off the night, one of which is Never Have I Ever with shots. 

It started off innocently with things like peeing in a pool and cheating on a test to which everyone looked in shock at Miguel when he put a finger down. 

“I’m smart but if there’s a group effort to get the right answers, I’m not going to say no.”

Then it went left field and personal with things like threesomes, drunkenly fighting with others, and streaking. 

“Never have I ever…received head from a partner!”

A few of the guys put a finger down, groaning out and snickering as they had to take another shot. 

Miguel was trying not to dwell on how many experiences he lacked compared to the group, a lot of them younger than him. 

He rubbed his tongue across his teeth. He didn’t want to show his irritation on his face. 

Looking across the circle, he could see Gabriel’s eyes get wide, staring off beside you. 

Miguel followed his line of sight landing on you with a finger down and a shot in your hand. 

What the fuck. 

Who the fuck beat him to it? Where the fuck did it happen? When the fuck did it happen? How the fuck did he not know?

He’s ready for the game to be over. 

“Miguel is putting in work!” one guy pushes his elbow against Miguel’s side, laughing and patting his shoulders. 

Well, if people think he did it, it’s not so bad. 

“Oh my god, girl, how was it?” Dana’s friend asked you. 

Miguel tried his best not to scream bloody murder. 

“It was,” you pause, looking up to ponder. “It was something! Not particularly fun or good. My ex wasn’t the best at listening so he just poked at me. I faked everything that night.”

Miguel smirked. There were no big shoes to fill because they were never taken out of the box. Or even out of the store. 

“That sucks. I bet he thought you were in heaven.”

You laugh with the girls, joking in a way similar to the women that flooded Miguel’s for-you page. 

Miguel stepped away to get a breather. If he stayed any longer, he might do something drastic. 

GymRat!Miguel who is leaning on the boat when Gabriel comes to check up on him. 

“You ok, Miguelito?”

“Yeah, I’m alright. A little overwhelmed so I need to reset,” Miguel wrung his wrists while he let the sea breeze cool him down. 

“Is it the game? Don’t feel so bad,” Gabriel leans closer to Miguel and speaks in a stage whisper. “Some of them are a little too fast for their own good.”

Miguel snickered. Gabriel was definitely tipsy. 

“Thanks, Gabri.”

“Anytime. Don’t let them bring you down. You’re my perfect Miguelito. My pure baby!” Gabriel kissed him on the cheek.

“Ugh,” Miguel laughed and wiped at his wet cheek.

“Don’t wipe away at my love, broski.”

GymRat!Miguel who is guided by you in a dance. You’re a little tipsy and giggly, holding onto him as you dance to the music. 

Miguel just holds onto your hips and smiles with you. 

GymRat!Miguel who is locked in on your body as you grind against him. You’re arching your back and looking at him with a sparkle in your eye and Miguel feels like a wild animal.

When you lean back against him, he whispers in your ear about a private party just for the two of you. You bite your lip and turn to look at him. His eyes are tracing your lips and his hands are groping you. 

GymRat!Miguel who laughs at you as you wish everyone a good night quickly.

“I’ll see you guys in the morning!” you shout to your friends as you pull Miguel behind you to the room.

GymRat!Miguel who waits for you on the bed while you use the bathroom. 

He’s excited for an intimate night with just you. Parties were fun but it really couldn’t beat the serenity of smaller groups. It especially couldn’t beat talking all night with you. 

Everyone else was chilling out in other parts of the yacht, back in their hotel rooms, or night paddle boarding. 

You’re in the bathroom staring at the thin fabric in your hand. 

Miguel told you that there was a pool involved. 

You bought a micro bikini during a surge of confidence. It looked so cute on the model and you wanted to feel the same way. 

Now you’re standing in the bathroom freaking out, worried to death over the flimsy material. You were excited about Miguel seeing it, but you couldn’t shake your own nerves about how everything would play out. 

A knock at the door makes you jump.

You crack the door and peer up at Miguel. 

“You ok in there?” he asked, eyebrows pinched. 

“Yeah, I’m ok! I’ll be out in just a sec!”

You bite the bullet and place the bikini on. 

You didn’t account for your areolas to poke out beyond the triangles. You bit your lip as you turned to check out your backside.

At least your ass looked great. 

In a nervous motion, you pull your coverup over you and pull your hair up so that it doesn’t get too ruined by the water. It was now or never. 

GymRat!Miguel who holds your hand as he guides you to the private area. You’re squeezing his hand so tight. 

One of the stewardesses smiles as she sees you two coming. She stands next to a rope cutting off the area. 

“Good evening to you both! I hope you’ve been enjoying your stay so far,” her voice is polite and even. “Tonight, it’ll be just you two enjoying the Galaxy. If you need anything, just press the call button on the wall and I’ll be right down.”

She unlatches the rope and holds her arm out in the direction of the stairs.

You both slowly descend, careful not to slip on the trippy-looking wood. 

Taking a step into the room, Miguel stares in awe at the glowing pool. 

There’s petals fluttering about, small fairy lights surround the corners to add extra light. Looking up, you both can see the night sky with the stars adorning it. 

“This is beautiful,” you say, the lights surrounding you glittering in your eyes. 

You were staring at the stars and the lights but Miguel couldn’t help but to think that you were the most beautiful part of the room. 

He said this much to you, watching as you bent your head down hiding the smile on your face. Miguel lifted it back up and kissed you under the light of the stars. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah, let me just go take this off.” 

You walk towards a chair with folded towels placed on it. 

“Miguel, these have our names on them!” you say with shock, running your fingers over the embroidered letters. Hearts surrounded the names and you felt fuzzy from the implication of the stewardess preparing this. 

“Yeah, I heard it was a part of the couple’s bundle,” he shouts from the pool. It wasn’t really a part of the bundle, but Miguel suggested it way before the trip. 

His back was turned to you, trying to set up a speaker by the pool. 

The moment was perfect, so you opened a champagne bottle and poured two glasses. You took a huge gulp of one and removed your slip. 

GymRat!Miguel who hears you entering the water, so he hurries to pick out a song. 

The mood needs to be right. 

He turns to you and nearly drowns at the sight. (Art is not affiliated with this fic, but I couldn't find any plus-size women in real life on Pinterest with this type of bikini! Please give this artist some love, I love their art!)

You’re coming down the stairs with two glasses in your hand and your skin on full display. The strings are digging tight into your skin and your breasts are practically spilling out from every side. 

Miguel is stunned.

“Come grab your drink, Miguel,” your voice is like butter in his ears. 

His eyes don’t leave you as he swims across the pool. The only sounds that could be heard are the water moving around him and the music playing. When he gets closer, he stands up, water dripping down his body. He’s breathing hard and is laser-focused on your frame. 

You feel an array of emotions. You feel like running, jumping, maybe hiding. His gaze is too heavy and he hasn’t spoken a word yet. 

You don’t know how long you two stare at each other before Miguel breaks the tension, “You’re going to be the death of me.”

He takes the glasses from your hand with one hand and picks you up in the other. You cling to him as he goes to the edge of the pool, places one glass down and chugs the other. 

In a flash, you’re sitting on the edge and he’s holding his body out of the water in order to kiss you. 

He pushes your mouth open, pulling at your lip with his teeth. He was desperate, wanting more. 

Your hands find your way to his hair, the tips wet from his swim. You card your fingers through his locks, opening your mouth wider as Miguel groans onto your tongue. 

He can’t stop, body moving forward the deeper the kisses get. Your legs open wider and your hands fall down Miguel’s back. You go lower than usual, pushing your hands under his swimsuit, fingertips grazing over the skin of his ass. 

Miguel parts, spit-ridden mouth red and messy. 

“You’re making this so hard for me,” he says against your lips. You’re both panting into each other’s mouths. 

Your body feels like jelly. The way that he’s looking at you fills you with desire, “Making what hard?” You’re quivering and clenching as his eyes seem to get darker. 

“Baby,” Miguel kisses the corner of your lips then your jaw. He moves to where your jaw and neck connect, licking  “Amor. I can’t.”

You move your head, encouraging him to continue, “You can if you want to.”

“No, I’m supposed to take this slow,” his mouth moved to your collarbone, sucking at the skin as you squeezed your thighs around him. “I need to take this slow.”

He gets to your breasts, pressing your nipples through the material and watching as your areolas poked out more. “Mierda.”

You try to talk as Miguel takes one breast into his mouth, “It’s ok to want more. I want, ugh, I want you to take more.” He pulls at your nipple, watching as it rises more through the fabric. His thumb traces it, causing you to twitch in his hold. 

He continues to rub over the fabric as he kisses down your stomach. The string is wrapping around your stomach like a gift just for him. 

“Tomorrow, baby,” he says into your skin. “I’ll take more tomorrow.”

He needed to stop before he broke the promise he made to himself. 

He hears you whine as he gets eerily close to your sex before jerking his body straight. 

“Why?” you sound so needy and broken. 

“Because,” he kisses your pout away. “Tomorrow, I’m going to take all I need. You just need to trust me. Please.”

You nod your head, heart pounding with his words. 

GymRat!Miguel who lets you persuade him into swapping places. All it took was a few blinks of your eyes and Miguel was swooning.

“I saw you walk away during the game today. I wanted to make sure that the next time you play, you’re able to put a finger down.”

That’s what you told him with a sweet smile on your face.

Now you’re rubbing up his thighs and Miguel is about to pass out from the view of you peering up at him. Your eyes were foggy and the slope of your neck to your chest was glistening. From this angle, Miguel could see the curve of your ass with the bikini barely covering it.

You run your hands down his chest, fingers dancing along the slopes and planes, leaving a wet trail in your wake. Miguel’s stomach tightens as you make it below his belly button, the sensation of your fingertips across his happy trail building a fury in his core.

You kiss him through his swimsuit causing him to jump.

You hold his thighs and tilt your head to lean on one, “Are you nervous, Miggy?” Your knuckles rake against his groin, lingering in spots that made his inner thighs clench the most.

“I,” Miguel is trembling like a leaf. He can barely get the words out from how much energy he's using to hold himself up. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” You lift your body from the water a little, pressing your tits closer to his clothed sex. “Baby, I need you to know. I can’t go further without your permission.”

Miguel feels like he could cum right now.

“I’m really nervous, but I want to experience this.”

You hum as you start to pull at his waistband. His eyes scrunch closed as his dick springs up. 

You’re met with a sight you had missed. The size is still as intimidating as the last time. 

You rub his thighs and give yourself a quiet pep talk. You were determined to make your boyfriend feel good. 

Miguel looks back down at you and swallows dryly, anxious at the look in your eyes and your silence, “If it’s too much, w-we can stop here-”

“No.”

The first lick of his tip has Miguel rising off of the pool edge, pre-cum escaping him.

He whines, embarrassed at his lack of control, but his dick is twitching from the sensation.

“Miguel,” your hands are back on his hips at a flimsy attempt to hold him down. “You need to be careful, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby right now.” Miguel’s voice is winded like he’s been running a marathon.

You look up at him. His mouth is twisted up and his eyebrows are furrowed. His stomach keeps shaking and his elbows don’t know if they want to bend or extend. When he looks down at you, he lets out a whimper, dick jerking against his will.

You hold your lips right above the head, the heat of it making you excited, “Baby.”

Miguel jerks again as you take his tip into your mouth, more of his pre-cum slipping out. His body is wound tight and he’s losing sense of it. Your mouth is so warm and he’s crying out from just you suckling along the head. He would be grateful with just this alone.

You push yourself lower, mouth adjusting to the widening girth. You don’t know if it’s the champagne combined with the other drinks you’ve had today, but the taste is making your mind fuzzy. 

You hum as you move your tongue along the underside of his length, his essence melting into your mouth. Miguel continues to twitch against your lips. 

You look up and he just groans when his eyes connect with yours. 

“P-pretty,” he stutters out, brain-to-mouth filter completely disintegrating. One of his arms covers his mouth as he fights to quiet down. There’s no telling what the stewardess could hear from above. 

You decided to go deeper, wanting to hear him some more. You make it halfway down before you grip his shaft and give it a few semi-dry pumps. 

Miguel just about shouts at the sensation, legs jerking enough to splash the water around you. 

Satisfied with the reaction, you release him with a pop and slide your tongue down to the base, trying to get him as wet as possible for what you’re about to attempt to do. You pucker your lips to leave wet kisses all over his shaft, sucking occasionally. 

All Miguel can do is whimper and shake. 

You hold him, sliding your hand up and down, applying pressure whenever you glide over the top, “You can hold on to me.”

Miguel shakes his head and releases his bottom lip from his teeth to speak, but his words are jumbled up in a heated mess. 

“Say it again, Miguel. I don’t understand,” you bring your mouth to the head again, this time, cupping his balls as you slide back down. 

Early spurts of cum land in your mouth as Miguel uselessly grips at the flat ground. He’s moaning out your name and if you weren’t sliding him down your throat, you would think he’s crying for you. 

“I-I don’t wanna hurt you,” Miguel takes heavy breaths in the middle of his sentence. 

Even like this he was oh so sweet. You don’t push it and continue on. 

As you reach the hilt, you force yourself to relax, thumb pressed against your fisted palm. He was heavy on your tongue and you needed to find the right pace. 

You slowly move your head up and down, lips wet with spit and slick. You build a steady tempo that has Miguel involuntarily moving his hips and moaning in a senseless manner. 

He was conflicted, core heated at the sound of your throat barely taking him, but wanting to pull you off so you don’t choke all because of him. Hot tears ran down his face as you didn’t let up. 

He chooses the latter, foggy mind coming to a decision. His shaky hands reach towards your face, your cheeks hallowed and eyes closed. His hands make it to your cheeks when you reach the hilt again and swallow around his head. 

Miguel scares himself with the moan he lets out. 

You panic as you swallow his load, mouth completely full. 

Miguel hurries to pull you off, “Shit! Baby, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s ok,” you cough as you try to catch your breath. Drips of him that you didn’t swallow falling to your chest. “I wish you would have told me you were about cum, though.”

“I didn’t know!” he’s red in the face. “God, I’m so sorry!”

“Was it good, though?” You look up at him with lips and sparkling eyes. You’re holding your tits up so that his cum wouldn’t get in the pool. 

Miguel’s dick twitches like it’s trying to wake back up again. You notice it and a grin plants itself right onto your face. 

“Do you really have to ask me that?”

“Yes, Miggy.”

“I think my embarrassing finish was enough but yes, you made me feel good. It was way more than good. Now come out of the pool before you get any more ideas.”

“It wasn’t embarrassing!” you reply as Miguel picks you up from the water and on his stomach while lays back. “‘Was kinda hot. You felt so good that you couldn’t wait.”

You slide your finger over your cleavage to pick up the leftover essence and plop right in your mouth. 

Miguel grips your thighs as he looks up at you, “No, stop that, you vixen.”

You’re going to be the death of him for sure. 

GymRat!Miguel whose legs are like jelly when you help him up from the ground. His thighs haven’t shaken this much since his first leg day almost five years ago. 

“Do you need to lie down on the beach chair for a minute?” you ask with genuine concern. 

“Yeah, I think I need a second,” Miguel says, trying his best not to put his entire weight onto you. 

GymRat!Miguel who watches you watch him from the pool. You’re at the edge, leaning over and smiling at him while you let your body float. 

“Next time, I want to get, like, really hoarse. We should work on your resistance and my tolerance. Oh! And maybe we can do that thing where I hold your-”

“Amor, please. Let’s talk about this when I’m not halfway dying,” Miguel groans, dick half hard. “How are you so good at this anyway?”

“Practice! With my ex and like one other fling. They weren’t nearly as responsive as you, though.”

Miguel squints at your figure. 

“Or fun. Or satisfying. Or tasty. Or big. Can I do it one more time, Miggy?”

Miguel stares at you for a minute or two then groans, “Come on.”

You leave the water and walk over to him with glee. 

GymRat!Miguel who grabs lightly onto your head this time, fingers twitching occasionally. His legs are parted and you’re laid out on the horizontal part of the beach chair. Miguel is constantly looking from your face to your ass, experiencing a sensation overload. You take it easy on him this time, saving some of your tricks and things you wanted to try for a later date. 

The room is filled once again with Miguel’s grunts and whimpers plus your mouth and throat molding unto him. 

GymRat!Miguel who warns you this time. You let go with a pop and let him paint your open mouth. He shudders as you look at him through it all, pumping him slowly until he can't take anymore. A lonely tear escaped him, eyes heavy and chest heaving. 

GymRat!Miguel who barely makes it back up the stairs. He gives the stewardess a polite smile but you can barely look at her for longer than a second. 

“It was really lovely,” you say leaning into Miguel’s side, voice a little gone. 

“Yeah, amazing,” Miguel snickers. You nudge him at the back of his leg causing him to stagger a bit. 

The stewardess just laughs and wishes you both a good night. 

GymRat!Miguel who sleeps like a log that night. His soul needed to rejuvenate. 

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up a new man. He feels like he can conquer the world. As of now, the world is a new set of water activities with their friends. 

He kisses you on the cheek in your sleeping state makes his way out to the deck, wanting to do some morning stretches and yoga if he could fit it in. 

He walked out to see Dana talking to Blake, an indifferent look on her face.

“I just can’t believe he would lie to me like that, you know? Like that’s fucked up. Here I was, ready to get something and he set me up.” 

“Yeah, no. That really sucks,” Dana replies with a big yawn.

“I mean, I thought we were bros. I thought-”

“Miguel! My knight in shining armor,” Dana practically screams when she spots Miguel.

Blake tenses up so that if he mimics a timid raccoon. 

“Morning,” Miguel walks up to them.

Blake breaks out into a sweat, “Hey man, I’m sorry about last night. I would have never done that stuff if I knew. I don’t know why Kron told me you guys were open.”

“I think you need some new friends and better social cues,” Miguel brushed Blake off and walked with Dana onto the boardwalk. 

“Thank god you got here. That was his fourth iteration of ‘bro code should be respected.’ I was going to start screaming if he kept talking.”

GymRat!Miguel who lets Dana guide him in a mini yoga class on the beach. It’s pretty nice with the waves crashing and the birds squawking occasionally.

GymRat!Miguel whose downward dog pose is almost disrupted by you whistling from a spot in the sand. 

You and Gabriel had snuck up on Miguel and Dana, cackling like hyenas.

“Baby, I think you can go deeper,” you shout over the waves, encouraging Miguel to stretch.

“Gross,” Gabriel shudders. 

GymRat!Miguel who wants to use you for a flying pose but you refuse. 

“I’m not walking back with sand up my back.”

“Can we try it later, though?” Miguel pouted. 

“On safe carpet, yes.”

GymRat!Miguel who settles for a forward fold with you. You stretch your body across his back as he reaches down to touch his toes. 

It’s nice until you both switch positions. 

“I think I’m dying,” you gasp out. You sound like an old man on his last breath. 

“No, you’re not. You just need more practice,” Miguel chides from above. 

“When will I ever need this pose in life?”

“Flexibility is good for you!” Miguel replies after a while. 

“Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

GymRat!Miguel who tilts his head at your breakfast plate piled with pineapples. 

“You don’t want an omelet?”

“Maybe later.”

GymRat!Miguel who joined any group activity he could. 

From the inflatable water obstacle course,  

which Gabriel cheated on by the way,

To the boat tour, he got so many pictures for you for his rotating home screen,

To the banana boat rides that he almost lost his life on. It took you, Gabriel, and Dana to hold onto him. 

GymRat!Miguel who surprises you with a “rooftop” dinner on the horizon on the highest part of the yacht. You’re wearing that same green dress that made him go crazy in the dressing room. 

“This is so gorgeous, Miguel,” you sigh as you take in the small scene. 

From up here, you could see the breathtaking view of the ocean and the city. The sun was close to setting, people were out and about, and the group was partaking in last-minute activities like parasailing and water walking with bubble balls but you could only focus on the glow around Miguel. 

“Did you enjoy this weekend?”

You nod your head, shy with attention, “I really did. I had so much fun.”

“Even with boys that don’t understand the word ‘no’?”

“When I have my strong boyfriend there to defend me, what is there to be afraid of?” you smile at him. 

Miguel sits up straighter at that, chest puffing out.

You laugh at his state, “Seriously, though. This was one of the best summers ever. I’m really glad Mr. Stone arranged this and I’m even more glad that you brought me along.”

“Of course I did. You’re my girl. Mi amor, mi luz,” Miguel reached out to run your hand. “I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

Like a flower unfurled, your heart took in his words. You leaned across the table until you could brush your lips with his, only the sun peeking through the two of you. 

You let go and lean back a little. “I’m not letting go of you either. I want you by my side,” you say, eyes panning back and forth between his.

“And that’s where I’ll stay.”

GymRat!Miguel who covers your eyes on the way back to the room.

You’re whining because you don’t have nearly as much planned for him as he always does for you. 

“Amor, you could just text me an emoji and I would be happy. You deserve good things. Don’t worry about me.”

GymRat!Miguel who wraps his arm around you as you open your eyes to the room. 

It’s lit with soft lights, decorated lightly with rose petals in the shape of a heart on the ground, and a banner full of pictures with the two of you. Pictures from outside of lab, pictures of you with oil paint on your face, pictures of him piled with notes in the study lab. 

Pictures of you both on your early dates, pictures of you looking at him in the car, pictures where he’s kissing your face off. 

You gasp at the scene, feet stuck in the entryway.

“Surprise,” Miguel says into your ear, kissing the top of it.

“I don’t think I have any tears left,” your voice is watery enough to dispute that lie.

GymRat!Miguel who kisses you deeply in the middle of the rose heart. You’re cradling his face with one hand and rubbing your thumb across his sideburn with another.

You’re so wrapped up in his arms and his presence that you miss his question.

“Can you do what?”

Miguel’s hands find their way to your ass, pulling you even closer, “Can I please eat you out?”

When you stare at him with your eyebrows raised, it only pushes him to continue.

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I’ve dreamed about it, researched how to do it, studied it, daydreamed about it. I need to do it before I go crazy.”

He bent down to get on his knees, hands never letting go of your body.

“Please, baby. If you’ll allow me, I really want to make you feel good.”

At first, all you could think was that Dana was right and definitely a girl’s girl. Then, you looked down at Miguel whose head was pressed up against your torso, eyes pleading with you. 

You ran your hand through his hair, “You need to do it?”

“Uh huh,” he nodded, nuzzling into your body through your dress. 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to fake my reactions for you.” You didn’t have the heart to lie to him like that, especially when he’s looking at you like that. 

“You won’t have to,” Miguel mumbles into your skin. “I’m confident, but if something is weird, stop me immediately.”

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t give you time to think when you whisper out an “ok.” He’s picking you up by the legs and plopping you on the bed.

Like a switch, he’s kissing down your body, pulling at the stretchy green fabric to expose your skin. He’s crowding your space in the most desired way possible, a fire building within him.

“Miguel, the dress isn’t going to come off like that,” you say, internally laughing at Miguel tugging to no avail. 

He starts to pull so hard that you can hear threads ripping. Before you can stop him, there’s a makeshift slit up your thigh. 

You lean up on your elbows and give Miguel a look. He just stares sheepishly and lets you stand up to pull the dress off. 

“You gotta be more patient baby,” you purred, bending down to kiss his lips. 

When you lean back, you move backwards to sit on the bed. It’s just you, your black panties, and a hungry Miguel at your feet.

The further you inch up the bed, the more Miguel crawls to be closer to you. 

“Can I kiss you?” he breathes into your mouth, eyes never leaving yours.

“Please.”

Miguel melts into your skin, mouth molding to a familiar shape. His breaths are heavy and sporadic, too excited to finally know what you feel like on his tongue.

You reach to pull his shirt off, wanting to feel his chest against yours, wanting to feel the expanse of his back while he pressed up against you. Miguel follows your movements without letting up.

He sighed into your lips with pleasure as he let his hand flow down your body, grabbing a breast to massage. You hummed into his mouth, legs parting to bring him closer. Eager to please, Miguel slipped his shorts below his bulged, grinding against you.

You start to wrap your legs around his waist before Miguel interrupts you with a sturdy hand under your knee, and a promise to devour you to your neck.

GymRat!Miguel who groans when he slides your panties down your legs. The slope of your thick thighs to your ass has Miguel ready to burst. 

He gets on his knees to maneuver your legs up into your arms. You peek up at him over your knees, your wet cunt kissing the air. 

He licks his lips at the sight, taking a tentative touch at your wet lips. 

You jump at the sensation, the feeling of Miguel seeing you this vulnerable new. 

He bends down to kiss them, hands on the back of your thighs for extra support. Your core flutters as he takes a few more kisses to your sex, tongue reaching out to trace from the bottom to the top. At the first taste, Miguel is groaning into you, sending vibrations through your body. 

You sigh out in bliss as your grip loosens on your legs. Miguel flattens his body on the bed and spreads your legs wide, tongue continuing to savor the taste of you. 

At this angle, Miguel pushes his tongue in between your folds, feeling your warmth around him. He laps at your entrance slowly causing you to flutter around him and reach for his hair.

He slurps up the juices that try to escape him causing you to moan out his name. He just hums in response, breaching further inside. The more noises he makes, the wetter you get. The room is full of the sound of him lapping everything he gave you and your quiet moans.

“Miguel,” your breath hitched as he swiped over a particular spot. You look down at Miguel whose eyes are closed and hands are tight on your thighs. You feel a building heat seeing how much of a trance he’s in. 

Just when you feel a bud sprouting within you, he directs his attention towards your clit, searching until he finds it. At the first skim across it, your hips are bucking up off the bed. Miguel is quick to hold you down, placing his weight on your thighs and lapping continuously at the pearl. 

“Fuck!” you shout, hitting the mattress. You’re writhing beneath him, unable to control your body. “Don’t stop, Miguel, please.”

Miguel groans through it all, lapping up every drop. 

“Baby, I’m gonna-” a scream pushes through you as your body shakes with pleasure. Miguel takes it like a champ, slurping like you were his last meal.

As you twitch with aftershocks, Miguel barely gives you time to recover before he’s diving back into your entrance. You let out a sob, still sensitive and quivering as your legs move too close before Miguel growls and wraps his arms around your thighs to keep them open. 

He’s sinking into you, moving his tongue at a steady pace and sucking in between. Your moans were a pool of words from his name to begging to profanities crescendoing across the air.

Miguel would rarely part for air, adamant on bringing you to the hilt again. Your thighs were tensing up as Miguel kept going, fire building as you grabbed his hair and jerked your hips in time with his movements. 

Your climax comes in waves, your hands tighter in his hair and an arch in your back. When you clench over his tongue and your release hits his mouth, Miguel’s eyes start to roll and he’s rubbing his nose against your clit. You yell even louder as Miguel pushes his face incredibly deep into your pussy. He’s rutting into the bed at the sound of your voice, moaning with you. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

The captain swore that the VIP suite was soundproof, but your voice was practically carrying across the yacht. 

“She’s getting it good! Just like I promised,” Dana smiles to herself. 

“What did you promise? I was the one that gave Miguel tips.” Gabriel moved his headphones aside. 

“Oh yeah? And what tips did you give him?” She had her eyebrow raised and a silly smirk on her face. 

There was a pause of silence between them, only your voice filling up the space occasionally. Gabriel stared at Dana with a goofy grin.

He reached over and connected his phone to his speaker, putting on his special playlist. “Want to find out?”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

GymRat!Miguel who has to be pulled off your sex with both of your hands. His eyes are glazed over and his chin is soaked. Every chance you came after the first two times, your body would move up the bed and Miguel was sure to follow. 

“Ok, ok, baby,” you heave. Your legs are spasming, a result of the position and Miguel’s willingness to have you cum over and over again.

You were tapping out, body sore and tired. 

Miguel left a final long kiss to your clit, a trail of essence following his lips. He kissed up one of your thighs with a hungry look still in his eyes.

“¿Lo hice bien, cariño?” (Did I do it well, baby/darling?)

You trembled at his touch, limbs still heavy and mind in the clouds. 

Still, this was the best you’ve felt in a while.

You open your mouth to whisper, “Lo hiciste muy bien.” (You did so good.)

GymRat!Miguel who has to calm down internally at your answer. You don’t talk to him in Spanish often, but when you do, he’s over the moon. 

GymRat!Miguel who carries you to the bathroom to clean you off.

“Baby, I can’t walk. You’ll have to carry me for the rest of your life.”

“I’m totally fine with that.”

GymRat!Miguel who shocks you when he says that you don’t need to worry about bringing him relief. 

“Amor, I came when you came. After that, it was really all about you.”

“Oh!”

GymRat!Miguel who pats his past self on the back for asking the crew for extra sheets. He had no clue how the evening would go, but something in him told him to be overprepared. 

Those old sheets were beyond ruined. 

GymRat!Miguel who rubs your legs and stomach with aloe vera lotion after the shower. Not only did he stretch you a little further than you’re used to, but his bite marks left a big impression. 

GymRat!Miguel who cuddles you to sleep. If you wore him out the other night, he definitely put you through the ringer. You were gone after three rubs to your back. 

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up early with you to send off all of your friends. You’re yawning constantly, tears sticking to the corners of your eyes.

“Someone had a time last night,” Hobie snickers as he walks past with his backpack. 

“Shut up, Hobie,” you say, already flustered. 

“What? It’s true! If I didn’t know Migs' name before, I sure do now.”

“I’m going to backflip off of this boat.”

GymRat!Miguel who grants Captain Barrett a goodbye, thanking him for letting them use his boat.

“It was a pleasure to host you, Miguel. If you and your girlfriend ever need to, my superyacht is available for any future formal events!” he elbows Miguel with a giant grin, curled mustache moving like it was paid to do so. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, Cap.”

For Miguel, the man with the plan, he would grant Mission A: Eat You Out, a huge success and the start of the summer one to remember.

divider by: @iwonbin 🩵

Part 9.1 here!

a/n: And with that, the yacht chapter is finished! I hope you guys enjoyed it and got your life. 🤭 It was both challenging and rewarding to write this GIANT chapter. I hope that you guys have fun with it like I did! I have no idea how the next chapter OR Miguel's Mission B: Virgin No More plan will go, but!!! Hopefully, it will be pleasant regardless! 🤠

ALSO! I have decided to give this drabble that's basically a fic a proper name (mostly for AO3). Do you all have any suggestions?

As always, like, comment, and reblog. Let me know how you feel! 🩵

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[imsojules]

Before the tide turns

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

tw: typical outerbanks things, alcohol, some drugs, bad fathers, nothing really deep in this one. maybe my crusty writing. english is not my first language!

a/n: Hello there dear reader! So this will be a zombie apocalypse series, but before the sky falls and 💩 hits the fan and everything goes to hell, let’s take a second to appreciate the life about to slip away.

word count: 6.7k

Any feedback is really appreciated! ♥

masterlist | next |

The Outer Banks were never supposed to be home.

You arrived there on a late spring day, with two suitcases and some box of books, your mom’s tired smile, and the hollow echo of a past you hadn’t looked back on in years. She got a nursing job at the local hospital, and you got whatever this was, sunset-drenched streets, salt-kissed air. It didn’t feel like a new beginning. It felt like a pause between endings.

Your dad left when you and your mom when you were just a kid. No note. No goodbye. Just the empty space in your life where his voice used to be. Your mom never cried in front of you. She just worked, and hoped one of the shifts would stitch the wound in your chest back together. You weren’t supposed to stay.

It was supposed to be your last free time before college, something stable and prestigious and far away, the kind of life your mom had clawed her way toward for you. She’d worked every night shift, picked up extra hours, filled out scholarship forms while you slept. She’d planned this.

You were supposed to be planning too. Packing your days with summer reading lists and admissions checklists. Your plan was to help your mom settle in and work during your gap year. Read ahead for university. Then go back to real life. To ambition.

That planning lasted about two weeks.

You found work at The Wreck, the local bar just outside of The Cut—part watering hole, part sanctuary for sunburnt fishermen and troublemakers. The place smelled like stale beer. The locals knew to tip in cash and stories.

It started with Kiara. She came into The Wreck during your first shift—sweaty from the sun, still in her wetsuit, dripping water onto the floor.

“You new?” she asked, hopping up on a barstool and squinting at your name tag.

You nodded. “You’re...very wet.”

“Thanks,” she deadpanned. “Well, yeah. I figured I’d go for the drowned rat look tonight. Really works for the vibe, don’t you think?”

You liked her immediately. After your first shift ended she looked at you “Okay,” she said. “Serious question. What’s your escape plan?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’ve got that ‘I’m just passing through’ vibe,” Kiara said. “So. What’s the plan? College? Bigger city? Secret identity?”

You smiled faintly. “Something like that. My mom got the hospital job here. She wants me starting school the next fall.”

“You want that?”

You paused. “I want her to stop worrying.”

She looked at you for a beat, like she was sizing you up. Then she nodded, arms crossed. “That’s fair.”

The next night, she came back with new people to introduce you to. Pope, John B and Sarah. They ordered fried shrimp, bickered over who owed who gas money this time, and invited you to a bonfire “just to break up the cosmic boredom of existence.”

Then the third night on the job, you met him. JJ Maybank.

He burst through the door like a hurricane in human form with his warm blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a grin so crooked it could knock the breath out of you. Loud, and already talking before he even reached the bar.

“New girl,” he said, like it was a nickname. “Fun fact,” he announced, eyes locked on the rum bottle in your hand. “That’s the same kind Blackbeard drank the night before he buried treasure right off this coast.”

You arched a skeptical brow. “Seriously?”

“Okay,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Maybe not. But c’mon, you don’t move to the Outer Banks and not believe in pirate ghosts and buried treasure. It’s basically a local requirement.”

You fought the grin tugging at your lips. “You’re full of it.”

“Full of charm,” he corrected, tapping the counter with two fingers. “And definitely not full of pirate rum. Yet.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing just a little. “I don’t think I caught your name.” You hesitated for a second, suddenly self-aware, but something about his easy confidence made it feel okay to say it.

“It’s Y/N,” you said, the words feeling a little too small under the weight of his gaze.

He smiled, the grin wide and unrestrained. “I’m JJ.”

—

The first time you sat with all of them outside of work, it wasn’t planned.

You’d just finished your shift at The Wreck when Kie and Sarah waved you over. JJ was already there with his feet up on the table, next to his food, shirt sun-damp and sticking to his back. John B was mid-rant about something to do with boat engines, and Pope was counting coins from the tip jar like it was serious math.

“Sit,” Kie grinned. “We’re initiating you.”

“Into what, exactly?” you asked, arching a brow. JJ leaned back in his chair, looking way too pleased with himself. “The glorious cult of bad decisions and questionable morals.”

“Also known as the Pogues,” Pope clarified.

JJ tossed a fry at him. “You make it sound lame. Watch for the branding dude.”

Sarah looked at you. “If you can handle a Friday night in The Cut, you officially earn local status.”

And just like that, you stayed.

JJ leaned back, balancing precariously on the edge of the picnic table like a raccoon contemplating its life choices. “So new girl… Kiara told me that you have a board. You surf or just own that for the aesthetic?”

“I surf,” you said confidently. “In the same way a cat swims. Reluctantly. With a lot of splashing and some crying.”

He snorted. “So, you’ve nearly drowned in front of hot people. Relatable.”

“Honestly, it builds character. It’s very performance art.”

He pointed a fry at you like it was a mic. “The ocean’s never seen such raw talent.”

“It cried salty tears,” you said. “We bonded.”

He cackled. “Stick with me, new one. I’ll show you how to look cool while making terrible life decisions.”

You raised your cup in a toast. “Can’t wait to disappoint my mom with style.” JJ clinked his beer can against yours. “That’s the spirit.”

Kiara laughed behind you. “She’s one night in and already talking like JJ. This is how it starts.”

“How what starts?” you asked, raising a brow.

Pope looked up from his coin mountain. “Corruption. First it’s sarcasm. Next thing you know, you're trespassing on a golf course at 2 a.m. wearing a traffic cone as a hat.”

Then John B pointed at you. “And you will think it’s a good idea at the time.”

JJ grinned, full of charm. “In my defense, the traffic cone was very flattering.”

“Only because you wore it with no pants,” Pope muttered.

“Art demands sacrifice” JJ said solemnly.

You blinked. “Is this a group of friends or an elaborate cry for help?”

“Yes,” they all answered at once.

You couldn’t help but laugh. JJ leaned in just a little, elbows on knees, gaze too steady for how unserious he looked. “You laugh now, but wait until we make you break into an abandoned lighthouse or something.”

“Oh good,” you said dryly. “I've always wanted tetanus and a criminal record.”

Kie nudged you with her shoulder. “You’ll fit right in.”

JJ pointed at you again. “I like her. She’s got the right ratio.”

“You have a ratio?” you asked.

“Scientific method, babe. You gotta be just scared enough to know it’s dumb, but dumb enough to do it anyway.”

You tilted your head. “And how do you rate?”

He grinned, wide and reckless. “Overqualified.”

“You live at dangerously overqualified.” John B added.

JJ leaned back again, arms spread out along the bench like he was claiming the whole night. “What can I say? I’m a man of many talents.”

You couldn’t stop smiling. These people were chaos. Loud, messy, sunburnt chaos.

Kie handed you the last fry. “You're one of us now. No take-backs.”

You took it, crunching it between your teeth like a solemn oath. “Guess I better start practicing my mug shot face.”

JJ waggled his brows. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a whole portfolio.”

“Of mug shots?” you asked, choking on laughter.

“Of facial expressions. The mug shots are just… bonus content.”

You had the next weekend off. You planned a chill, relaxing Saturday, but when that morning JJ showed up outside your place leaning out the window of the Twinkie—John B’s car—, yelling like a lunatic. “SURF’S UP, BABY!”

You blinked at him, bleary-eyed, clutching your coffee like it was life support. “JJ, it’s 7 a.m.”

“Exactly. Prime wave real estate. Let’s go, Sharkbait.”

After getting ready, you climbed into the van, your board knocking into everything in its path, you found Kiara already in the backseat, stuffing snacks into her bag. Pope sat up front with headphones in, clearly regretting his life choices, and John B was behind the wheel, sunglasses on and hair still damp from a lazy hose down.

The beach was still misty when you pulled up, sunlight breaking through in lazy streaks. JJ jumped out first, hauling his board over his shoulder like he was starring in his own indie surf documentary.

You dragged your board to the sand, staring at the waves like they were out to get you.

“Alright, rookie,” JJ said, spinning his board in the sand with dramatic flair. “Time to see if that board’s just for Instagram.”

John B snorted. “Don’t let him get to you.”

You paddled out with them, nervous, already soaked to your ears. Pope wiped out first, his limbs flailing so violently he looked like he was trying to fly. John B caught a decent wave and immediately shouted, “Did you SEE that?” like he’d just solved world peace. Kiara, naturally, made it look effortless.

Then it was your turn. JJ floated nearby, watching like a lifeguard with a flair for mockery. “Okay, new girl. This is your moment. Make Poseidon proud.”

You paddled. You stood. You flailed. You crashed.

When you surfaced, JJ was cracking up. “Majestic. Ten out of ten. Graceful as a flying possum.”

You flipped him off, laughing, salt water pouring out of your nose. “You’re lucky I don’t launch this board at your smug face.”

But the second time? You stood longer. Rode it almost all the way in. When you fell, you were smiling.

Later, the five of you collapsed on towels and boards, sun drunk and dripping wet, munching chips, JJ tossed you a sweatshirt that smelled like him and sunscreen.

“You’re not bad,” he admitted, nudging your foot with his.

“Careful,” you warned, pulling the hoodie tighter. “That almost sounded like praise.”

He grinned, eyes squinting in the sun. “You’re officially one of us now.”

And as the wind ruffled the beach, you realized something: You’d never belonged anywhere like this before.

The next night you spent with them, they built a bonfire like it was a ritual—driftwood, lighter fluid, and Pope’s very strict “no glass near the fire” rule that everyone immediately ignored.

John B found a busted speaker in the Chateau and hooked it up to his phone with duct tape and a prayer. The sound was terrible, but it didn’t matter.

JJ handed you a drink without asking what you wanted. “I made it for you,” he said proudly. “It’s called the Sunset Surprise.”

You sniffed it. “JJ, this is just rum and SunnyD.”

“Yeah. The surprise is how good it is.”

Later, after some too much of that drink, you ended up tangled in a hammock with Kie and Sarah, passing a bag of marshmallows between you while JJ and John B tried to one-up each other on who had the worst sunburn.

“Remember when you said you weren’t staying?” Kie whispered to you, grinning.

“I’m still not.” you said.

You’d never actually been inside the Chateau before, just heard the legends. Mismatched furniture, questionable wiring, and a general aura of lived in disaster. So when JJ waved you in that evening like you’d been coming over for years, you stepped through the door and into the eye of the hurricane.

Somehow, one visit turned into a dozen. Before you even noticed, the Chateau became your second home, blaring music, sandy floors, and all.

The first night you crashed there, you fell asleep on the lumpy couch with a scratchy blanket and JJ snoring on the other side of the room. You woke up to the unmistakable smell of something burning. And your skull pulsing like a tiny, furious drummer had moved in behind your eyes.

The couch beneath you creaked as you shifted, your cheek peeling off the sticky cushion fabric. Someone had draped a beach towel over you like a blanket. Your mouth tasted like JJ’s surprise drink and regret.

Groaning, you sat up, and immediately regretted it.

Your surroundings came into focus slowly: Pope curled up on the floor using a backpack as a pillow, Kie sprawled upside down in the battered armchair, and John B, shirtless, lying half off his hammock like he’d lost a battle with gravity sometime in the night.

The Chateau was chaos and comfort all at once, half sunk in sand and too bright for your aching eyes.

JJ walked in from the kitchen, flipping something on the stove, grinning when he caught you squinting at him like the morning lightness had declared war on your eyeballs.

“Well, well, well,” he drawled, barefoot and smug. “Sleeping Beauty lives.”

You glared. “Why are you yelling?”

He snorted and walked over, pressing a bottle of water into your hands, then some painkillers into your palm like he’d done it a dozen times before.

“My gut instincts told me to keep you alive,” he said, crouching in front of you. “Also, you puked off the back porch and yelled at a mailbox.”

Your groan turned into a muffled scream behind the towel. “Please stop.” Your face burned hotter than the morning sun. “I’m never drinking again.”

“Lies,” Pope muttered from the floor.

JJ reached out, brushing a piece of sand-dusted hair from your forehead with extreme gentleness. “You good?”

The joke fell from his face then, just for a second. His blue eyes searched yours like he wasn’t asking about the hangover at all. Like he was asking if you felt okay here—with them. With him.

You nodded, throat thick. “Yeah. Weirdly good.”

“You can crash here whenever,” he said, standing and tossing you a granola bar. “Just… maybe aim away from the porch next time.”

You threw the granola bar at his head. He ducked and laughed, already turning back toward the stove, like this was just normal now—you waking up here, part of the mess.

Part of them.

After that, you liked to spend almost all of your free time at that house. One of your day off you were next to JJ who was sitting on the porch railing with a damp t-shirt slung over his shoulder, a laundry basket at his feet and his hair still wet from a surf. You were sitting on the steps, sorting socks with a kind of focused frustration that made him smirk every time you muttered about losing pairs to the “sock void.”

“You know,” JJ said, nudging your foot with his. “You don’t have to color code them.”

“It’s not color-coding,” you muttered. “It’s... sock logic.”

He snorted. “You sound like Pope.”

“Hey!”

He leaned down, plucked a sock from the pile, and tossed it behind him like a basketball. “Boom. Freedom.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“You’re in denial.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. The late afternoon sun dipped behind the trees, throwing shadows across the porch. Somewhere inside, John B was yelling at the TV about a busted DVD player, and Kiara was digging through the fridge for snacks she swore she didn’t bring.

JJ glanced down at you, softer now.

“You didn’t have to come by, you know.”

You shrugged. “You texted me you were doing laundry. I assumed you needed supervision.”

“Fair.”

A beat passed. The kind of quiet that was only awkward if you didn’t want it to mean something.

He looked at you again. Really looked. “You always do that.”

You glanced up. “Do what?”

“Show up.”

The words settled between you like something heavier than air. You didn’t answer right away just looked at him, really looked back. At the bruise fading along his ribs. At the way his hands never stayed still. At the hope that flickered behind all the sarcasm when he looked your way.

“I like being here,” you said finally.

He didn’t say anything at first, just nodded. Then, quieter: “Yeah. Me too.”

He sat beside you, knees bumping, arms brushing — both of you pretending it didn’t matter. Both of you wishing the moment would stretch just a little longer.

That same night was technically a “movie night,” but John B had passed out on the couch, Pope never showed, and JJ had offered you the spare mattress in the back like it wasn’t a big deal. The storm had rolled in just after sunset.

You were half asleep when you heard the shouting.

Not JJ.

His dad. You knew damn well he was abusive. Kiara told you about him when you two walked together home after work. You’d seen JJ’s  bruises. The ones on his ribs, the ones on his back. The ones he tried to cover up, the ones he didn’t talk about. You knew what his dad was capable of. The way the older man’s anger could tear JJ down, piece by piece. You sat up fast. The mattress was thin and cold, your phone lighting up with a single message: “Stay in the room. Please.”

You didn’t.

By the time you made it down the hall, JJ was in the kitchen, blocking the door with his body. His dad stood outside, soaked from the rain, reeking of whiskey and rage.

“Don’t be a little bitch, JJ,” he slurred. “Let me the hell in—”

“You’re not doing this again.” JJ snapped, voice low but tight, like he was holding everything together by one breath. “You think you’re some tough guy now?” his dad named Luke, if you are remember correctly, snarled, leaning harder against the door. “Living in your little clubhouse like a man? You’re still just some screw-up kid who needs his—”

“Go home,” JJ said, and it wasn’t loud, but it cut. You saw his hands shaking.

The door slammed shut a second later, just narrowly missing JJ’s fingers. He stood there, chest heaving, head bowed like it physically hurt to stay upright.

“JJ...” you said softly.

He didn’t look at you. Just braced his hands on the kitchen counter, knuckles white.

You reached out gently, fingers brushing his arm. “Can I—?”

He nodded once.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind. Slowly. Carefully. His back was warm, tense as steel cable, but when you pressed your cheek to his shoulder, you felt him exhale. His head dropped forward, curls wet from rain or sweat or maybe both.

“I hate him,” JJ whispered. “I hate that I still care what he says. I hate that I can’t stop him from getting in my head.”

You didn’t speak. Just held tighter.

“Hey,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to make him face you. His eyes were red-rimmed, jaw clenched, but he didn’t pull away “Whatever he is, you’re the opposite.” JJ’s eyes searched yours, as if he wanted to believe it but didn’t know how. You reached up and touched his face—fingertips soft at his jaw. “He doesn’t get to define you. Not now. Not ever.” JJ leaned into you like he was starved for warmth.

On a sweltering July afternoon, the heat clung to your skin, hot sand burning beneath your toes, the sky above a washed-out blue with the promise of stars to come. The Pogues had built a bonfire near the dunes—Kiara brought a Bluetooth speaker, John B smuggled snacks, Pope came late, and JJ was already tipsy when you arrived. You found him sitting on a log, poking the fire with a stick like it owed him money.

“Late,” he said without looking at you.

You smirked. “You missed me.”

He glanced up. “Always.”

You settled beside him. The fire crackled. The ocean whispered behind you. For a moment, it felt like the whole island had stopped spinning.

And then, voices. Loud, slurred, Kook voices.

You turned.

Rafe Cameron, in all his smug, sunburned glory, was striding toward the fire like he owned the shoreline. Two of his cronies followed behind him grinning, emboldened. He wasn’t drunk. He was worse. He was in one of those moods. You’d seen this dance before. Kooks with their collars popped and pockets lined, swaggering into places like they were doing everyone a favor. And Pogues? Tended bars, cleaned up their messes, swallowed insults with clenched jaws because rent didn’t pay itself.

At The Wreck, it was always the same story: Kooks sitting too close, speaking too loud, tipping too little. Entitled. The kind of people who looked at you like you were wallpaper just there to blend into the background unless they needed something.

“Well, well,” Rafe said, raising a beer. “Look who’s slumming it with the pogues tonight.”

You stood, not even sure why. Maybe just on instinct. JJ stood too. You felt the heat of him at your back.

Rafe’s eyes slid to you, then back to JJ.

“She your latest stray, Maybank?”

JJ didn’t flinch. “You lost?”

“Just enjoying the public beach.” Rafe said, smiling like a shark.

Kie was beside you, arms crossed tight. “Rafe, no one wants you here.”

“Relax,” he said, but his eyes were still on you. “She doesn’t look like she minds. You from out of town, sweetheart? Didn’t think they let tourists run with the trash.”

You didn’t even have time to blink before JJ moved.

It wasn’t a swing—not yet. Just a step forward. Fast and controlled. His jaw was clenched, fists at his sides, not raised but the intent was there.

“Back off.” JJ said, voice low.

Rafe laughed, but it wasn’t amused. “Didn’t know you got a guard dog.”

“Keep talking,” JJ said, “see how fast I make you eat sand.”

For a second, no one moved. The fire popped.

Then Pope was there, wedging himself between them. “Walk away, JJ.”

“Not until he does,” JJ hissed.

Rafe raised both hands in mock surrender and started to backpedal “Have fun, scumbags.”

When he was gone, JJ finally exhaled like he’d been holding his breath since the second Rafe showed up. He didn’t look at you right away.

“Jay...” you started.

You didn’t know what to say, so you just stepped a little closer. Close enough to feel the heat coming off of him part firelight, part JJ.

He noticed. But he didn’t move away.

—

There was a kind of rhythm to it, the way you danced around each other without ever touching the center. Like magnets flipping polar at the last second, always close enough to feel the pull, never close enough to give in.

Sarah caught on first.

She cornered you at the surf shop while you were stocking shelves. “So, you and JJ…”

“There’s no me and JJ,” you said too quickly.

Sarah raised a perfectly shaped brow. “That’s cute. He talks about you like you hung the stars or something. Like, annoying, but cute.”

Kiara joined in later, handing you a beer and casually asking, “So when are you going to admit you’re in love with him?”

You choked. “I’m not—he hasn’t—nothing’s happening.”

She just smirked. “Yeah, yeah okay.”

JJ was always there. Leaning on the bar when your shift ended, talking too loud, laughing too easily. He stole fries from your plate and let you steal sips from his beer. He called you “trouble” with a smirk like he was begging for you to prove him right.

And you were just as bad.

You found reasons to text him at 2 a.m., knowing he’d answer. Laughed a little louder at his dumbest jokes. Let your knees bump his on the couch and never moved away. You wore his hoodie home once and claimed it was accidental. He never asked for it back.

Your mom washed it, folded it neatly, and said nothing. Just gave you a look. The kind that said: I know exactly what this is, and we are not talking about it right now.

She liked JJ. Not that she’d admit it first. But you saw the way her expression softened when he called her “ma’am,” or offered to carry groceries, or he said to her “You made your daughter this cool alone? That should be illegal.” He tried to be a perfect gentleman around her, straightened posture, yes ma’ams, even opened the car door once. He even complimented her pasta like it was five-star cuisine.

She liked him. But she didn’t trust that she liked him.

“He’s got manners,” she said once, setting a pot on the stove. “But so do cult leaders.”

Still, she’d slide him an extra helping at dinner without blinking. Pack leftovers “just in case your friend’s hungry.” She saw the good in him. Just didn’t want you rearranging your whole future around it.

Some nights, when the wind rattled your windows and the ocean howled in the distance, you lay awake wondering how close was too close. How long until one of you cracked.

You caught him looking sometimes. Not in that passing way guys look at girls. Not like a glance. Like he was memorizing you.

Like he was trying to figure out if this whatever this was, could be real.

And he caught you, too. Watching him light a joint, shirtless in the Chateau’s golden hour glow. Watching the way his jaw flexed when he was thinking too hard. Watching him watch you.

You talked about everything. The kind of stuff most people never dared to say out loud. Bad dads. Broken systems. How life sometimes felt like a house of cards, like one gust and it’d all go down.

But you never talked about the way your heart beat faster when his hand brushed yours. Or how he always pulled you in closer than necessary during movie nights. Or the way you always waited for him to say something first.

And then, one night, he finally did.

You’d been watching some old movie John B had lying around at the Chateau. Midway through a scene involving an axe, a fog machine, and the world’s worst scream queen, JJ shifted. Without warning, he dropped his head into your lap, exhaling sharply like gravity had just won. You paused, looking down, half-expecting him to make some smartass comment.

Instead, he blinked up at you, eyes glassy but honest in that way drunk people sometimes get like all their edges had gone soft.

“You know I like you a lot, right?”

The words hit like a pebble through a window. Quiet, sharp, and irreversible.

You froze, heart stalling mid-beat. “JJ… you’re drunk.”

He blinked again. “Yeah I am.  And I’m also getting fall in love with you.”

No smirk. No wink. Just soft certainty, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You didn’t know what to do with it, so you did what you could. You gently untangled yourself, stood up ignoring the way he pouted, and fetched a glass of water, and two painkillers. When you came back, he was still on the couch, now sprawled dramatically like a fallen prince.

“Drink this please,” you said, nudging the glass into his hand.

He obeyed, eyes not leaving yours.

Then you helped him up—he leaned heavier than he needed to, one arm slung lazily over your shoulder—and guided him to the bedroom, muttering sleepy nonsense the whole way. You pulled the covers up to his chest, smoothed his hair back, and before you could think too hard, kissed his forehead.

He was out cold two minutes later.

The next morning, you found him on the porch one hand shielding his eyes like the sun had personally wronged him. John B was beside him, sipping coffee and looking far too chipper for someone who lived off instant ramen.

“She probably thinks I was just wasted,” JJ muttered, voice rough, temple cradled in his palm. “I fucked up.”

He didn’t see you at first. You stood there in the doorway for a beat, watching him squint into the daylight like it held answers. The words had come out messy, sure. But the truth in them hadn’t felt drunk.

You didn’t hesitate after that. You stepped outside, the screen door creaking just enough to give you away. JJ flinched like he’d been caught doing something illegal. John B glanced between the two of you, instantly clocked the energy, and bless him, he quickly stood up.

“I’m gonna go… check on the water heater,” he mumbled, already backing away even though the Chateau hadn’t had hot water in weeks.

JJ didn’t look at you right away. He scrubbed a hand over his face, wincing at the effort. “So… about last night,” he said, voice rough like gravel. “Just for the record, I was absolutely trashed.”

“I noticed.”

He laughed once—short, nervous. “Cool. So we can just pretend I was talking to a tree or, like, a large bird and keep this friendship alive.”

You sat beside him on the step, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin.

“Thing is,” you said, “you were drunk. But you weren’t lying.”

JJ finally turned to look at you, blue eyes bloodshot and uncertain. He looked like a boy halfway between wanting to run and wanting to believe he hadn’t ruined everything.

“And that’s the problem?” he asked, voice quieter now.

You shook your head slowly. “No. That’s the part that makes it easy.”

His brows furrowed. “Wait… are we still using metaphors or?”

You kissed him.

It was gentle, cautious like you were both trying to memorize something fragile. He froze for a split second, then kissed you back, sun-warm hands coming up to cradle your jaw like he couldn’t believe you were real.

When you finally pulled away, he looked dazed, but smiling.

“I knew you liked me,” he whispered.

“You said you are in love with me,” you reminded him.

JJ leaned back a little, grinning now, like gravity couldn’t touch him. “Yeah, well. I was also drunk. I’m sober now, and I still do. So… just putting that out there.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re such a menace.”

“And you’re doomed,” he said brightly. “You kissed me. That’s a lifetime contract.”

Later that afternoon, the rest of the Pogues trickled in like seagulls smelling fries. You and JJ were still on the porch, now tangled up on the hammock, his legs practically hanging off one side, your head on his shoulder, the laziest smiles on both your faces.

Kiara stepped out first, paused mid-step, and blinked. “Okay…what the hell is this?” she asked, already pulling out her phone like she was documenting a cryptid sighting.

You squinted at her through the hammock netting. “Do I at least look cute?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Kie muttered, snapping a photo. “Ugh, finally. I'm putting this on the Pogue group chat.”

JJ grinned, not even bothering to move. “This, my friend, is a rare sighting. Handle with care.” 

 “Since when?” Pope asked, squinting like he was trying to solve a crime scene.

JJ stretched, yawned dramatically. “Since always. You guys just have no observational skills.” John B emerged from the kitchen with a bag of chips and the look of someone extremely over it. “He confessed last night while slurring into her lap. It was kinda romantic tho.”

Pope looked at you with raised eyebrows. You responded to the question he never actually said. “I made peace with my fate.”

“You’re a brave one.” Pope said.

Kiara groaned, flopping onto the porch swing. “This is gonna be great.”

“You love it,” JJ said, throwing a chip at her. “You all do. Admit it.”

John B sighed. “Can we at least make a rule that if you two start making out, we get a five-minute warning to evacuate?”

“No promises,” JJ said, slinging an arm around you. “We’re spontaneous like that.” And then he pulled you into a warm hug, his breath brushing your ear as he whispered, “So… when do I get to see you again?”

You grinned, pretending to think. “Hmm, let me check my very full and important schedule...”

“Oh no,” he whispered dramatically. “Am I being penciled in?”

“Lucky for you,” you said, pulling back just enough to look at him, “next Friday’s wide open.”

He lit up. “Next Friday it is.”

On your first “real” date JJ didn’t tell you where you were going. He just showed up in front of your and your mom’s place at golden hour, wearing that cocky grin that made your heart do gymnastics.

"Is that... cologne?" you asked, sniffing the air.

"It’s scented confidence," he said, revving the boat engine dramatically.

You blinked. "We’re going on a boat ride?"

“Hell yeah.” he confirmed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Very poetic. Very Nicholas Sparks.”

You hopped in, grinning. “Is this what romance looks like in The Cut?”

“Buckle up, baby. We’re about possibly violate some maritime law.”

The boat was old, and a little squeaky every time JJ shifted gears but it glided like freedom. The water sparkled as the sun dipped lower, turning the sky into melted orange sherbet.

“You pull this move with all your dates?” you asked, legs dangling over the side of the boat.

JJ glanced over with a grin. “Only the ones I actually want to impress.”

“Lucky me.”

“Extremely,” he said, kicking at the water with the heel of his boot. “Most girls freak out when I joke about being stranded at sea.”

You gave him a look.

He shrugged, way too relaxed. “Guess we’ll find out when the gas light comes on.”

“JJ.”

“Kidding.” He leaned closer, voice low. “Probably.”

Eventually, he anchored near a quiet inlet. The boat rocked gently beneath you as JJ pulled out a slightly crumpled brown bag. Inside? Two sandwiches, a bottle of coke, and a pack of twizzlers.

“It’s giving gourmet” you said.

“I forgot the forks for our gourmet feast,” he replied solemnly. “but I have a surprise.”

He reached into the boat’s cooler and pulled out a single sparkler, the kind you get on the Fourth of July.

“This was supposed to be for later,” he said, lighting it with a victorious flick of a lighter. “But I’m impatient.”

You watched the sparkler fizzle between you, lighting his face in bursts of starlight. He looked so soft and full of mischief.

“I think this counts as the weirdest first date I’ve ever been on,” you said.

“But like... in a good way?” he asked, leaning a little closer.

You smiled. “In the best way.”

And when he kissed you tasting like coke and sunshine and it felt less like a beginning and more like a promise you’d already been living.

—

Exactly one year later after he kissed you on that boat, you fumbled with your new home’s keys, the metal biting into your palm like it could sense your nerves. With a sigh, you dropped them onto the counter, letting the sound of their clink echo.

Your mom’s voice echoed in the back of your mind. She’d given you a deadline, keep planning your future, stick to your academic goals, and she’d be more than happy to help you and JJ out with the rent. But she didn’t exactly approve of your life choices. But your mom, in her own strict way, always tried to take care of you, even if it didn’t always feel that way.

Her disapproval had hung heavy in the air when you’d told her. But she’d softened when you promised you’d keep pursuing your university plan, her way of showing she still cared, still expected something from you. So, you did. You planned, you organized. You tried to keep your life from spiraling in the chaos.

The new place was nothing special, just a two bedroom above an old dive shop in Kill Devil Hills with creaky floors, sea stained windows, and ceilings the color of forgotten cigarettes. You and JJ had only moved in a few days ago, but it already smelled like him. Sand, sunscreen, weed, and whatever cheap body wash he swore by.

You lay sprawled out on the floor in the living room, your head tilted just enough to brush against JJ’s. The only furniture in the room was a secondhand couch you hadn’t bothered to unwrap yet and a floor lamp that leaned like it was half-drunk. Sunlight leaked through warped blinds, casting stripes across the wooden floor. Dust hung in the air like pollen.

You sneezed for the third time.

JJ snorted out a laugh. “You allergic to happiness or just our janky-ass apartment?”

You groaned and wiped your nose with your sleeve. “I told you I should’ve dusted yesterday.”

JJ rolled onto his side, propping himself up on an elbow. “I got it. I’ll do it now.”

“No,” you said, grabbing his arm and dragging him back down beside you. “You need a break. You carried all of the boxes up those stairs.”

He made a dramatic groaning noise. “They weighed a million pounds. I broke a sweat.”

“Drama queen.”

He grinned. That lopsided, JJ special smug and inexplicably soft.

You linked your fingers through his. He didn’t hesitate. His hand was warm and always a little rough, like he’d been living three lives at once. He brushed your thumb with his. Then, out of nowhere, he said:

“I’m so happy.”

You blinked at him, surprised. JJ wasn’t shy, but he didn’t usually say things like that, not without a joke stitched to the end. This wasn’t one of those moments. His voice was clear, steady. Like he needed you to hear it.

“I am too,” you murmured, tightening your grip. “I didn’t think I could feel like this again.”

JJ didn’t answer at first. He was looking at you like he’d never seen you before. Like you were some rare artifact dug out of the sand, something he was scared to touch too hard in case it disappeared.

“What?” you asked, voice hushed.

He raised a hand to your cheek, fingertips featherlight. The pads of his fingers traced the shape of you, reverent. His touch wasn’t demanding, just curious.

Then he smiled. “I don’t get how I got this lucky.”

You kissed him. It was a very sweet quick and warm and close mouthed. Then you whispered, “I’m happier.”

His eyes narrowed in mock offense. “Liar.”

“Swear it.”

“No way. I’m like… glowing. I’m radiating happiness. You’re catching my happy.”

The afternoon sun dipped lower, washing the apartment in a warm orange haze. It hit JJ’s hair just right, turning it to gold. He looked like summer as a person.

“I’m still happier” you teased.

He rolled over until he was half on top of you, chest pressing into yours. “Then prove it.”

“How?”

“Let me hold you for like, ever.”

You grinned. “JJ…”

But you let him pull you in, let him stretch himself across you like a blanket, tucking his face into your neck. His weight grounded you. His arms were secure, gentle but insistent. He always held you like he was afraid the universe might snatch you away.

“You good?” you asked softly, hand stroking through his hair.

“I am now,” he mumbled. “Just… don’t move yet.”

You didn’t. Not even when your back started to ache or your nose twitched from dust.

The world outside didn’t feel real that night. Just you and JJ, your hearts beating in the same rhythm, in a home that smelled like freedom.

A home that wouldn't last forever.

But neither of you were thinking about that yet.

[sammylkcho]

Mayhaps Sebastian saving us from something just outside his shop? Pretty pls?

Here you go! Sorry for the delay, and I hope you like the result, dear anon.

Warnings/Notes: slight descriptions of wounds, some blood mentioned but nothing major, unedited

"I'll go grab some blankets and cushions then, I won't take too long!" You informed Sebastian, gripping the canvas bag hanging from your shoulder. You planned on stuffing everything you could find inside it so you wouldn't have to carry things in your hands or deal with any extra worries when you returned.

Sebastian responded with a soft hum, his eyes still fixed on some classified documents. He had been busy reviewing, flipping through, and sorting various papers. Maybe he’d made some progress, or maybe not—you didn't really know since he wasn't telling you. So stubborn.

"Be careful out there. The anglers are a bit more aggressive lately. Some expendables managed to evade them, and it seems to have pissed them off. Big surprise…" He muttered the last part with a tone full of sarcasm, like the anglers were acting like spoiled kids who didn't get the toy they wanted. Hearing that gave you a slight shock and sent a chill down your spine, but you hid it with a soft hum.

Showing fear or the slightest tremor in this place could get you killed.

Every day outside the four walls of Sebastian's shop was a vals with death, never knowing what danger could be lurking around the corner. The only threat you'd managed to neutralize, thanks to Sebastian, was Painter's turrets. After Sebastian talked to him and explained the situation, the AI had mocked you but grudgingly agreed not to try and kill you anymore. Right before you were about to leave, however, the AI had apologized, explaining the reasons Sebastian had already mentioned.

You parted on good terms. You considered him a friend, though to him, you were just an acquaintance… It was progress.

"Well, don't miss me too much!" You waved goodbye, ducking to exit through the vent.

Once you crawled out, you looked both ways, like you were crossing the street, making sure no cars—or rather, no Pinkie or Pandemoniun—were coming your way.

Hearing nothing, you stood up and headed a few rooms over, careful not to stray too far.

When you came back, you had a blanket and three cushions you'd grabbed from one of the couches in one of the rooms.

You had to hide a few times, crouching into corners when you couldn't find a locker to duck into, praying to any god that you were in an angler's blind spot.

Now, you were on your way back to Sebastian's shop, looking forward to some warmth and safety in that little secure place. All you wanted was to curl up in the things you'd gathered, your body and mind exhausted.

Just as you were about to duck into the vent again, a sudden, sharp yank and the piercing bite that followed knocked the wind out of you, the attack violent and unexpected.

A high-pitched scream escaped your throat as the sensation of thousands of needles tearing into your skin like you were nothing more than food shredded through you. You could feel your blood spilling, staining both your wetsuit and neck crimson. The pain was unbearable, and the awkward angle your neck was pulled into made it hurt even more.

Your strength was fading, and your vision was speckled with black dots that refused to disappear no matter how much you blinked. The agony consumed you, and the urge to close your eyes wasn't helping.

You heard a faint noise coming from the walls (or above?), like something sliding quickly, but you couldn’t focus on it through the wave of pain as the wall dweller yanked and bit into your flesh.

The sound of one gunshot, then another, sent chills down your spine.

The wall dweller dropped to the ground, and its grip on you vanished, causing you to collapse from the loss of strength.

You braced for the cold, hard floor, but instead, two pairs of arms—plus one extra—caught you firmly, preventing you from injuring yourself further.

You glanced up and recognized Sebastian's clothes. You tried to smile to show your gratitude, but all you could manage was a weak grimace.

"You're lucky I've got a extra medkit. I won't charge you for it this time. Just be more careful next time, idiot." You could hear a slight hint of concern in his voice, along with that familiar frown he always made when you were possibly to blame for something.

He cradled you in his arms, and you didn't protest. You didn't feel like moving and could feel yourself about to pass out any second from the blood loss you were dealing with right now.

You closed your eyes for a moment, and when you opened them again, you were already inside the shop. How? You didn't know, and you didn't feel like overthinking it right now. Instead, you noticed how Sebastian's movements with his third arm were a mix of hurried and precise, like he didn't want to make a mistake with what he was doing.

You hissed as he began cleaning the open wound, wrapping a gauze around your shoulder and applying pressure to stop more blood from spilling.

You didn't pay attention to what he did next because of the discomfort and the awful itch spreading through the wound. It hurt, itched—you didn't even want to move your injured shoulder in case it opened up again or got worse.

Even after Sebastian finished, he didn't let go or lower you from his arms. He just stayed there with you, for who knows how long. Just you and him.

And you'd thank him later, verbally, for everything he’d done to help.

[orangeccreamsicles]

dirks will show up to a party and go "is anyone going to stare at their phone the whole time" and not wait for an answer

BEACH BBQ FIT !!!!!!!!! did this in like two minutes LMAO

now i havent added this alter to the alter post yet but akwete has fully fronted for this party, masking as dave, of course. they're enjoying the sun and eating plenty and throwing cans in the air for hal to catch and crunch with his stupid hydraulic pressass teeth. fun times all around ☆

[black-and-yellow]

Do Hizashi and Nemuri ever show Shouta their cave? What does the cave look like, I'm so curious now

After weeks of peer pressure, he finally gives in and invests in a wetsuit and diving gear.

The mouth of their cave is fully underwater and is the only entrance. It has an area inside just about big enough to swim a few laps in, but if you go through a gap at the back and go upwards, you come to this air pocket that has some rocky ground. This is where Nem and Hizashi store their treasures, and where Nemuri sleeps a lot of the time (underwater, she has to keep moving to be able to pushing water over her gills, but on land she can use her secondary, human-type lungs to breathe, so she can relax).

Hizashi is like a kid showing his friend his room when Aizawa visits. He's very houseproud. It was his place initially, and Nemuri moved in when they got together. They've put a lot of work into making it homely. There's lots of decorations and stalactites and stalagmites inside and little shiny things that glint in the light that comes in through the tiny opening at the top that lets the air through.

There's another little shallow pool of water at the back of the cave where they can curl up and sleep without drying out.

[pucksandpower]

Oooh the grid kids series is pure joy! I think it's really cool idea, especially because the drivers spend so much time around one another. Can i request one where maybe back in the day, rbr!seb and y/n were the grid kids of like mark and michael and jenson and back to present times, seb's grid kids are weirded out to see jenson and mark treat seb and y/n as their grid kids please. If that makes sense

Grid Kids: Gentlemen, a Short View Back to the Past

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: once upon a time, the grid parents were grid kids themselves

Series Masterlist

When We Were Young

“Oi lovebirds! Stop canoodling in the garage, will ya?” Mark Webber chuckles, teasingly nudging Sebastian as you blush, having been caught stealing a quick kiss with your boyfriend in the middle of the chaotic paddock.

Michael, ever the protective figure, chimes in, “Leave them alone, Mark. It’s sweet. Remember when we were young and in love?” He winks at Sebastian, who grins, clearly relishing in having backup.

Jenson, leaning against a tire stack, chuckles, “Speak for yourself. Some of us still have it.” He sends you a playful wink and you laugh.

Sebastian wraps an arm around you, “Honestly, with the three of you as mentors, I’m surprised I’ve learned anything about racing.”

You smirk, “Maybe they're preparing you for the important race — the race of life?”

Mark snorts, “Deep, Y/N. Very deep.”

Michael smiles, a nostalgic look in his eyes, “You know, Y/N, you remind me a lot of my wife back in the day. Always grounding us racers, making sure our heads don’t get too big.”

Jenson nods in agreement, “True that. You have a way of making sure Seb here doesn’t drift into the clouds.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, “Oh come on! You guys are just trying to get on Y/N’s good side because she’s the only one who brings proper coffee to the track.”

You giggle, “Guilty as charged. Can’t have my grid parents falling asleep at the wheel now, can I?”

Rain, Rain, Go Away

Sebastian and you stand with Jenson and Mark, sheltering under an awning as rain pours down, delaying the race. Michael ambles over, shaking off his umbrella.

Sebastian grins, “Typical Spa weather, huh?”

Jenson chuckles, “Isn’t it just? Every year I hope for sun by some miracle and every year...” He gestures at the rain dramatically.

You sigh, “I packed for a summer trip. Look at this!” You motion to your very damp sundress.

Mark smirks, “Rookie mistake. Always pack a wetsuit for Spa.”

Michael nods sagely, “And flippers.”

Oh Simple Thing

The smell of grilled meat wafts through the air as Jenson mans the BBQ at his home. You and Sebastian arrive, bringing along a homemade salad and plenty of sides.

“Ah, the dynamic duo!” Mark greets, pulling you into a friendly hug.

Michael points to the salad, “Trust Y/N to ensure we get our greens. Good on you!”

You wink, “Can’t have you all living on steaks and grilled chicken alone.”

As the evening progresses, stories from their early racing days are exchanged, often leading to fits of laughter. At one point, Mark shares an embarrassing story about Sebastian’s rookie mistake during a test session.

Sebastian groans, burying his face in his hands, “Do we have to bring that up again?”

You pat his back sympathetically, “It’s alright, Seb. Everyone has their moments.”

Jenson, taking a sip of his drink, adds, “That’s true. Just remember, no matter how many times they tease you, you’ve got Y/N in your corner. And that’s worth more than anything.”

Prank or Be Pranked

“Seb! Did you move my helmet?” Jenson calls out, rummaging through his locker as the five of you prepare to go karting, his face a picture of confusion.

Sebastian, feigning innocence, replies, “Why would I do that?”

You, smirking, lean in and whisper to Mark, “Five bucks says he put it on the highest shelf.”

Mark grins, “You’re on.”

As Jenson continues his search, he eventually finds his helmet perched high up, just out of reach. Michael, catching on to the prank, laughs, “Looks like our young prodigy here has learned a few tricks.”

Sebastian shrugs, “Consider it ... training. For reflexes and stuff.”

Jenson, using the handle of a dusty broom to retrieve his helmet, retorts, “Wait till you find out what I’ve done with your boots.”

Sebastian’s eyes widen in horror, “You didn’t!”

“This is going to be a long season.” You lean back against the brick wall as the overgrown children in front of you continue to bicker, fighting a smile.

Thanks for the Memories

Jenson, lounging comfortably in the hospitality area, raises an eyebrow as he watches you try to subtly wipe some oil off Sebastian's face. “You sure you’ve got him all cleaned up for the camera?”

You laugh, looking at a sheepish Sebastian who had been poking around his car earlier. “It’s like looking after a kid sometimes. He’s always getting into something.”

Michael chuckles from across the room, “Ah, young love. Sebastian, she’s got your number. But honestly, Y/N, good on you. We older ones have been trying to teach him some discipline.”

Mark smirks. “To be fair, Michael, I recall a certain someone ending up in a pool with his clothes on in Monaco just last year.”

Michael grins mischievously, “That was different. And anyway, Seb, Y/N, don’t get any ideas.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Trust me, if he ends up in the water, I won’t be the one pushing him.”

Sebastian wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. “But you’d jump in to save me, right?”

You pretend to ponder, “Hmm, depends on how cold the water is.”

Jenson laughs, “Sebastian, you’ve found your match. But seriously, both of you, cherish these moments. The grid, the races, it’s all fleeting. But the relationships, the memories, they last.”

Michael nods in agreement, “Jenson’s right. One day you’ll be the veterans, guiding the young ones. Remember these days, learn from them.”

Mark clinks his water bottle to yours, “To memories and the journey ahead.”

Flintstones, Meet the Flintstones

Michael leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips, “You know, when I started in F1 we didn’t have all this fancy tech and simulations. We relied on instinct.”

Jenson, faking shock, retorts, “Wait, you mean they didn’t have cars back then?”

Sebastian chuckles, glancing at you, “I bet he drove a dinosaur to the track.”

You laugh, “A very fast dinosaur, mind you.”

Mark, trying to keep a straight face, adds, “Michael, be honest. Was your racing suit made of ... loincloth?"

Michael plays along, “Yes and our helmets were carved out of stone.”

You chime in, “I heard they used saber-toothed tigers as pit crews.”

Jenson nods, “Oh, absolutely. And the pit stops? Ten minutes. Had to give the tigers a break.”

Michael rolls his eyes, laughing, “Alright, alright, mock the legend if you must. But remember, young ones, we paved the way.”

Mark grins, “And we’re grateful, old man. But don’t forget, it’s their turn now.”

Sebastian, ever competitive, challenges, “Race you to the track?”

Michael raises an eyebrow, “You sure about that?”

You laugh, “Careful, Seb. He might just bring out his dinosaur.”

Passing the Torch

Michael stands, his presence commanding the room’s attention even without a word spoken. Holding a helmet delicately in his hands, he clears his throat. “In every racer’s life, there comes a time when the tracks call to you a little less, the roar becomes a distant echo, and you realize there’s a world waiting for you outside the paddock.”

He glances over at Sebastian, then to you, emotion shimmering in his eyes. “But before I step into that world, I wanted to leave behind something, a token of gratitude and hope.”

Sebastian’s brow furrows slightly, curiosity evident. “Michael, you’ve already given so much to all of us …”

Michael interrupts with a soft chuckle, “Seb, always impatient! Let me finish.”

He then looks at you, his gaze warm and fatherly, “Y/N, you may not race on the track, but you’ve raced in all our hearts, guiding, supporting, laughing, and cheering louder than everyone else.”

“Sebastian, Y/N,” Michael continues, his voice imbued with emotion, “This helmet, from my last race, isn’t just a piece of equipment. It’s a symbol. A legacy.”

Gently placing the helmet on the table, he pushes it towards the two of you. “It’s about the weight of responsibility, the dreams it carries, the hopes it’s seen, and the love it’s felt.”

The room is silent, the magnitude of the gesture palpable.

Sebastian, clearly moved, speaks up, voice choked with emotion, “Michael, this ... this is ... I’m not sure if we can ever fill the space you leave behind.”

Michael smiles, placing a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder, then moving to hug you tightly. “That’s the thing about spaces. They evolve. They change. You two won’t fill my space. You’ll create your own.”

Pulling away, he raises his glass, “To new beginnings, to timeless legacies, and to family. Always to family.”

Back to the Future

As Max saunters into the room, he stops short, eyebrows raised in surprise. Jenson is teasing Sebastian, ruffling his hair like he’s a teenager, while Mark playfully nudges Y/N’s arm, offering her a drink.

Max blinks a few times, trying to process the scene. “Is ... is Jenson giving Seb a noogie?”

George peers over from his conversation with Lando, both their eyes widening. “It looks like it ... and Y/N’s being drawn into some sort of mock arm wrestling with Mark. What alternate reality did we walk into?”

Charles, mouth agape, chuckles, “It’s like watching a nature documentary: Here we observe the older generation asserting their playful dominance over the younger one.”

Lando giggles, nudging George. “Mate, should we jump in? Even the odds a bit?”

Before George can answer, Mick, who’s been observing silently, leans in. “Guys, it’s kind of sweet. You remember the stories they've told about the old days? This is just ... history repeating itself.”

Max, still trying to wrap his head around the scene, shakes his head with a laugh. “Never thought I’d see the day when Seb gets his hair messed up and doesn’t immediately fix it.”

Lance calls out, “Maybe we should start taking notes. This might be us in a few years.”

Grid Kids and Grand-Grid Kids

Charles saunters over to Mark and Jenson, holding up a race boot he’d just had signed by both of them. “Thanks for this, mates. It will be a special addition to my collection.”

Mark pats Charles on the back, “Anything for our grand-grid kid.”

Charles stops mid-stride, turning to look at Mark with a puzzled expression. “Your what now?”

Jenson chuckles, handing Lando a signed cap. “Didn’t Seb and Y/N mention? Since they’re your grid parents and they’re our grid kids ... well, that makes you our grand-grid kids.”

Lando bursts into laughter, while George, overhearing the exchange, raises an eyebrow. “Wait, so we’re like ... the second generation of grid offspring? This is getting complicated.”

Mick leans in with a smirk, “Hold on. So if I’m following this logic properly, that would mean double the birthday gifts, right?”

Jenson grins, “Well, perhaps but it also means double the expectations on the track.”

Lance playfully rolls his eyes, “Great, double the pressure. Just what we needed.”

Max joins the banter, “Are there grand-grid kid initiation rites we should know about? Because I’ve seen old photos of Seb and Y/N with you guys and let’s just say that fashion has come a long way.”

Mark feigns shock, “You’re dissing our style from back in the day? Careful, young one.”

Charles, cocking an eyebrow, shoots back at Max, “Especially considering the only thing in your closet is Red Bull merch.”

The group bursts into laughter, Max chuckling and nodding in acknowledgment. “Touche, Leclerc. Touche.”

[mactavishsgfandwife]

Dad!Simon Takes Your Daughter Swimming 🧸

i’ve started taking adult swimming lessons recently because i literally forgot how to swim 😭 it’s so fun tho and i’m good at it now that i’ve jogged my memory pure fluff! just simon being a good daddy (i love him as a girl dad it just makes sense)

Walking out of the changing rooms, you hold your daughter’s hand at the edge of the swimming pool, looking about for her father who seems to be taking his sweet time getting his trunks on. For the mean time, you focus on controlling your hyper little girl. Her hair bounces over her shoulders as she jumps up and down excitedly in her pink kiddie wetsuit - almost giving you a heart attack every time she makes a sudden movement, for fear that she’ll slip. In that anxious state, a tall, military man wrapping a strong hand around your waist almost makes you cry out from shock.

"Hello, love," he tries to hide his chuckle at how he made you jump, planting a soft kiss on your temple.

"God, Si, you scared me!" you laugh, still a little breathless, as his toddler starts to whine and tug your hand towards the pool, her arms somewhat restricted by her small yellow armbands.

"Hey, relax," he whispers into your ear softly, taking a moment to calm your anxieties. Oh, and he thinks he’s being smooth and subtle when he checks you out, but he’s definitely not - not that you care. When he sees your tensed shoulders gently start to ease up, he lifts the baby up into the air and steps down into the pool with her, making her shriek in joy. You giggle to yourself, silently noting how your husband chose not to wear that plain black tshirt. He almost always reaches for it when you go swimming, in an attempt to hide his scary scars from the little kids and to retain some of the comfort that he finds in covering himself - the same comfort he finds in his mask. But today, he was just in his trunks, and you couldn’t help but appreciate the sight of his warm, broad back as he held your little daughter on her tummy in the shallow end, encouraging her to "kick!" and "swim to daddy, sweetheart."

With one hand on your stomach, you gently lower yourself down the pool ladder - your back faced away from it to give your (still small) pregnant stomach some room to breathe. Watching you slowly descend into the pool, Simon lifts your three year old up onto his chest so that her chubby cheek is squished against his shoulder, and swims over to you. The little girl babbles and kicks her soft legs, convinced that it will help them move faster, making simon chuckle and plant a little kiss on her forehead before he stops next to you.

"Y’okay?" a firm but gentle hand supports your lower back as you finally land your feet on the bottom of the pool. When you’re down, that same hand wraps further around your back to lightly caress your stomach, the baby in Si’s arms still babbling and trying to swim away like a mermaid (she can’t actually swim).

"’Course I am," you grin, spirit lifted by your family and by the way the water supports your belly, taking some of the pressure off of your tender body.

"Daddy’s been teaching you how to swim, has he?" you let your body float, Simon still holding both of his girls close to him in the water.

"Can swim! I can swim! Swim!" your little girl squeals, her energy shining through her purple goggles, that would leave little rings around her eyes for a few hours after she took them off

"You gonna show Mummy how well you can swim..?" your husband grins. He gently loosens his grip around her, his hands never actually leaving her sides but still not restricting her freedom of movement.

With her new-found freedom, your daughter starts to giggle and kick her legs, chubby arms flailing and splashing water everywhere.

"Swim!” she squeals, wriggling and kicking, simon gently nudging her back upright when she loses her balance, "can swim! Daddy, can swim!"

"That’s right, baby," Simon coos, a little smile growing on the face that’s typically so rugged and serious. He’s so proud. <33

i hope this was up to standard! tysm for all the love on the last dad!si post!!! i want to do my next one on her falling over (inspired by this video) bc omg imagine him cuddling his little girl and kissing her knee better 😣😣😣

thanks for reading!!

@minimimmies as promised x

[brookie-kookie1943]

Ocean Man

Johnny Utah x fem!Reader - Fluff

Here’s another self insert about Point Break. Johnny basically asks you to teach him how to surf…

(All of these photos are from Pinterest and Google)

Warnings: Use of y/n, cursing, some inappropriate jokes.

~~~~~~

It’s another hot day in southern California. Waves from the sparkly sea crash onto the shore - narrowly missing the feet of children running around. Some would think the weather was absolutely unbearable. However, surfers like you would be used to such a heat wave.

It seems like even when you’re off work, you can’t escape the ocean. It calls to you like the sirens sailors claim exist. Today was a great day to spend your time surfing by yourself when usually you’d be teaching kids how to. So, you make sure to take one of your favorite boards out; the one with the purple to blue ombré design.

Little did you know that a man was watching you from afar. He was studying you like the federal agent he was. Johnny knew what he was doing was purely for the mission, but that didn’t mean that bikini didn’t remind him of the simple man he was.

Angelo would be pissed if he knew Johnny’s first pick was you. Did he seriously need to choose a hot babe to get closer to finding the Ex-Presidents? The answer to that depends on who you ask. Either way, he had you in his sights, and he was determined to charm you into being his unknowing entrance to the bank robbers.

You rode the waves like the professional you are. Maybe you were showing off a little. After all, you do teach children how to surf like you. Even with knowing that fact - that didn’t stop your buddies from challenging you every time. This afternoon was no different.

Bumping, splashing, distracting - it was the usual with your little group. You walked back onto the beach with your guy friend Grommet, the both of you ready to dry your long hair from all the potential arsenic in the waves.

Johnny made his slow approach towards you, a little mesmerized. There you were. Your hair dripping with salty water, those same droplets gliding down your skin like condensation. You were laughing at whatever Grommet said, not noticing the man in the wetsuit advancing towards you until he was in front of you.

You raised your eyebrow at him - the same questioning and intimidating look you gave to every unknown man that walked up on you. Grommet kind of smirked and turned away, knowing you could handle this. Johnny put on his best smile, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“Hey, the name’s Johnny Utah.” You stared for a moment, an amused smirk on your face. You didn’t make any effort to lift your hand from your side. You hoisted your surfboard under your arm instead.

“Uh-huh.” Your response was snarky, and you punctuated it by turning to walk away back to your towel. Johnny was a little taken aback by being brushed aside. Still, it only made him like you more. Were you the hard-to-get type? He had no problem chasing after you even after you pretended to not know him.

Truth is - you did recognize him. There’s no way in hell you wouldn’t remember such an ugly surfboard. You remember your students giggling at him two days ago while he was “surfing.” It was clear he had never been on a belly board, never mind a real surfboard.

He practically drowned right in front of your eyes. You would’ve went and saved him if your friend, Tyler, hadn’t got to him first. Man, she sure did rip into him, too. You had to cover some little ears. Even through all of his coughing and hacking, you saw how he was giving her the eyes. The eyes.

Oh no - you knew how guys like him were. Young, dumb, and full of cum. They get off and leave you hanging dry. You bet that he doesn’t even recognize you from two days ago because you were wearing a wetsuit instead of a *bikini*. Those pretty brown eyes don’t enchant your heart like you’re sure he wants them to.

“Wait! I wanna talk to you!” Johnny called out with a little laugh, finding your response funny. He knew you thought that he was immediately going to hit on you (which he probably will eventually) but he’s got to prioritize the mission first. So, in douchey guy fashion, he jogs after you.

Even though you think you know his game, something about how persistent he was made you want to entertain him. You bring your towel to your hair, drying it off as your tone stays amused, “Alright. I’m Y/N. What do you want?”

“I want you to teach me how to surf.” He gives you a pretty grin. The little smirk on your face is wiped off when he tells you that. Welp, that was the last thing you were expecting. Now you sort of feel like an asshole for assuming he wanted to harass you.

“I teach kids how to surf - not grown men. I’m sorry.” You inform him, a little confused as to how he even knew what you did for a living since you’ve barely ever seen him on this beach. Once again, Johnny doesn’t stop when you dismiss him.

“I know you do, but please. Just hear me out.” He stresses, giving you a more serious look this time. You sigh out your nose, mentally debating this until you wave a hand. You might as well listen to what his thought process is.

Johnny takes a step closer to you as his eyes turn soft and takes on a more vulnerable tone, “I want to learn how to surf because…my whole life, everything I’ve done has been for other people. I went to law school and played football because my parents wanted me to - I was sort of their hero.”

“I only realized that my goals were their goals when…when they died in a car wreck two years ago.” He lies. But you don’t know that yet, of course. Your expression softens slightly at his confession, which Johnny notices immediately. It’s working.

You’ve been working with children most of your life. You’ve met your fair share of children who didn’t have the best of lives. One year, you taught a kid who couldn’t seem to get adopted by anybody. Another year, a kid that ran away from an abusive home. It was easy to pull your heartstrings and get your sympathy.

“Surfing is my goal now. It’s for me. I mean - I’m from Ohio. I had never seen an ocean until I moved here.” He finishes, searching your eyes for anything. Your tone is softer than before, “I’m sorry for your loss, truly, but I teach kids. I’ve never taught adults.”

He sighs quietly at your response, knowing he’ll have to do some more convincing. The charming smile and soft eyes weren’t working. Neither did the sob story. But it did soften you. Maybe talking you up will break your resolve?

“Everyone I’ve talked to on this beach has said you’re the best. They told me kids come every year to learn from you specifically. That you teach kids who are still wearing diapers how to stay on a belly board…I want to learn from the best too.”

Good gravy - does this man ever quit? Hearing what he’s saying about you, hearing how we wants to be taught by you…it’s flattering. You’re humbly proud of yourself for the good opinions that correlate to you. It means you’re doing something right.

Speaking of doing something right…you can’t just not teach him. Look at him - he’s desperate! The guilt of refusing to teach someone even after knowing their sad past eventually convinces you to do it.

You sigh heavily, pinching the bridge of your nose as you reluctantly agree, “Ok…ok. I’ll teach you. But I’m not going to coddle you like I do with those kids. You’re going to become the best surfer on this damn beach.”

Johnny’s face lights up with a smile, one that sort of warms your heart. Despite you not looking forward to teaching him, you can’t help but laugh at his child-like reaction. Maybe he is just like the kids you teach. They need you as much as you need them.

“That’s alright - I like it rough.” He flashes that charming smile once again. You roll your eyes, but there’s no denying that you found his joke somewhat funny. Johnny saw that little movement your body did, like you were laughing. You can’t fool him.

“You like it rough? Ok. Meet me here at five. In the morning.” You challenge, ready to test his limits so he’ll have to quit. Little do you know that Johnny isn’t going to give up on you, and especially not the mission. He’s ready to catch whatever you throw at him.

“Sounds great! See you bright and early!” He beams, knowing his optimism will throw you for a loop. And it does - you expect most to groan and complain about being up early. It was surprising to see someone agree so easily, but guessing from subtly eyeing him up in his wetsuit…he’s definitely into fitness.

And now you have become the creep. But c’mon. He’s a guy close to your age with a nice smile, and your primal urges are wired to be attracted to him. Maybe not in personality (just yet) but he isn’t lacking in the heartthrob department.

As he turns to leave, you realize you can’t let him have the last word. You’ve got to throw him for a loop this time. Or at least get him thinking about you - not that you care, of course. So, you reach down into your bag before calling out to him.

“Hey!” You toss him something to which he quickly catches with one hand. Impressive. Johnny looks down at what’s in his hand - Mr. Zog’s Sex Wax. His first thought is that you’re into some kinky shit, and he looks up at you when he hears your laughter.

His shocked reaction makes you satisfied that you’re getting the last word. Of course, you knew what he was thinking; it was an interesting name for surfboard wax. “You’ll need that for your board. It helps with traction.”

Johnny smirks at how you stressed the word. Traction, huh? Perhaps it’s a sign of mutual attraction. He gives you a nod and a little wave, and you shamelessly watch him as he walks away in that tight wetsuit.

Maybe the wax is a sign for something that’ll happen real soon…

[ki-kink]

hey, i’m at an all-inclusive in mexico, i’ve been enjoying my time. for some reason, however, the diving instructor keeps coming up to me and offering me an open position as his assistant. i’ve never been diving, let alone worn a wetsuit! i’ll admit, he is attractive so i don’t mind it that much, but i don’t know what he wants from me..

Hey man, you came up too fast or what? You should know better, bro, that’s dangerous, you know? Anyway, yeah, they pay good here, real good. And with, uh, some “extra work,” you can make nice tips too. But how you gonna afford a vacation here, man? And why would you even want to? What you need is your gear and a hammock on the beach, bro. All that all-inclusive stuff? Nah, that’s not for you.

Next diving group’s coming up. That blonde college kid? Man, he keeps looking at you like... I dunno, like he wants something. Let’s see what happens after the dive, huh? That wetsuit bulge? Yeah, it’s saying something for sure.

[hamstermastersamster]

Tomb Raider I-III Remaster Outfits - 3) Wetsuit (Click for all outfits!)

Honest to god I hate that harpoon gun. Doing the underwater sections as a kid always used to terrify me, and all they give you is this slow-ass unresponsive piece of junk? NOPE. I'm a 'get-out-of-the-water-and-murder-from-the-surface' kind of gal.

Anyway, following a submarine down into the depths of the ocean with NO OXYGEN is absolutely insane but I am not gonna tell Miss Croft what to do with her time. I like my kneecaps intact and right where they are.

[skeletondeerart]

Sacred Waters, Sacred Hearts Chapter 1

A Male OC! Metkayina x Fem Human! Reader | Word Count: 1722

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A/N : Both Rukan and reader are in their mid 20's

" " = direct speech | ' ' = Metkayina sign language | Bold = English

Another night approaches as multiple moons emerge from the waves. I adjust my mask, ensuring it's sealed to my cheeks, as I shuffle off my light shawl, leaving just my wetsuit and waterproof tablet. The morning winds nip at my exposed skin, and I make haste into the reef, gracefully submerging myself and diving down to the reef bed to escape the chill of the evening.

I was one of the last marine biologists left on Pandora after the fall of the Omatikaya's Hometree, yet by the grace of Eywa I was taken into her embrace and was allowed to live amongst the flora and fauna. I now reside on the coastline a couple hours from the Metkayina settlements; respecting the ocean-dwelling Navi immensely, I made sure to leave them alone and stay in my small corner of the ocean; content with just researching and documenting the underwater flora and fauna. Though I may seem isolated here on my lonesome I do make frequent calls to Norm and Max to update their data files, ordering human supplies or just for a chat yet sometimes I yearn for someone else to share my experiences with...

Weaving through bioluminescent kelp, flippers boost me through the currents I glide to a halt and unsheathe my switchblade to harvest some vegetation and check on the coral's health. Happy with the healthy flora and the harvest I document photos for my log and bask in the temperate waters. I smile at the stillness from the ocean bed, turning onto my back and gazing up through the water's surface, mesmerised by the reflection of light shimmering across the lapping waves from below.

Eventually, my lungs begin to burn yearning for oxygen, and I move to breach the surface, breaking the water tension my mask immediately intakes the Pandoran air and swiftly converts it to plain oxygen. As I catch my breath, I watch Ilu ride the waves and birds dive into the ocean to nab up small fish for their dinner. My stomach rumbles at the through and my mind drifts back to the edible vegetation in my pouch, I paddle back to shore and squeeze the water from my hair before I begin stoking a fire to roast my own dinner.

Time gets away from me as I continue to do tasks onshore like chopping wood and transferring files into the databank. My thoughts are disturbed by a shrill ring, Norm's contact blaring from my tablet. I quickly accept it as Norm appears on the screen; giving a curt wave before he started speaking.

"Hey (Y/n), how are you? Hope I didn't catch you at a bad time, but I have a favour to ask." He rambles, arms gesturing awkwardly.

"Uh, nah I'm not doing much; how can I help ya Norm?" I say absent-mindedly as I continue weaving a new blanket, preparing for the cooler weather.

"Mo'at needs some specific medicinal herbs, but they can only be found in the deeper parts of the reef bed. Considering you're now quite an adept diver I thought to ask you first before connecting with the Metkayina traders."

"Oh yeah no problem, I'll duck out in a moment and get that heading your way no problem" I smile as I stand to pull my wetsuit back on from its drying rack.

Norm rubs his nape and bows his head in gratitude "I can't thank you enough (Y/n) just text me when you're done so I can send someone out there to collect the goods"

"Easy, I'll get back to you soon, but if you don't hear back by tomorrow afternoon assume I drowned" I laugh in jest.

I watch as Norm scrunches his face in horror "Don't make me come over there for a welfare check buddy, because I will! I swear it." Norm sighs exasperated by my words wagging his finger to the camera.

"Oh, I'm just kidding Normie; have some faith in me will ya." I giggle as I slip the thick fabric up my torso, Navi stripes adorn the fabric, mimicking the Metkayina's camouflage.

"How many times have I asked you to quit it with the 'Normie'…" Norm scolds but it holds no venom at all. "Look, you better update me straight away ok! I got to go; Max needs some help in the lab, see ya (Y/n)." He waves and disconnects as I wave goodbye myself.

I release a sigh as I take a final note of all the things I need and make sure my mask is free from damage as I set out. I walk out of the airlock to the edge of the mangroves and leap into the deeper portion, my vision is hindered by a myriad of bubbles for a moment before settling down, I begin the descent into the sandbank, I had no need for a flashlight due to the high concentration of bioluminescence, I glide through the waters and corals with ease and gradually letting some oxygen in through my air tank, I only used it for longer expeditions as I like to train my lung capacity.

I swim further from my base, lowering my altitude as I dive into a stunning deep cave. I spotted the herbs; it looked like sea moss; excellent in curing skin ailments when ground into a salve. I push faster through the currents and into the jagged coral formation that the moss grew on, not seeing the signature Metkayina markers for a protected area... I peeled it from its roots and placed it into a leather pouch, deeming it enough I turned to make my way back out, but I was stunned into silence as a massive shadow passed by the gaps in the coral.

It was an Akula…a massive shark-like beast who not even the Navi deem as a friend. My lungs constricted as I limited agitating the water around me. I waited with bated breath as the Akula swam circles around the exit, I peered timidly out as I no longer detect its presence. So, I make the decision to slowly rise to the entrance of the cave. I make the dash, but the Akula notices the disruption and flings itself in my direction, a terrified gargle escapes my throat as I weave hastily through the outcrops narrowly avoiding its snapping jaws.

In my adrenaline-fueled state, I didn't notice another join the fray. Until a muffled roar is heard from the Akula as it flees back deeper into the cave system. I burrow myself into the coral hiding from my painful death as I go to release more oxygen into my mask, my hands fumble with a pierced tube and my eyes widen in realisation.

My oxygen supply is drained and I'm so far from the surface.

My panic only spikes further as piercing blue eyes peer down at me cuddled up in the coral like a child.

It was a Metkayina patroller, he was mounted on an Ilu as he scowled in my direction, his rapid signing not going unnoticed.

I gingerly raise my hand and sign 'I mean no harm. I'm with the Omaticaya, gathering medicinal herbs for our injured, but can you help me to the surface I need to breathe…'

He shook his head frustrated but for a moment I could see the disbelief in his eyes at my fluency. 'You do not belong here tawtute, let alone in a protected area, go back to the forest.' But his eyes soften when he sees me start to go blue, my eyes pleading as I point to the surface. He sighs exasperated as he snatches my arm and hauls me into his chest atop his Ilu, jetting to the surface. My vision gets splotchy as we break the water, my mask luckily taking in the air again with no issue.

As I fill my strained lungs again, I'm abruptly shoved off the Ilu and dunk under momentarily pouting as I surface and gazing up at the Navi with a smug look on his face. He points his finger at me.

"Do not touch tawtute, it is a protected site and you're too close to the village" he states, shaking his head. "Go" He states his finned arm pointing back to shore.

"Sorry I didn't see the marker, I'll stay away, promise." I put up my pinky finger momentarily before realising he wouldn't know what it meant. He leans back, a hairless brow raising in suspicion.

"Silly tawtute…" He mutters under his breath before urging again "I'll accompany you home just to make sure that Akula leaves you be. I don't want your pitiful death on my conscience." He states "But you're swimming yourself…"

I laugh "Fine by me" I say before setting back on course. I paddle on the water's surface beside the Metkayina on his Ilu, swimming in silence for most of the way. I'm broken out of my thoughts as his words pierce the silence.

"What are those on your feet…" He questioned, with an ounce of curiosity evident in his tone. I gaze back for a moment checking for any foreign matter.

"Flippers. Helps me swim faster and easier, kind of how your feet and tail help you through the water." I say casually, lifting one from the water to flaunt it with a smile, his face scrunching up as water flicks him in the face.

"I see…" His words were cut short as my home was spotted over the water. Nestled into the mangroves and covered in my hand-woven cloths and netting.

"Well, here's my stop" I sigh as I pull myself up into the mangroves and onto the net platforming.

A curious hum leaves his throat as he gazes at my abode. "Looks somewhat like our villages… yet so tawtute." He mumbles scratching at his nape.

Honestly, over the past hour, I have grown fondness for this Navi. I can't help but blurt out "(Y/n)." His eyes shoot to me confused. "My name… it's uh (Y/n)" I state my cheeks flushing.

"(Y/n)…" He takes a moment letting my name digest "Rukan…" he replies before abruptly diving on his Ilu and swimming off in the direction of the village.

"Rukan…. What a nice name" I smile before heading inside to preserve the moss and notifying Norm of a successful expedition.

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