#fic: snow on the beach

[newtsdaisies]

I'm looking for 1-2 more Beta Readers for my DoomWitch fic Snow on the Beach. My current Betas are both too busy at the moment to beta for me (which is totally fine) but I worry about the quality being lesser without having someone else to look over it.

If you might be interested, please take a look over the info below to see what I'm looking for to make sure our expectations align! If you still are interested, please send me a message!

Basic Info:

Fandom: Hades (Supergiant) - Specifically Hades ii (Early Access)

Ship: Melinoë x Moros (DoomWitch)

Takes place in AU so any spoilers are pretty minor and mostly just mentions of characters connected to Mel

Tropes: Arranged Marriage, Strangers to Lovers

Rating: Currently Mature but will probably be moved up to Explicit later on.

Progress: Currently 9 chapters are live on Ao3 and I'm working on the 10th chapter

Chapters average around 2k.

In exchange for Beta Reading I will shout you out in the end notes of the fic and any chapter you beta for me (I will link your ao3 if you have one where you write fics) and I am willing to beta for you as well as long as it is a fandom I'm familiar with and a plot I'm comfortable with.

The ideal beta-reader would be:

Someone already reading and enjoying the story (but not necessary!)

A fan of the Supergiant Hades games & is familiar with or at least okay with minor spoilers for Hades ii Early Access

Fan of Greek Mythos

Probably would help to be a shipper of DoomWitch too considering that is the central ship in this one

Interested in tossing around ideas about the fic

My Expectations:

I have no set schedule for chapter releases and tend to release once my chapters are written, proofread, and edited.

Ideally, someone to beta-read new chapters relatively on the fly within 24 hours of me sending you the newest work. (I understand this is not always possible and that is more than fine)

General checks for sentences that don't make sense, plot holes, grammar mistakes, etc.

[instructionsnotincluded]

Hey!! I'm rereading Audrey's version (maybe it's answered further and I just don't remember or havent gotten to it, sorry if thats the case), but on chapter 18 Audrey and JJ go over all things related to exes and then she asks him about his favourite position and he says he won't say anything right now. So my question is: what is JJ's favourite postion, does he ever tell her and are you planning on addressing it (maybe in passing ofc, nothing big haha) in future chapters

Yes! I have answers!

18+ below!

JJ’s favorite position is very similar to the ‘teaspooning’ position. It’s a kneeling sex position, Audrey’s back is to JJ’s chest, giving him access to her hips, waist, and chest. It’s the same position Steve and Miranda do in the first Sex and the City movie, it’s the scene right after they reunite on the Brooklyn bridge.

And they actually do this position in Snow on the Beach! It’s chapter 38, towards the end! It’s after JJ’s run in with Luke and after his confrontation with the Pogues!

Thank you for reading and rereading!! That means so much!!

[ellecdc]

I have come with a Finnick request.

What about reader growing up in a district where it snowed every winter, then moved with Finnick to District 4, and she misses it deeply.

BUT, it gets cold enough there to snow and she gets all bubbly and excited and it's just fluff and Finnick watching her adoringly. I bestow creative freedom upon you, as my brain is fried. 🤍❄️

thanks for the prompt, dolly <3

Finnick Odair x gn!reader who misses the snow [898 words]

CW: written for a fem!reader but can be read as gender neutral, slight illusion to this being set post-rebellion but nothing explicit, reader's implied to not be from District Four, fluff

Finnick probably could have given it a bit longer, but after approximately 37 seconds of consideration, he decided to wake you up.

You’d been a touch quiet as of late, and though Finnick didn’t necessarily blame you, he wished he at least knew why. The holidays could be a stressful time of year, let alone all that the bunch of you had been through and all that you’d lost this past year alone.

But, you had each other, you were safe at home with him in District Four, and if what you needed right now was to be a little blue, well, Finnick understood, and he’d love you through it. 

And then he woke up this morning to snow, and he realized:

You had gone all out on the decorations - his coastal cottage looking more like a gingerbread house than the seaside oasis that it was - but even Finnick couldn’t help the nagging feeling that something was missing.

It was the snow. 

You’d been missing the snow. 

“Honey.” He murmured as he crawled up to meet you at the head of the bed, stationing himself on his forearms as he gently laid some of his weight on top of you. “Sweetheart, wakeup.” 

He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck as you groaned something incoherent though completely and utterly adorable. He spent some time trailing kisses along your shoulder and up your neck to your jaw.

“Come on, gorgeous, I gotta show you something.” He murmured into the corner of your mouth before pressing a kiss there.

“S’early, Finn.” You complained, though one of your arms wrapped around his shoulder to thread your fingers through the hairs at the nape of his neck as he continued dotting kisses over your face. 

“I know, honey, but I’ve got a surprise for you.” He insisted, though he could hardly take responsibility for the light dusting of snow layering the landscape outside.

You wrenched one eye open to look at him skeptically, and he laughed as he ran his thumb over your lashes to clear the remaining sleep in them. 

“What’s the surprise?” You asked, gauging whether it was worth extricating yourself from your warm cocoon or not. 

“It’s snowing.”

You nearly headbutted Finnick in your haste to sit up, throwing the blankets almost clean off the bed completely and sliding across the hardwood floors to smoosh your face up against the windows. 

Finnick hadn’t been lying, and you were met with the quite unusual yet very beautiful sight of snow dusting along the golden sand of the beach, disturbed only by the spots that the salty waves had splashed up and took the snow away with the tide. 

“Finnick.” You let out breathlessly, a moment of silence before you spun on your feet to look at him with tears in your eyes. “Finnick!”

“Sweetheart!” He emulated. 

“It’s snowing!” 

He beamed at you. “It is!”

You made a breathy sound before you took off out of the room, returning a few moments later with a hat, mitts, a scarf, and your boots. 

“Do you not want to get dressed first, sweetheart?” He asked around a laugh, though he bent down to help you put your boots on anyway.

“There’s no time, Finnick.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world, honey.” He argued, but you were already standing, hastily tossing the end of your scarf over your shoulder before pulling the door open and rushing outside. 

It was a sight; clad in only your pyjamas, scarf, mitts, hat, and boots as you stared up at the sky with as wide a smile on your face as Finnick could ever remember seeing on you, snowflakes settling into bits of your exposed hair that enjoyed your effervescence for but a few moments before they melted under your unyielding warmth and sunny disposition. 

“Finnick!”

“It’s snowing.” He agreed, smiling as he leaned against the door frame. 

“It’s snowing.” You whispered reverently. “It’s snowing! Finn! Grab your boots!” 

And who was Finnick to say no to you? So he ran back inside to grab his jacket and boots, as well as a coat for you. He returned to find you, disturbingly, on your knees as you piled the damp, heavy snow between your hands to create a very small, very lopsided snowman. 

You didn’t even startle as Finnick stepped up behind you to drape your jacket over your shoulders. 

“He’s very cute, honey.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple before he pulled your hat down further over your ears. 

“I love him.” You claimed eagerly.

“I love you.” He volleyed. 

You turned to look up at him then, causing his insides to feel not unlike the snowflakes leaving tiny dew drops in your eyelashes; he, too, melting under your effervescent warmth. 

“I love you too, Finn.” You told him, standing to come and fold yourself into his chest; your damp mittens pressed an indent into the back of his jacket as he held onto yours to keep it from sliding off your frame. You tilted your head up and rested your chin on his chest, eyes overflowing with love and contentment. “I love this. I love our life.”

Finnick decided then that he would have to figure out how to make sure you never went another holiday without your snow, not if it made you this happy. 

“I do too, sweetheart.”

[slytherheign]

SNOW ON THE BEACH | tasm!peter parker

PREQUEL TO A WALK TO REMEMBER.

CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONE-SHOT.

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x reader

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

SUMMARY: you start to see your best friend in a different way at the same time the snow starts to fall.

WARNINGS: doubts and unspoken feelings. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. as written above, this is a prequel to another fic of mine but this can also be read as a standalone. THIS IS A GENDER NEUTRAL FIC but if you see something that pertains to a specific gender then pls reach out so i can change it!

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO BACK TO THE STATION. CLICK HERE FOR ALL THINGS SOTB (reviews, commentary, etc. about this fic).

It was late November and the neighborhood was gearing up for the upcoming winter season. Normally, you would stay home for moments like this, staring at the window as you waited for the snow to fall. However, this time was different because your best friend had other plans. He all but pulled you up from your couch where you were peacefully taking a nap to lead you out of your house. Apparently, for him, this kind of weather was perfect for walking along the beach.

You and Peter have known each other ever since you were children. The moment your family moved into his town, he was the first kid who wanted to be your friend. There was no question why you instantly became best friends. Since then, you have shared everything from secrets to dreams. 

Always inseparable, rarely without the other.

Always been “just best friends.”

But a shift has shown itself—unspoken feelings that simmered beneath the surface that neither of you fully understood or dared to acknowledge. For you, it started in your third year of high school, and since then have lingered every time you were with him. As much as you hoped it would go away at some point, it unfortunately didn’t. And it certainly wouldn’t go away right now as he walked with you along the coast, your hand in his, intertwined.

The beach was secluded under the cloak of night, where the only light came from the stars scattered across the sky like pocketfuls of glitter. The ocean whispered against the shore, the waves reflecting the moonlight in a soft, silver glow. The air was cool, almost cold, but not unwelcoming, like the gentle feeling of his hand. The atmosphere is filled with indescribable magic, a surreal blend of familiarity and something entirely new. You recognized a spot you used to visit as kids—a large driftwood log, half-buried in the sand—and nudged Peter to look at it.

“Remember when we used to sit at that spot when we were kids?” you asked.

“How can I possibly forget? That’s where you first told me you wanted to travel the world,” he chuckled. “Remember that spot?” he pointed at the spot to the side of the large driftwood log.

“That’s where we built that crazy sandcastle,” you giggled, cheeks flushed from the chill in the air. “I swear, we thought we could actually live in it forever.”

Peter laughed, his breath was visible in the night air. “And then the tide came in and washed it away. We were probably devastated for like, what—ten minutes?”

“More like ten seconds,” you replied, eyes sparkling with mischief. You turned to him, a playful grin on your face. “We just ran back into the water, forgetting all about it.”

He smiled at the memory, squeezing your hand gently. The temperature dropped as you strolled further down the beach, sending a shiver down your spine. Peter noticed and let go of your hand so he could shrug off his jacket and drape it around your shoulders. The warmth of his gesture seeped through, but you didn’t miss how he decided not to hold your hand again.

“Thanks, Pete,” you said softly. Your heart fluttered in your chest for the kind gesture but you already missed holding his hand. For a second, you were about to reach for his hand but he pulled it away from you to stuff it in his jeans.

In the quiet of the moment, you felt a sudden ache in your chest. You turned to look at him but he was staring straight ahead. He seemed deep in thought and you didn’t bother interrupting him. Besides, thoughts of your own began to find their way into your head at the same time. 

You didn’t know what was wrong with you lately. Every time you see him, you feel this… weird flutter in your chest. It was like your heart was trying to tell you something, but you couldn’t understand it. You have been best friends for so long. He was always there, always the one you could count on, always the one who made you laugh when you were feeling down. But now… now it felt different. You couldn’t help but notice the little things when he was around. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, the way he always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. And when he wasn’t around, you’d find yourself missing him more than you ever did before. But missing your best friend was normal, right?

But then, why did it hurt so much every time you saw him with someone else? Why did it feel like your heart was being squeezed when he talked to other girls? You should be happy for him, you should want him to be happy. But instead, you feel… jealous? Was it jealousy? You didn’t even know… but you hated it. You hated that you felt this way because it didn’t make any sense.

Life was emotionally abusive but he was the one guiding light that gave you inspiration to wake up every day. You’ve been through everything together, from heartbreaks to triumphs, and you always leaned on each other for support—because that’s what best friends did.

Just best friends. It was all you've ever been.

So, why couldn’t you stop thinking about what it would be like if… if you were more than that? What would it feel like to touch his hair when he sleeps, to look into his eyes that were reminiscent of flying saucers from another planet for hours, to know the feeling of his lips on yours? But then, what if you were wrong? What if this was just some passing thing, and you would ruin everything by saying something? What if he didn’t feel the same way? What if you lose him? You couldn’t stand that. You couldn’t stand losing him. But if you didn’t say anything, how would you ever know? How would you ever figure out what these feelings were? Maybe… you were just overthinking everything. Maybe this was just a phase that would pass if you just ignored it long enough… but what if it wasn’t? What if this was something real, something worth risking everything for?

You wished you could figure out what your heart was trying to tell you. Because right now, it felt like it was screaming, and you were too scared to listen.

You just wished you knew what to do. 

Then, unexpectedly, delicate flakes began to fall from the darkened sky, dancing down like tiny stars coming to rest on the earth. At first, it felt unreal—a gentle winter blanket spreading across the beach, contrasting the warm feeling that was in your chest. Other than the falling snow, the sky above was clear, except for a faint, otherworldly glow on the horizon, it reminded you of the aurora borealis, though neither of you have ever seen it in person.

“It’s snowing,” Peter whispered as he looked up, his eyes wide with wonder. The snow gathered in his tousled hair, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his astonishment. You both paused, turning your faces to the sky, letting the soft flakes melt on both of your skin. 

“Snow on the beach,” he mused.

“I know. It’s weird… but beautiful,” you replied.

Peter looked at you without you noticing, catching a fleeting moment when the moonlight seemed to illuminate your face from within, making your features soft and almost ethereal. He smiled.

“It is beautiful…” he agreed. 

You turned your face just to see him staring at you.

For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, everything around the two of you faded into a serene silence. You saw that the same wonder you had was reflected in his eyes. And suddenly, all your doubts were cast aside. There was a vulnerability in his expression that you had never noticed before, a silent question that mirrored your own feelings. 

Peter reached out, enveloping your hands with his. The touch was electric, sending a shockwave of awareness through both of you. You paused, holding your breath, afraid to move, afraid to speak, as if knowing that this moment might shatter everything between the two of you.

The snow fell heavier and your hearts synchronized with the rhythm of the ocean. You shared a knowing smile, the kind that held a thousand unspoken words as you both realized what was happening.

Peter broke the silence first, his voice quiet but steady. “Do you ever wonder…” he started, the words hanging in the air like the snowflakes drifting down. He hesitated, searching for the right way to express the feelings in his heart. “If we could… be more?”

You felt your heart race at his words, a warmth that was stronger than any chill of the winter night spread through your body. “Yeah, I do,” you whispered, nervous yet elated. 

It was as if, for the first time, you were seeing each other in a new light, one that revealed what has always been there but was hidden beneath layers of friendship. It was beautiful, but also terrifying, like seeing snow on the beach—something that you felt shouldn't exist, yet here it was, impossibly real.

“Maybe we could try?” Peter suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’d like that,” you replied, smiling.

In an instant, everything changed. The world blurred, the periphery fading away until all that existed was the space between you. The stars, the moon, the endless ocean—they all receded into the background, insignificant compared to the look you shared. At that moment, everything clicked into place. The memories of your secret smiles and late-night conversations flooded back, but now they carried a different weight. 

“So…” he started. “Be mine?”

Peter raised a hand to brush a snowflake from your hair and you leaned into his touch with your heart pounding.

“Yes,” you answered with no hesitation.

As the snowflakes continued to drift down, you leaned into each other, closing the gap between the two of you. It was a kiss that felt like everything and nothing at the same time—gentle, hesitant, but full of the promise of what could be. The world around you seemed to hold its breath as if the very stars were watching and waiting to see what would happen next.

When you finally pulled away, the world resumed its quiet motion, but something had definitely shifted. The snow, the beach, the stars—all of it felt different, it was like the universe itself knew and played a part in what just happened and what would happen.

Neither of you spoke, afraid that words might break the spell or jinx everything. 

And in truth, you didn’t need to say anything more. The way you looked at each other, the way your forehead rested against his—said it all.

You continued to walk along the shore hand in hand, the snow crunching softly beneath your feet, leaving a trail that would soon be covered by fresh snow. The future was uncertain, but for now, you were contented in the knowledge that you’d found something beautiful—like snow on the beach.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx @checo2011

TASM!PETER PARKER TAGLIST: @mymilkducts @i-am-woman-strong @lauraneedstochill @jeanettexkillian @ms-mandalore @enaraism @alessandralol @sad-darksoul @sincericida @mentallystablepotato @mich0731 @logolepsic-insomniac @k0miiki @dreamsarecloserwithyou @jumilzzz @primroseparker @preciousbabypeter @myheartonthemove @rebecca-johnson-28 @silkholland @ellievickstar @okkulta @geekygamerchick @starqwerty20 ​ @the-quiet-observer @softiepeterpan @willowhaired @sflame15-blog @pompeygirl89 @remuslupinsdocs

[girlkisser13]

snow on the beach

"i’ve never seen someone lit from within" "blurring out my periphery" "my smile is like i won a contest" "and to hide that would be so dishonest"

pairings: colin bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings/tags: mostly angst. childhood best friends to lovers.

summary: after one of his many travels, colin comes back home to see that you are engaged to someone else.

in the sun-dappled gardens of aubrey hall, colin bridgerton and miss y/n y/l/n had spent their childhood years in innocent joy. their laughter had filled the air as they climbed trees, chased butterflies, and whispered secrets beneath the ancient oaks. yet, as the years progressed, those simple affections deepened into something far more profound.

as the two of you grew older, your feelings for him began to shift in subtle yet profound ways. one evening, on the eve of colin’s departure for yet another of his travels, you found herself alone with him in your favorite garden alcove. the moonlight cast a silvery glow over the scene, illuminating the quiet turmoil in your heart. you could not let him leave without confessing the emotions that had burgeoned within you for so long.

“colin,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “before you leave, there is something i must tell you.”

he turned to her, his expression one of curiosity and mild apprehension. “what is it, y/n?”

drawing a deep breath, you continued, “i have long cherished our friendship, but of late, my feelings have deepened. i love you, colin. more than a friend, more than anything. i needed you to know before you go.”

for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. colin’s eyes widened, but he said nothing. the silence stretched on, each heartbeat echoing like thunder in your ears. finally, he turned away, his thoughts a whirlwind you could not fathom.

“y/n, i…” he faltered, unable to find the words.

disheartened, you nodded, forcing a brave smile. “safe travels, colin,” you whispered before walking away, your heart aching with the weight of unspoken words.

the months passed slowly. you threw yourself into the demands of the upcoming season, but your heart remained shadowed by colin’s silence. summer brought with it a suitor who showed a keen interest in you. with your family’s financial situation growing precarious, his attention was both a blessing and a burden.

your family estate, once thriving, had fallen on hard times. your father’s investments had failed, and the pressure to secure a suitable match was immense. the suitor’s wealth and status seemed like the perfect solution. he was kind, attentive, and clearly smitten with you. but your heart belonged to another, a man who had not spoken a word since your heartfelt confession.

when colin returned to london, he found you distant and reserved, a stark contrast to the spirited girl he remembered. the danbury ball was always a grand affair as the first ball of the season, but colin’s heart sank as he watched you dance with a lord, your engagement now the talk of the ton. his heart twisted in anguish as he saw the resigned look in your eyes, the sparkle that had once been there now dimmed.

unable to bear it any longer, colin interrupted your dance, his eyes blazing with determination. “may i have this dance, miss y/l/n?” he asked, though it was more a demand than a request.

the man across from you frowned. "we are in the midst of a dance, bridgerton."

colin's gaze did not waver. "i was addressing miss y/l/n, not you."

taken aback, you hesitated before nodding reluctantly. "very well, mr. bridgerton."

as the two of you began to waltz, colin leaned in, his voice urgent. "y/n, you cannot marry him."

your eyes flashed with anger. "and why not, colin? my family's funds are dwindling. i have no other choice."

colin's grip tightened on your waist, his voice desperate. "he is not right for you, y/n. he does not deserve you."

you pulled away slightly, your expression one of deep hurt. "and who, pray tell, is right for me? who deserves me?"

he opened his mouth but said nothing, the silence spoke volumes. your eyes filled with tears of frustration. "it is too late, colin. i have no choice. my family’s funds have gone down, and i must secure my family's future."

"if it is your family's funds and reputation you are concerned about, marry me," colin implored. "i have far more wealth than that man you have chosen to marry."

you laughed bitterly. "no, colin. i will not enter into a loveless marriage. you do not love me."

"and you love him?" colin questioned.

"i believe i can grow to love him in time," you declared.

"that is not real love," colin protested.

"do not speak to me of "real love," colin!" you yelled, your voice breaking with emotion. you turned and fled into the garden of the danbury estate, your heart a storm of conflicting emotions.

"y/n, wait," colin called, following you into the night. he caught you by the hand, his voice choked with emotion. "i was a fool, a coward. i did not know how to respond, but i have never stopped thinking of you. please, forgive me."

you whirled around, your eyes blazing with anger and hurt. "you dare to say this now? after i bared my heart to you and you left me without a word? you are ruining my chance to save my family!"

desperation gave him courage. he cupped your face in his hands, his voice a fervent plea. "y/n, i love you. i always have. please, do not let this be the end."

you pulled away from him, walking further into the garden, "you had your chance, colin. you left me with nothing but silence."

he caught your hand once more, his heart pounding against his ribcage. "y/n, i have been away for far too long, and in that time, i have come to realize something of great importance. when we were younger, i made a promise to you— a promise that i would never be dishonest with you."

you turned towards him, your gaze remaining steady. your arms were crossed protectively over your chest, a subtle barrier against the world.

colin took a step forward, his eyes earnest. "it is with that promise in mind that i must confess something i have hidden for far too long. y/n, i have never met anyone so filled with light as you are. your presence brightens every room and every moment. your smile... it is as if you have won a contest, and the prize is the joy you bring to those around you. i love you, deeply and truly."

your guarded demeanor softened slightly, a crack forming in the fortress around your heart.

a heavy silence followed his confession. your lips parted slightly, but no words emerged. your posture remained rigid, a shield against the vulnerability you surely felt.

his heart ached at the sight of your guarded stance. "y/n," he said gently, "please, let me show you what i cannot express merely in words."

before you could respond, he kissed you, pouring all his love and regret into that single, searing kiss. for a moment, you resisted, but then you melted into his embrace, the intensity of your shared emotions overwhelming any lingering doubt.

when the two of you finally broke apart, your eyes were filled with tears, but also with a glimmer of hope. "colin, you hurt me deeply," you whispered. "but i cannot deny my heart."

he held you close, his voice a whisper against your ear. "y/n, i will spend my days proving to you that my love is true. please just give me the chance."

you looked up at him, "colin, i... i have waited so long for you to say these words. i feared i would never hear them."

he gently brushed a tear from your cheek. "i am sorry for the pain my silence caused you, but i am here now, and i will not leave again."

your arms slowly encircled him, your embrace warm and full of the affection you had long harbored. "and i believe you, colin. i truly do."

with a final, lingering kiss under the starlit sky, you and colin had found your way back to each other, your love rekindled and stronger for the trials it had endured.

[dre6ming]

Wedding plans -TDBR

Pairing: Austin Butler x reader

Warnings: none, fluff, a little crying

Plot: making wedding plans with Austin is so wholesome

Word count: ~1.9k

Masterlist

TDBR series

Tag list - add yourself

A/n: this was a request and I apologize it took me so long to fulfill it. Request are still open but keep in mind I’m very slow when it comes to posting, but feel free to send them

Thinking back to 9 years ago when you met Austin, you never thought you'd end up here, drowning in tulle and chiffon, laughing with your best friends, tripping over lace veils. "What do you think of this?" You make a little pirouette to show the ample skirt, feeling like a princess head to toe. "It's cute." Taylor says, drinking some lemonade, brushing her bangs back. "Yeah, it's nice" Roxanne adds clearly not loving the dress as well. "So it's not it!" You say dropping your arms at your sides, sighing heavily. "Maybe the next one?!" Timothee sounds hopeful, but part of you feels that is only because, this is the 10th time you all dedicate a day for dress shopping. "Ok I'll go try it!" You say a bit defeated, lifting the front of the dress so you don't trip. You take one more look at yourself in the mirror as you walk away, you liked this one, but to be fair you liked every single one before this one as well, they are all so different and unique, but they are simply not your dress.

The next dress you put on, gives you shivers. It's made of silk, with pleats and boning, accentuating your waist perfectly and the dropped shoulders make you look angelic and sexy at the same time. This is it. "I found it!" You squeal, coming out of the dressing room in a heist, giggling and kicking your feet happily.

"Wow!"

"OH my god this is it!"

"You look wonderful!"

"I'm going to cry!"

"Please don't cry mom!" You giggle, blinking back tears, as you turn around to take a look in the big mirrors. The dress hugs your waist, the silhouette complimenting you so beautifully, your breasts look amazing in it too and magically it's your size, so no alterations will be needed. "I can't believe it! I finally found it!" You say, your voice breaking as you still try very hard not to cry. Taylor comes up from behind you, hugging your shoulders and resting her chin on your shoulder, her eyes watch you through the mirror and you notice her glossy blue eyes, tears in them as well. "I can, because it was meant to be!" She sniffs, kissing your cheek before sticking a veil in you hair. You take a better look at it in the mirror, immediately panicking when you recognize the piece, starting to take it out of your hair, but Taylor stops you before you can.

"Taylor I can't, this is..."

"Your something borrowed!" She assures, smiling bright. The veil somehow works perfectly with the dress, like it was meant to be. Looking at it you remember as clear as now the day you saw Taylor in a boutique not much different from this one, find her dress and her veil. She got married to Joe wearing this, the memories of one of her best days are tied to this piece of material. "Ok ok..." you breathe out, smoothing your dress. "What about gloves? I know Taylor already gave you the veil, but mom insisted I give you these?" Timothee says, handing you a pair of silk gloves. "Thanks Timmy!" You say hugging him tight as you put them on. The look seems now complete and you feel complete.

You walk through the dark apartment, tip toeing, trying not to make too much noise, knowing Austin is probably asleep. He was away filming some projects for the past week and you were supposed to be here when he got home, but he insisted that you don't rush your day with the girls and Timmy. "Y/n?" You hear Austin's groggy voice and it stops you right in your tracks. "Baby?" You feel his arms circle your waist in the dark and your body turns to slime. He places a kiss on top of your head, inhaling your scent. "I missed you!" Austin tells you honestly, squeezing you so tight you think you might burst at the seams, but you love feeling like this, engulfed in him. "I missed you too!" You sigh into him , happy to feel him on you, rubbing your cheek on the soft hairs on his chest. "I found the dress." You announce , biting your lip excited for his reaction.

"The dress? You mean THE dress?" Austin takes a step back looking at your face, trying to see if you're lying. "The dress!" You nod, smiling at him. He grabs your face and smashes his lips onto yours. You let him take control, while his mouth dominates you, his tongue explores your mouth and your heart flutters in your chest. "Can I see?" He asks breathless, "No! It's bad luck!" You chuckle, shaking your head, threading your hands in his soft hair. "Hmm ok, then show me everything else you got done while I was gone?" He arches a brow, smirking at you. "Oh yes yes, come on!" You say jovially, grabbing his hand, dragging him to your shared bedroom to get your wedding binder.

"Ok so I got done with the sitting chart, I might have done it a little risky, but, it'll work." You open the glitter decorated binder and show him the sketch you made. "So we sit, Katy and Orlando at the same table as Tom and Daya, ok" Austin says, reading closely over the guests , seeing where your brain has decided that they each should sit. "And I thought we could get away with having Baz sit with your dad and sister, I mean it would be a family table, right?"

"Mhm, yes , it works, honestly this looks fine to me. But what about your mom and dad?" Austin asks, not being able to make full sense of the chart. "We'll have a long table, we sit in the middle, my bridesmaids of my side your groomsmen of yours, for dad I'm saving a seat at the table with Baz and your dad, he hasn't RSVP ed yet" you explain and he nods following your chain of thought. "Ok it sounds like a plan, I think it would work, but I think Ash wants to bring Robbie, would that be fine?" He asks, referring to his nephew. "Hm sure, then I'll have Baz and Cathrine as the table with Pedro, move around Roxy and Joshua, then Ashley and Robbie and Zac can sit with Joe" You try and Austin seems to consider it for a minute, even if he know he'll agree anyway. "Good thinking baby!" He admits and you move on to showing him the flowers you picked "No purple star flowers?" He asks, looking at the white gardenia bouquets, thinking how you left out your favorite flower. "I have a theme, ok? It's white and creams and stuff." You defend.

"But honey, I think we could play with the colors a bit, don't you?" Austin suggests and you swipe on the next doc, titled: back up flowers. "Are you sure they look fine, tho?" You question, fearing the white and purple bouquets would be too much or too out of theme. "There's my girl!" He says, kissing your cheek. "They look like something that should be at our wedding, don't they? The purple star flowers, the sunflowers and you even put my favorite in, the pink magnolias" Austin can be so over the top sometimes, but he's an actor, so that's so in character. "I wanted to have something from the both of us."

"Well I think it look so beautiful way better then the white boring ones you had as a first option" he argues. "Oh ok miss I know everything about flower arrangements" you joke, kissing him, throwing the binder to the side, turning to face him and straddling his hips. "I want it to be perfect!" You whisper, playing with the baby hairs around his forehead. Austin grins and pulls you closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "It's you I'm marrying, it's already perfect." His hands squeez your hips and you sigh, inhaling the smell of him. "I know, I can't believe it's happening!" You admit absentmindedly, drawing circles with the tip of your finger on his shoulder. Austin sighs and kisses your neck, his hot breath fanning over your skin, leaving goosebumps down your spine. "Me neither." He admits, laying back on the pillow, with you on top of him, head resting on his heart. You enjoy the soft beat of it, as your cheek absorbs the heat of his skin. "I cried yesterday, in the shower." You tell him and he tenses underneath you. One of his hands moving from your waist to your chin, forcing you to look as him, his blue eyes wonder over your face, looking over every freckle, curve and shadow. "Why?"

Austin is a bit scared to ask, he fears you might get cold feet and put an end to all of this, which to be fair he wouldn't mind, he loved you ten years without you being he wife, he'd love you a thousand more just the same. "I'm scared, I - my parents made it sound like marriage ruined them. I don't want it to ruin us." Tears prickle your eyes as you speak, and his thumb caresses you cheek catching a falling tear. "It won't, we are not them, we love each other too much. Y/n I want you to marry me because I can't see a life without you, but I want you to know, if you even feel like this isn't what you want, I'll love you just as much for as long as I live." Austin confesses and you can't even find a speckle of doubt that he means every syllable spoken. "I want it, I want to have your name, I want to be your wife, I'm just defrosting my girlhood heart, cause I used to love weddings." You tell him, pulling closer to his face and connecting your lips to his soft ones, time standing still, as your bodies stay intertwined. "I know baby, take your time!" Austin says rubbing you back and you hide your face in the crook of his neck, yawning, which makes him chuckle. "Sleep mrs Butler, I'm home now!" Austin lulls you, pulling the duvet over the both of you, as you fall asleep on his chest, snoring softly.

"Have you written your vows?" You ask halfway asleep, which makes Austin laugh, knowing that no matter how tired you are you'll always make sure to have everything checked for the day, before letting your mind disconnect. "Oh my Virgo baby, ever so organized. I have!" He tells you in a low voice, barely above a whisper, hoping you'll finally let yourself sleep. "Hmm, can I hear them?" You ask, blabbering, Austin grins knowing your having the fight of your life to stay awake right now. "Yes, in a month on august 13th." You groan and wrap your arms around his neck, falling asleep without another word, and Austin does the same as he massages your back, the soft brush of your breath against his neck and the comforting weight of you on him, being his favorite sleep medicine.

Tag list:

@galaxygirl453

@rainydayz101

@samaraannhan20

@marlowmode

@myradiaz

@areuirish

@micaelainthe60s

@homebodybirkin2003

@pennyroyalcreep

@purejasmine

@strokesofstokes

@lanasfloridakiloss

@denised916

@kibumslatina

@macey234

@melodixs-blog

@shantellescrivener

@chewiethecatus

@guacala

@fangirl125reader

@father-of-2cats

@lucid315

@ashtag6887

@ilovehobi101

@richardslady121

@jensmithin

@julie181

@chrisevansgirl34

@ranaissingle

@onecrazydirectioner

@maria-1287

@austinbutlerssimp

@kingdomforapony

@acoolnight

@tarot-sybarite

@goldenmarygio

@frozenhuntress67

@anonyboo63478338

@littlewhiterose

@thefallofthedamned

@1eminicookie

@rose-deathman

@iheqrtaustin

@desitravelsblog

@prompted-wordsmith

@austinsvlrslut

@crystallizedth0t

@hertvgirl

@peanutbutterinacup

@austinswhitewolf

@saniyahgordon

@thatgirlthatreadswattpad

@slowsweetlove

@jaqueline19997

@formulapierre

@ourlifeforchaos

@sunflowerleii

@b-bradshaw

@dacreshoney

@uknowulovejj

[lomllover]

snow on the beach.

summary: y/n is on tour and harry joins her for one of her songs pairings: singer!yn x boyfriend!harry warnings: so so much fluff - You had been on tour for a total of five months and this was your final show for a little bit.

"Alright, Chicago are we re-" You began to say and saw a sign that made you laugh. "Wait hold on.. can I read your sign?" You asked the fan in the crowd and waited for their answer.

"Yes!!!" The girl shouted back at you and held her phone up higher to get a better angle of your guys' conversation.

"Her sign says, 'Y/N please reject me so I can move on'.. What's your name?"

"Charlotte!" She responded.

"Well Charlotte, you'll be very upset to hear that I have a boyfriend," You smiled as the crowd got louder at the mention of Harry. "And I think he would also be upset and a little jealous if he read your sign. What if we brought him out to confirm that?" You said with a smirk and watched as Harry walked onto the stage.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and gave it a light squeeze. "Now what's this I hear about you trying to get with my girlfriend?" He asked once everyone settled down.

Charlotte laughed and shrugged. "Have you seen her?"

"Have I seen her?! Of course I have! She's smokin' hot."

You buried your face into Harry's side as your cheeks turned red and shook your head. "Shhh.. okay.. We have one more song for you and I was going to bring H out to sing it with me so your sign was amazingly timed, Charlotte." You turned to Harry and gave him a small nod. "Ready baby?"

He nodded and you both put your mics on their stands as the band started playing.

"One night, a few moons ago I saw flecks of what could've been light. But it might just have been you passing by unbeknownst to me." You started singing and smiled at Harry. "Life is emotional abusive and time can't stop me quite like you did and my flight was awful, thanks for asking. I'm unglued, thanks to you." You shifted your weight from one side of your body to the other to start singing the chorus. "And it's like snow at the beach weird, but fuckin' beautiful. Flying in a dream stars by the pocketful you wanting me tonight feels impossible but it's comin' down no sound, it's all around."

Harry couldn't help but smile big at you singing that he almost forgot to start singing his part. "This scene feels like what I once saw on a screen. I searched "aurora borealis green" I've never seen someone lit from within blurring out my periphery," He watched as a couple in the pit started dancing with each other so he couldn't help taking his microphone off his stand and moving closer to you. "My smile is like I won a contest and to hide that would be so dishonest and it's fine to fake it 'til you make it 'til you do, 'til it's true." He sang as you turned to face him.

"Now it's like snow at the beach, weird, but fuckin' beautiful. Flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful. You wanting me tonight feels impossible. But it's comin' down no sound, it's all around." You both sang together. "I can't I speak, afraid to jinx it. I don't even dare to wish it."

You both moved down a couple of stairs to the cat-walk part of the stage and sat down on them then Harry started singing again, "But your eyes are flying saucers from another planet. Now I'm all for you like Janet. Can this be a real thing?"

"Can it?" You finished the lyric and held his free hand. "Are we falling like," You started this lyric for him to finish as small pieces of white confetti started falling down from the ceiling to act as snow.

"Snow snow at the beach? (Snow at the beach) Weird, but fuckin' beautiful. Flying in a dream (Flying in a dream), Stars by the pocketful. You wanting me (You wanting me). Tonight feels impossible, but it's comin' down. No sound, it's all around." He finished the song and you both stood up to bow to the crowd and blow them kisses.

"Thank you everyone so much please get home safe tonight, I love you all so much. Thank you for the best 5 months of tour I could ever ask for." You looked down at Charlotte and blew her a kiss. "Thank you." You mouthed to her and she smiled big.

You and Harry left the stage and went back stage to your dressing room. "That was so much fun, H. Thank you for coming and singing with me." You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug.

"Anything for you, honey." He nuzzled his face into your neck. "I love you."

-

sooo what'd you guys think?? pls make sure to lmk and reblog this story if you did like it to help my account grow! i love you all so much and thank you for taking time to read my stories. <3

[moonysgoldenstar]

I was listening to snow on the beach by Taylor and Lana, and I imagine the lyrics as a newtmas au in the glade where it suddenly snows IT SNOWS IN THE GLADE I don’t know why but it would be interesting to read. I’d write it but I don’t think I’m good enough for that and also english is not my first language

[camaro-and-smokes]

Snow on the Beach

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Characters: Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Additional Tags: Summer, The Quarry, Pining, POV Steve Harrington, First Kiss, Fluff, Feelings Realization, Boys kissing, Billy Hargrove needs a hug, Harringrove, Steve Harrington has a crush on Billy Hargrove Words: 2,074

This is my 2nd entry to both @steveharringtonbingo & @billyhargrovebingo for Card 1, square B2: Free space; First kiss

Also on AO3.

Author's note: *says on one breath* I just wanted to write something summery super soft fluffiest fluff and I had that piece where Steve sees Billy written for months for something else and it didn't fit there and I didn't know where else to put it so I put it here. *breathes* Title is from a Taylor Swift song.

Summary: Steve decides to go to the quarry to cool off because the air conditioning broke at his house. Billy also happens to come there.

::::::::::

Steve's bored. B-O-R-E-D and sweating. The air-conditioning broke the other day and, of course, it's not the only one that has done that in the heatwave Hawkins is currently experiencing. It could take for forever to get it fixed, so he had to make a nest in the living room in front of the TV with all the fans he found in the house. But it's already the third day and watching TV is quickly getting old. Everyone he could hang out with has left town, so he's on his own trying to come up with something new to do.

He decides to go to the quarry. The water there is cool at least, unlike the water in his pool, and maybe there are some girls he could chat with. Who knows what could follow.

When he arrives at the quarry, it's all quiet. The sun has dropped from the sky, but it's still glimmering through the woods and between the cliffs, caressing the surface of the road and the lake. He parks the BMW up on the cliff and walks down by the lake.

He's just walking by the waterline when he hears a car. He glances towards the road, and the car is turned off. Someone gets out of the car and the door whumps closed. They haven't noticed Steve, so he pulls behind the cliff and peeks around it towards the car.

It's Hargrove.

He's leaning on the Camaro, his ankles crossed. He has a smoke between his lips and he flicks the Zippo once, twice, three times before the flame comes alive. He inhales greedily through the cigarette, his cheeks hollowing, and snaps the cover of the lighter closed before dropping it into the back pocket of his jeans. He looks down at the smoke between his fingers. He's probably thinking something really hard because his brows furrow, knitting tightly together. Then he looks in front of him, seemingly not really looking at anything in particular though, takes another drag, and flicks the end of the smoke with his thumb to make the ash fall off. He repeats the routine of inhaling through the smoke and flicking off the ash until the smoke is almost finished.

That's when he lifts his head. Maybe he hears something, because he turns to look slightly to his left—and suddenly Steve's world halts between breaths.

The sun is setting, but the rays of light shine through the trees and one of them hits Billy's face, his silhouette carving a shadow into the light and shattering it into thin beams around him. His curls shine bright in the light around the back of his head like a halo, but the silhouette of his face is perfectly sharp. From the curl on his forehead down to his nose, trailing past plump, slightly open lips and finally curving to his chin and neck. Billy must feel the sun on his face, because he closes his eyes and a rare, genuine smile creeps on his face.

Steve has never seen Billy smile like that. Every smile he's ever seen on his face has always been calculated, mean or cocky, made for one thing only: asserting dominance. But this is something Steve has never seen before. The smile is soft, and it lifts Billy's cheeks up, crinkles the corners of his eyes and smooths the crease that was between his eyes a moment before.

Billy is pretty, Steve already knew that, but now Billy looks simply beautiful, and Steve can't tell for the life of him why he hasn't noticed it before. Maybe he's been too occupied with everything that's been shit in his life, including Billy, who's gotten under his skin in a bad way. But that has just changed, because just like that, Steve Harrington is in love with Billy Hargrove.

But then the breath that halted, continues.

"Enjoying the view, Harrington?" Billy asks. Steve's annoyed for a moment—ashamed that he got caught and realizing that maybe that was why Billy was smiling—the feeling rises fast as if it came from his spine and he almost snarks back at Billy. But he manages to stop himself, and instead he asks, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful, Hargrove?”

And of all things Hargrove could do, bark a laugh or say something snarky or humiliate Steve somehow because he caught him staring, he does the unexpected—blushes. His skin grows pink from his neck up to his cheeks and to his forehead. “Fuck you, Harrington,” he says, but the usual bravado is missing. It’s almost bashful. “The heat must've messed with your head.”

Steve steps out from behind the cliff and looks down, unable to hide his smile. After a while, he looks up at Billy. “I got a few beers. Want one?” “Sure, why not,” Billy says after a while, and stumps his smoke with his boot before walking to Steve.

He sits next to Steve on the gravel near the waterline, leaning his elbows to his knees and accepts the can of beer Steve offers him. Steve looks at him from the corner of his eyes, feeling his own cheeks heating. “Your own pool wasn't enough?” Billy asks. The question isn't sharp like it might've normally been. It's casual, awkward even. “Thought the water might be cooler here. And there might be chicks to chat with.” A smug smile creeps on Billy's face. “Not cooler and no chicks. Tough luck.” Steve purses his lips together to keep his smile from widening. “Well, you're here. That counts.” Billy turns his head slowly to look at Steve, incredulous. He looks as if all the air was punched out of his lungs. Steve lets out a laugh and drinks from his can. Then he glances at Billy. “Wanna take a swim?”

Steve thinks he has the upper hand in this game, but he realizes that he's lost the reins when Billy stands up and starts to pull off his shirt. He does it slowly; the fabric licking his sides and his abs as it slides slowly up, jumping up a little faster as it reveals his pecs and the friction perks up his nipples.

It's deliberate. With all his toying, Steve revealed to Billy that he might actually want him to do exactly this.

And Billy delivers.

The shirt slips over Billy's head, and he turns to look at Steve, his lips slightly parted, his other eyebrow raised as he tosses the shirt onto the gravel. Steve looks away and clears his throat. Billy tsks and asks, teasing, “Isn't this what you wanted to see, pretty boy?” Steve feels his cheeks burning. He can't form a word, he just stares in front of him. From the peripheral vision, he sees Billy smiling. He hears Billy opening the zipper of his jeans. Steve swallows and carefully glances up. The jeans come off as slowly and deliberately as the shirt. The waistband hugs the curve of Billy's asscheeks, making them jiggle a little as they're released from the tight hug of the likely tailored fabric. Billy steps out from the jeans one foot at a time and tosses the jeans on the ground next to his shirt.

That's when Steve realizes Billy is not wearing any underwear.

Billy glances at Steve, and as he walks towards the water, he asks, “Are you coming, Harrington?” “Mm-hmm,” Steve squeaks to his own embarrassment. He gets up and pulls off his shirt.

Steve's undressing slows down when he looks at Billy walking into the water. The confident strides are slowed down by the water that resists his movement and his glutes are working harder the deeper he gets. He's thigh-deep in the water when he finally dives in head first, vanishing under the still glimmering surface.

Steve feels his heart drumming hard against his sternum as if it was whacking its way out from its place with a sledgehammer. He takes off his jeans and briefs as quickly as he can and runs after Billy.

Billy is already halfway towards the buoy that's anchored to mark the opening of the actual quarry, the deepest spot in the lake. Steve catches him easily. Billy has to be an excellent swimmer because he's a lifeguard and likely a surfer too, so he's definitely not swimming as fast as he could. He's letting Steve to catch him.

The game is on, Steve decides.

When Steve catches up with Billy, he picks up the pace, knowing Billy will follow suit. They race to the buoy, Billy eventually winning just by an arm's length. BIlly raises his arms up in the air, laughing. “Winner!” Steve pulls himself against the buoy and looks at Billy with a smile. “That's because I let you.”

Billy's face is lit by sunlight as he quickly looks away from Steve, smiling shyly.

Steve pulls himself closer to Billy and stops right next to him. He can see Billy's chest raising and lowering fast, seeing his raging heartbeat from the bulging vein right beneath the curve of his jaw.

And he knows it isn't because of their short race.

Steve leans into Billy's space, just an inch away, memorizing the position of each tiny freckle on his nose, every crinkle in the corner of his eyes, how impossibly long each one of his eyelashes is, how deep the cupid's bow on his upper lip is.

Billy looks back at Steve and closes the distance between them, connecting their lips together.

Billy's lips are soft, opposite to what Steve thought. The kiss tastes like beer and smoke, but to Steve's surprise hint of strawberry lures in from somewhere. He knows it's not him, so it has to be Billy.

They pull apart, and look at each other, equally confused and surprised. Steve feels like laughing with joy, but Billy's gaze is so soft and his smile so small and fragile that Steve reels the laughter in and settles for a gentle smile.

The last rays of the sun dance on Billy's flushed cheeks, and the light reflects from the water to his eyes, making them sparkle, and suddenly Steve feels so full of everything. He's full of joy and longing and all the fuzzy feelings and passion and he just knows. This is it. It's stupid, it's just their first kiss and there's no guarantee that he'll even get another one—and yet...

He leans in again and Billy meets him halfway.

The kiss is more daring now, and Steve wraps his arm around Billy's waist, pulling them tightly against each other. Billy brushes Steve's lips tentatively with his tongue, and Steve parts them, inviting Billy in. They taste each other in tiny bits, slow careful touches of the tips of their tongues, then growing braver and ending up lapping against each other as far as they can reach.

Steve has kissed his share of lips. Thin and thick ones, chapped and soft ones, cold ones outside in a snowfall, warm ones in the heat of the night.

But never ones like Billy's. It feels new, like it was his first kiss. He vaguely remembers his first kiss, but he knows it never felt like this. Billy is a good kisser. He knows exactly when to push in and pull back, when to nip Steve's lip and when to allow Steve's tongue in his mouth to savour it.

Steve lets go of the buoy he's been holding onto until now and wraps his both arms around Billy, and Billy wraps his legs around Steve's waist, neither ever breaking the kiss.

When they finally run out of air, the break is just for a second and then they're glued back together from their mouths.

They don't notice when the sun vanishes behind the horizon. The dusk settles in, even though the sun still lights the tops of the trees high on the cliff.

“Should we go?” Steve finally asks, whispering, when he sees Billy's skin rippling with goosebumps. “I guess,” Billy breathes reluctantly. “It's cooler now, though.” Billy smirks. “What about the chicks? Worth chatting with?” “I wouldn't mind chatting a bit more.” Billy smiles a wide smile, one that traps his tongue between his teeth and lets go of Steve. Steve's so enamoured that he doesn't realize that Billy is already swimming towards the shore, full speed. “Asshole,” Steve mutters under his breath, and starts chasing Billy as fast as he can.

[sabraeal]

Just a Second Away from Being In Love (Or Alone)

[Read on AO3]

Written for @another-miracle, who asked for any Obi POV in Wide Florida Bay-- but hopefully an obiyuki one 🤣. It actually took me a while to circle in on which one to pick; there's a few that I had my eye on earlier in the timeline, but when it came to obiyuki bits...I knew it had to be this one, which starts off a small mini-arc in the established relationship part of this fic!

It takes him two hours and two pounds of eggplant, but after five minutes of this newest crisis of morale, Obi finally gives in: he going have to use his Phone A Friend for this one. Or at least someone friendly. Ish.

“Tell me this is gonna be worth it,” he huffs, contorted into nature’s worst pretzel shape; his newest attempt to locate anything that could pass for another pie plate in this place. No way Doc’s lived here for three years without putting at least five of the most grandma-worthy vessels for piping-hot fruit somewhere in the cabinets. “Tell me this is gonna be the best thing I’ve put in my mouth my whole life. A fucking paradigm shift when it comes to food.”

“It’s eggplant parmesan. You’re gonna wish it was chicken.” Kelly Ann clucks her tongue, and god, she can be a thousand miles away, but he knows she’s got a knee balanced up on her desk, head tipped back because her eyes can’t roll far enough. “But you just spend half an afternoon drying the most finicky vegetable known to man, so you can’t turn back now. You’re committed.”

That’s the sort of talk that would have given him a life-threatening case of the hives years ago, limping around Atlanta’s unforgiving streets looking for an Urgent Care more quickly than taking a jab to the gut. But now he just asks, “But she’ll like it though, right?”

Kelly Ann sighs, already sick of him. “Yes. The poor innocent you’ve tricked into thinking you’re boyfriend material will think it’s the best thing she’s ever eaten. Even Cal’s officer buddies eat it, and they’re more picky than the four-year-old.”

“I dunno,” he hums, hand-pulverized breadcrumb scattering over sea foam ceramic. “She cooks really good. Have I told you about the Cornish hens? They—”

“I have heard all about the Cornish hens. I am sick of hearing about the Cornish hens.” Obi’s mouth twitches. Gotta be hard for her, having to share the pedestal for Gayle’s Favorite Child. At least with someone who isn’t her own kid. “What kind of guarantees are you look for here? That it’s going to get you laid? It will definitely get you laid.”

“Kelly Ann.” If his hands weren’t covered in egg, he’d be pressing one to his chest, scandalized. “I wasn’t— I’m not doing this for sex.”

She snorts. Which, frankly, he’s earned. But he’s turned over a new leaf. Become a new, better man. One who knows that the most important part of a relationship isn’t what happens between the sheets.

But it certainly helps hedge your bets, especially when you’re as much of a fuck up as he is. Hell, if sex was an option, he wouldn’t be here, debating which hand he’d used for the wet ingredients and which was for the dry. Oh no, he would have been far too busy making her see shrimp colors to worry about whether eggplants stayed crispier fried or baked. But since he’d had fallen for her absolutely genius— though, as Yuzuri warned, biologically inadvisable— beach-dinner-sex seduction strategy, Doc’s on the bench for the next quarter, sexy-time wise, and he’s—

Well, he’s got to show her he’s got talents out of the bedroom too. Or, er, off the couch. And shower. Sometimes even—

Ah, well, non-flat surface based talents. Cooking’s supposed to be one of them.

At least, it would be, if his eggplant slices weren’t eating floor. “How are you supposed to even get these slippery bastards over to the tray? They just keep— fuck.”

“Just go slow,” Kelly Ann informs him with an aggravating amount of patience. “It’s not a race.”

“I am going slow,” he snaps, gingerly transferring his next slice to the rack. “There is no possible way I could be going slower. I’m going to be here for days just doing this. Years from now, archaeologists will find my body and wonder why I’m only halfway through—”

“If there was an Olympic event for complaining, you’d take gold five years running.” She can tease him as much as she like, but there’s no bite to it anymore, no sharp teeth waiting to take a nibble. No, he’s pretty sure that the stretch on her vowels means she’s smirking; the closest thing to a smile when she’s aimed in his direction. “Maybe you should be doing this for sex, it sounds like you might need—”

“You keep this up and I’ll ask Gayle when you’re thinking you’ll have round two.” His mouth is all teeth as he adds, “After all, Laila would make such a cute big sister.”

He can’t see her, but he can hear her seething on the other end of the line. “I know where you live.”

“It’s a fourteen hour drive at best and I’ve got Mom on speed dial.”

Her scowl radiates from the speaker. “Fine,” she grits out. “Guess I’ll just have to tell her we’re waiting until number two could have a playmate.”

Obi blinks down at her picture. “Huh, Toddy’s found some girl? That’s fast. He was single at—”

“I’m not talking about Toddy.”

There’s enough silence in the kitchen to make his ears ring. “…What?”

“Oh, come on, Obi,” Kelly Ann sighs, as if he’s the one being obtuse. “The only people you two were fooling at Christmas were yourselves. And now you’re spending a whole day pampering eggplant to impress her?”

“I had a day off,” he murmurs, knees suddenly as solid as his egg dredge. “And I don’t think battering and frying count as a spa day.”

Kelly Ann grunt, unconvinced. “Sure, sure, we can sit here and have you deflect all day. But when it comes down to it…you’re serious about her aren’t you?”

As a heart attack. Which would be fine, if they weren’t barely two months in to the longest relationship of his life. “I think it’s a little soon to say that, uh…”

“That you love her?” His heart beats so loud in his ears he can hardly hear her ask, “You do, don’t you? Love her?”

“Yeah.” It’s a miracle he can even speak with his mouth this dry. “Of course I do.”

“Have you said that? With your Big Boy words?”

He has to press his hands against the counter to keep them from shaking. A strategy that would go better if both of them weren’t covered in egg gunk.

“Ah, gotta go,” he gasps, already reaching for a towel. “Making a real mess of all this.”

“Obi—”

The first finger clean shoots out, cutting off the call.

“There,” he sighs. “That’s enough of that existential crisis.”

*

The eggplant’s fresh out of the oven and sauce just off the heat when the door opens with a shush, his own personal problem stumbling out into the living room, trying to toe her sandals into the tray. If he weren’t elbow deep with this casserole dish, he’d saunter out to appreciate her attempts; there’s a lot on TV nowadays, but none of it can compete with Doc nearly giving herself a concussion trying to unlatch one of those little buckles. TLC used to say you learned something new every day, and listening to her grumble approach swears without ever intersecting, Obi agrees.

“Oh, really.” Most people might be happy just to hurl abuse at inanimate objects, but not Doc. Oh no, she’s got to reason with them.  “This sort of…of…tomfoolery is very…rude. I think you should just…stop…if you would…”

He waits until the first tell-tale clatter and clunk, to call out, “Welcome home.”

“Obi!” she yelps, and oh, he might not be able to see it, but he knows that shocked look: mouth as round as her eyes, skin flushed down to where it meets the swoop of her collar. Extremely kissable, is what he’s saying. “You’re here?”

A tap of the sauce spool sends a chunk of it skittering across the stove, but he grins anyway. “Am I not supposed to be? Did you have plans? Maybe even naughty—?”

“No!” It’s more of a croak than a gasp. “No, I mean…you’re supposed to be here. I’m happy your here. You” —her voice drops, soft, like her pillows— “belong here.”

He thought he’d known all the ways a heart could ache these past few years, but when she talks like that, ah, he’d never thought it could feel this good. Or this terrifying. “You’re not denying the naughty plans thing.”

And she still doesn’t, going so quiet a guy might get suspicious, if he didn’t know— keenly— that she was still in the shop. Taking her nice places and making delicious, boyfriend-worthy dinners has been great; a bigger rush than sex in a bathroom stall. But still, when most of their nights involve staying in, settling into the couch the way they always did, just with the new, heady knowledge that they both are wanting the same things…

Well, there’s been a few inadvisable make out sessions. Exciting ones, the kind that involve hands going under shirts and down pants and wearing hoodies in eighty degree weather the next day. But every time they wandered beneath her shorts— or, more than a few personally exhilarating times, skirts— the mood swerved off the rails, ending things before they— or well, she could get anywhere. After a three-year dry spell, Obi thought a few weeks would be a breeze, a quick breather between rounds, but after a month of having her moan his name at just the simplest touch—

It’s a special kind of torture, he thinks as the other shoe drops. Especially when Doc’s never been one to behave.

“You are home early.” Doc doesn’t often get the jump on him— in shitty childhood vs playful girlfriend, there’s a clear winner every time— but this time, when her sweet voice pipes up from his elbow rather than the galley window, he does. “And cooking dinner?”

“Yeah, I, ah…” She’s always been a curious little squirrel, skittering hither and yon, but when she leans around him to catch a peek of his hard work, her breasts brush against his arm, and, well— like he said. It’s been a long time. “Haah…just needed to let some data compile for a diagram. Thought it might do better on my laptop on our internet.”

He should be playing Tetris with these eggplant pieces right now, but Doc doesn’t make it easy, not with the way she tucks herself against him, her front pressed to his side, a burning line from shoulder to hip. “Are those eggplant?”

One small hand traces a path across his belly, just below his navel, and— and Obi can read a room. Really he can. It’s just not possible that she’s putting down what he’s picking up. “Y-yeah.” He clears his throat, willing it back into an actual, grown adult’s register. “I, uh, got the recipe from Kelly Ann. She…”

Her wrist twists, just enough to dip the tip of her finger beneath his waistband, and oh god, okay, he can’t take it. “Can we talk?” he asks, desperate, one hand gripped around her wrist. “Just for a second here. Because I…I need some clarification, I think.”

Doc flusters, every visible inch of her skin red as she tries to slip from his grasp. Which is absolutely not happening, not if she’s barking up the tree he thinks she is. “S-sorry! I just…I thought…”

One tug sends her careening back into him, every inch of her pressed against every inch of him. Or well, most of them. He's got ten or so that don't quite match up “I’m not complaining about the thinking here. I’m confused about the doing, because I thought we weren’t supposed to, er…”

Do the doing isn’t really where he wants to take this sentence. “I thought,” he starts again, a shade more collected, “that you were in the shop.”

“No.” Her cheeks flush so pink he’s half tempted to bite them, just to see what she’d taste like against his tongue. “I-I mean, I was. But I went to my doctor today, and um…?”

Every muscle in his body stiffens, tense like a cat ready to pounce. “And…?”

Doc might be bold enough to throw herself out windows and into swamps full of at least three of his most deadly fears, but at the twitch of his dick against her hip, her eyes skitter back toward the counter. “A-are you at a good place to stop?”

The eggplant’s going to get floppy in the sauce, and none of it will be as good as it would be if he finished getting this in the oven now, but he can hardly care, not when she lets out a delicious little gasp as she bumps into the counter.

“What exactly did the doc clear you for?” he rumbles, leaning in to give her parted lips the barest brush. “This?”

Her fingers clench at his shoulders, as frustrated as the moan that slips from her throat. “Obi…”

There’s a warning in that, a promise for what will wait for him if he keeps up his teasing, and it only makes his next taste all the sweeter.

“This?” It’s a whisper against her lips, one lost when she swallows it whole. Those fingers yank him down, trapping him in this endless drag of lips and tongue, each one teasing out another moan, another shiver, until he’s nearly drunk from it.

One of his palms scrapes up her side; the silky material of her dress catches on his calluses before he dips beneath it, her nipple already pebbled against his palm. “This?”

His mouth drops to catch it, and oh, if he thought she’d been close before, there’s nothing but cloth between them now, her body arched to fill the curve of his. “Obi!”

She’s trembling in his grip, only the arm at her back keeping her upright, and oh, it’s nothing to trace his fingers up her thigh, to trace the edge of her panties. “This?”

His only answer is a whimper and the bite of nails at his shoulder. It’s enough; he shoves them to the side, the small hairs there tickling his palms. And when the tip of his finger slips between her folds—

“Jesus. Fuck.” His forehead rests against her shoulder. “You’re…?”

Wet. Soaked. His mouth is too dry to get out the words. He doesn’t need to, not when she nods, wiggling against his hand. “Uh-huh.”

“Hah.” He licks his lips, hoping she can’t feel how he trembles now, every part of him drawn as tight as a bowstring. “How about this?”

His fingers dip inside, two sinking straight to the last knuckle. God, he nearly cums right there, from the noise she makes. “Is this what the doc cleared you for, Shirayuki?”

She whines, a pathetic, frustrated sound. One he’d be happy to tease out of her again, if she didn’t reach down and pump his fingers into her again, like he might need the help.

“Haah,” he breathes, hard. “Yeah, I think I can help with that.”

By the way she’s moving, it won’t be enough. Not nearly enough for either of them, not with his cock straining his jeans, soaking them where it’s trapped up against the band. He grinds against her hip, trying to get some relief, pulling her even tighter against him as his fingers work, and—

“Obi,” she gasps, pushing his shoulders away. “We eat on these counters.”

He’d argue that, if they weren’t already sharing space with dinner. Instead he leans in, giving her one, long kiss as he drags his fingers out of her. “Your room or mine?”

“Whichever,” she sighs, hopping up into his arms, “is closer.”

[martianbugsbunny]

Blue Skies Smiling At Me (A FrankenWolf Fic)

Well dearies I've got a new Frankenwolf fic for you! It's one of very few simple fluffy fics I've done in my life (what can I say, I thrive on the angst and the drama and the romance) so if it's maybe not quite like the rest of my fics there is a reason, I'm not just slacking. Anyway, I tried, and I think it turned out fun, so read on and enjoy!

Ruby settled in on her blanket on the sand, a cooler full of Coke on one side and a pile of books on the other. It had been a couple of weeks since anything catastrophic had happened to Storybrooke, and summer was in full swing with bright blue skies and brilliant sunshine, so a rather large portion of the town had decided to gather on the beach for an impromptu party.

Snow sat down next to Ruby, leaning back on her own blanket. “A moment to relax will be worth all the sand I’ll be sweeping out of my apartment for the next week,” she joked, putting on a pair of white cat-eyed sunglasses. “I might even take a nap.”

“How wild,” Ruby teased, opening her first book. She had a couple of hours to kill before Victor’s shift at the hospital ended, and a stack of unread romance novels a mile high. “I’ll nudge you if you start looking lobstery.”

Snow chuckled as she turned onto her stomach, nestling her head on her arms.

After a while the smell of barbecue filled the air. Ruby glanced up from the page she was reading (she was already halfway through her second book); the wolf in her was very interested in whatever meat was cooking. Over at the grill, Granny was bossing David around—it seemed hectic, but the large chunk of meat that was smoking away looked mouthwatering, so Ruby supposed it was a good enough system.

“Food’s ready!” Granny called. “Come and get it!”

Ruby waited only long enough to poke Snow awake (what kind of friend would let a friend miss out on good barbecue) before dashing across the sand to collect a paper plate for her own meal. A table was set out just past the grill with desserts, most of them from the diner, and Ruby piled her plate with both barbecue and a slice of chocolate pie before returning to her spot on the sand.

As she dug into her food, a pair of strong arms circled around her waist. “Hey good-looking, got a bite to spare?” Victor teased, his breath ghosting warmly over the shell of her ear. Ruby chuckled as he pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder, then snatched a small chunk of the pork off her plate.

“Up for a swim later?” Ruby asked, pulling a bottle of Coke out of her cooler and handing it to Victor. “The bay is pretty calm today.”

“Hey, I didn’t buy this swimsuit just so you could look at me in it,” Victor said. “Maybe a little bit for that, but not completely.” His whole body shook as he laughed, and with his arms around her, so did Ruby’s. It was a red suit (she loved that he wore red for her) and it had a subtle darker crimson swirl pattern that matched the one on Ruby’s vintage-cut one piece.

“Help me finish this barbecue first,” Ruby said, offering him the plate. She scooted out of his embrace so he could eat, leaning back on her elbows and simply staring at him.

The warm summer breeze drifting across the beach ruffled the blond curls around the arms of his oversized sunglasses. He hadn’t been outside long enough yet for his skin to start turning red, but his face was a little bit flushed just from the heat. And best of all, he was looking back at her with what she knew was a mirror of the expression on her own face: pure adoration—and that was the most handsome expression she’d ever seen on him.

Ruby had cold soda, warm sand, blue skies, and the most wonderful husband in the world.

Life was good.

[newtsdaisies]

Snow on the Beach has been updated!!! Chapter 9 is out now!!!

[xxcookiecrumbsxx]

Do you like wenclair and Taylor Swift?? Then I have a fic for you!! Snow on the beach songfic of Wednesday and Enid realizing that together they are weird but fucking beautiful. Also featuring: the movie It Takes Two and Enid teaching Wednesday how to hit a baseball. I hope you enjoy!!

[theorganasolo]

I really like how you used the only one bed trope here!

"“Hey, it’s Javier. You– you’re probably showering, or already asleep. I just– I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings these past days, or– or any day, really. I wanted you to know that. You’re good at what you do, you really are, but– I worry about you, I guess. And I know that I shouldn’t, that I shouldn’t treat you differently. It’s– it’s not because I don’t like you. I like you too much, if anything, and– and now I know what it’s like to sleep next to you, and– anyway, I’m– shit, I’m making a fool of myself. Just– just call me back. Please.”" - soft and a little insecure Javi is so precious!

thank you for writing and sharing with us!

like snow on the beach

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~2.8k

summary: You're on a work trip with your boss, who you don't like and who you're convinced doesn't like you either. Unfortunately, there's only one bed.

tags/warnings: only one bed trope (ayyyy), fluff, idiots in love, alternating povs, reader has hair that drips down her neck after showering at one point but there are no texture or color descriptors, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, my nonexistent knowledge of colombian geography which i'm asking you to ignore for the sake of this silly story THANK YOU

a/n: my entry for the summer lovin' challenge brought to us by queens @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy <3 i got the moodboard you see in the header and the location by the water. i'm also posting a little early but i'm too excited and it's almost midnight here so i think it's gonna be fine hehe

biggest love to @sizzlingcloudmentality who held my hand through writing this and patiently listened to all my complaints lol. i love drinking more caffeine than pedro and writing with you while getting distracted by cats <3

dividers by @plum98!

find my full masterlist here and follow @janaispunknotifs to get notified when i post a new fic :)

You’re hot, too hot. 

It’s disorienting, as you blink awake, slow to get your bearings. Arms are wrapped around you, caging you in, engulfing you in the warmth of the body pressed against your back. Hot air is fanning against your neck, accompanied by a scratching sensation on the sensitive skin. 

Your surroundings are unfamiliar, faded wallpaper in an unappealing shade of green and light filtering in through the battered up blinds. It comes back to you in pieces, the motel you’re staying at, the small Colombian town where you’re hoping to get a hold of one of the Cali cartel men. 

The obnoxious scent of Peña’s aftershave is flooding your nostrils, paired with the traces of tobacco that follow him everywhere he goes. It’s honestly embarrassing, how easily you recognize it.

It clicks into place now. The arms around you, the warmth. The scratch that you now realize is his mustache as he’s breathing against your neck.

You start wriggling around, causing the man behind you to stir, a confused groan coming out slightly muffled, his mouth still so close to your skin. He lets go of you after a second, allowing you to turn around and glare at him. 

His face is already forming his signature annoyed scowl, an expression that you’re more than well acquainted with.

“What the hell are you doing?!” 

He sounds different like this, voice still thick with sleep, a hint of the disorientation that you’ve shaken off by now. 

“What am I doing? I woke up with your arms around me, Peña.” 

He blinks, shifting to sit up and lean against the headboard. You mirror him, putting as much space between you as the rather small bed frame allows. 

“Sorry,” he allows after a beat, running a hand through his hair, tousling the mess of black strands that has formed in his sleep. “That wasn’t… appropriate. I apologize.” 

If you weren’t as annoyed right now, you’d probably think that he looks adorable like this. The you from a few months ago would most likely go wild at seeing Javier Peña right after waking up, after he held you in his arms no less. 

The you from a few months ago hadn’t experienced what an asshole of a boss he could be yet, hadn’t been taken off investigations again and again, because Peña thought you weren’t ready. She also hadn’t heard about his terrible reputation with women, hadn’t been subjected to all the office gossip that surrounded him yet. 

Now, after days of practically begging him to take you along on this trip because the whole investigation was based on information that you had gathered, you’re stuck in this motel room with him. Something about your booking of two single rooms accidentally having been processed as one double room, with no other rooms available because of course there weren’t. 

Peña had offered to sleep on the ground, or in the car, but you had waved him off, thinking about how often he had complained how his back was getting worse the older he got on the drive here. You hadn’t expected to wake up to him all but wrapped around you. 

Maybe a small, very small part of you is still going wild about it. A part that you can easily swallow down though. He’s objectively attractive, yes. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s an asshole.

“Just forget it,” you mumble, heat rising belatedly in your cheeks. Gathering your clothes for the day, you flee to the bathroom, eager to wash the whole decidedly weird situation off your body and out of your mind. You’re here because you have a job to do, not to get flustered around your boss. 

When you reemerge, wet strands of your hair dripping down your neck, he’s already dressed, clasping his hands in a way that almost seems nervous. If you weren’t pretty convinced that Javier Peña isn’t physically able to get nervous. 

“I– I’m really sorry,” he repeats, raising from the worn down arm chair he’s been sitting in. “I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position. I’m not– I’m not exactly used to sharing a bed.”

A scoff leaves you at that. Sure, Agent Peña, who’s notorious for sleeping with his informants and with at least half of the female staff of the American embassy, isn’t used to sharing his bed. 

“Don’t worry about it, Peña.” 

You turn away before he can reply, collecting your notes on the investigation that you hope will come in helpful eventually. You don’t catch the remorseful look in his eyes, or the way they linger on you as you open the door, the early morning light illuminating your figure.

It’s another day filled with nothing but waiting and growing frustration, just like the one before. The sun is beating down on the car that you’re occupying, the heat suffocating even with the windows rolled down and the cool bottle of water that you’re pressing against your neck.

Minutes tick by, turning into hours that go by too quickly and seem to last forever at the same time. Peña is surprisingly quiet, not goading you in the way you had expected him to. 

“Maybe the information was bad,” you mumble eventually, sinking deeper into the car seat. The leather is sticking uncomfortably to your skin and you can’t shake the growing feeling that you’ve insisted on coming out here for nothing.

He slowly turns his head in your direction, regarding you through the dark tint of his aviators. 

“I looked at it. We wouldn’t be here if it was bad.” 

You huff, your patience running short and shorter at the subtle indication of his superiority, his quiet arrogance, always so fucking sure of himself.

“You weren’t exactly thrilled about coming here, remember?”

He raises a brow, a hint of impatience on his own features.

“I wasn’t thrilled about you coming here.” 

You roll your eyes, openly scowling at him now. 

“It’s my intel.”

“Doesn’t make it less dangerous, does it?” 

Biting your lip, you force your blood to not boil over. He’s still your boss, at the end of the day, someone you probably shouldn’t start cussing out, no matter how openly he underestimates you and how badly it annoys you. And you’re gonna have to share that wretched bed with him again tonight. 

Javier watches your face, watches you swallow down your anger, watches your teeth digging into your plush bottom lip. He understands your frustration, understands that no part of this trip is turning out the way you expected it to. 

You’re still new to the workfield, not yet experienced with the hours upon hours of waiting, more often than not without a satisfying result to show for it. If he’s being honest with himself, he isn’t mad about it this time. He’ll rather have you frustrated than in danger. 

You want to prove yourself, you’ve made that abundantly clear. You work hard, determined to bring in results, hungry for praise. It’s not that he doesn’t see that, doesn’t think that you’re capable. But he’s seen enough, enough injuries, enough psychological trauma, enough deaths, to know that he wants you far away from that side of your work. 

Even if that means you’re angry at him more often than not, a glint of bitterness in your eyes every time he refuses to send you out yet again. 

After another few hours, accompanied by the increasing rumbling in both your stomachs, he finally calls it quits for the day. 

“We can drive back to Bogotá tomorrow,” he quietly offers on the way back to the motel, after picking up food for the both of you and refusing to let you pay for your share. “Gather more information, see why we didn’t find anything.”

You huff in return, irritated about the whole situation. The one chance you had to convince him to take you seriously, and this is what you get. “Fine,” you agree, gritting your teeth. Maybe your intel was bad. Maybe you just aren’t that good at your job.

“Keep to your side of the bed tonight,” you grumble later, after the bored woman at the reception told you that there still aren't any other rooms available. 

“Of course,” he sighs, sliding under the covers with the biggest possible distance from you.

You nod, closing your eyes and willing for sleep to take you, but it’s a losing game. You toss and turn, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time, unable to find a comfortable position and to get the voices in your head to shut up. 

When you roll over yet again, his voice rings through the dark, somewhat agitatedly asking what’s wrong. 

“Nothing,” comes your frustrated reply, pressing your face deeper into the cushion, your eyes squeezed shut. After a few more breaths and zero sign of your brain slowing down, you turn towards him, only able to make out his silhouette in the dark. Your judgment is probably hazy with how tired you are, but the words are out of your mouth before you can think them over.

“Can I ask you a question, Agent Peña?” 

“Javier is fine.” 

Your heart gives a tiny flutter, despite your conflicted feelings about him, despite the question that you’re about to ask. 

“Why do you not like me?” 

It’s inappropriate, especially right now, lying in the dark and sharing a fucking bed with him. But you think that if you don’t ask now, you probably never will, and you need to know. 

“Why would you think that I don’t like you?” 

You huff, squinting at him. “It’s pretty obvious. You don’t trust my work, you never send me to go out, dismiss my intel most of the time–” 

It’s silent for a long time, safe for his quiet breaths. 

“That’s not–” He sighs deeply, turning his head towards you as well. “That’s not true. You’re making it about yourself when you shouldn’t. I treat you exactly like your colleagues, you’re the one taking it personal.” 

It’s curt, dismissive. Laced with carefully feigned indifference, bordering on coldness. Too carefully. You didn’t think he’d lie to you if you asked him this directly, but here you are. 

Blinking back angry tears, you roll onto your back again, unseeingly staring at the ceiling. You don’t understand why it hits you like this. You’ve had shitty bosses before, far worse than Peña. You’ve just never wanted them to like you the way you want him to. 

“Good night, Agent Peña.” You turn onto your other side, your back towards him. 

“Good night,” comes his solemn reply. 

You don’t wake up with his arms around you again, thankfully, but he hasn’t exactly kept to his side of the bed either. One hand is curled over your shoulder, like he had to reach out and hold onto you in his sleep. 

You’re the one taking it personal. 

Clearly he hasn’t been reaching for you specifically. It’s probably just second nature for him, something that usually goes well with the women sharing his bed. 

You’re able to shake his hold off without waking him up, something that you’re grateful for. 

When he wakes and repeats how he thinks you should abandon the investigation, you don’t argue. It’s a quiet affair, packing up and getting ready to leave. 

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turns to you, his brow furrowed into that moody expression you’ve gotten used to. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins, eyeing you warily. “We’re not far from the ocean right now. Have you been to the beach since you came to Colombia?” 

You raise an eyebrow in mild suspicion, curious where he’s going with this. 

“I haven’t been out of Bogotá since I landed there. But–” 

His eyes grow softer, his hand twitching like he almost reached out towards you. 

“No buts. At least then it won’t have been a total waste of time to come here, right?” 

The dig towards you, towards the reason you drove all the way out here for nothing isn’t lost on you. You don’t have it in you to argue against it, so you just nod, staring straight ahead. 

Javier realizes how badly you misunderstood his words as soon as they’re out of his mouth and he sees your face. He doesn’t know how he consistently manages to fuck up his interactions with you like this. It’s not him, the blundering, the words constantly coming out all wrong, but you make him nervous in a way that he hasn’t experienced in years. 

He starts driving, hopeful to somehow still be able to turn this trip around. There’s a whole day on the road ahead of them, and he’d much rather spend those hours without feeling like he’s made you hate him. 

You do soften at the sight of the ocean, the sound of waves rolling against the shore having a soothing effect almost instantly. It’s beautiful, the water a brilliant blue, the sun glittering on the surface. You can’t be mad right now, not even at Javier, who’s keeping his distance, letting you wander along the shore by yourself. 

You focus on taking in the scenery, hoping to somehow take it with you to when you’re back in your bleak, government issued apartment, staring at the vastness of gray buildings that is of Bogotá. 

When you turn back to him, his eyes are already on you, less tense, more open than you’re used to. You don’t know how long they’ve been lingering on you, how little attention he had been paying to the nature surrounding you. How good it had felt, to see you like this, without the usual distaste in your face that you have come to regard him with most of the time. The silhouette of you against the bright sky, your skin glowing under the beaming sun. 

“Thank you,” you say, actually smiling at him. A spark of warmth grows in his chest. “This was a good idea, I– I enjoyed it.” 

“I’m glad.” He eagerly returns the smile, allows himself to reach out and graze one finger against the soft skin of your hand. Finding himself unable to stop touching you, now that he’s had a taste of it.

Confusion crosses your face before you quickly avert your eyes, but you don’t pull away. It gives him a sliver of hope, that maybe you’re starting to understand what he doesn’t know how to tell you. 

After a mostly quiet drive back, both of you too exhausted to talk much, Javier drops you off at your apartment, his hand once again hovering over yours before you get out. 

“Good night,” he breathes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. After a moment of hesitation, he continues on. “You– you’re doing good work. Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay?” 

You manage a nod, murmuring thank you, Javier before opening the car door and stepping out onto your street, illuminated by the glow of yellow lights. You only realize that you used his first name by the time that your apartment door falls shut behind you. It doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. 

Breathing in the familiar scent of your own place, a deep relief washes over you, reveling in the knowledge that you’re gonna sleep in your own bed tonight, alone. You turn on your shower, eager to let the warm water soothe your muscles, stiff from spending the entire day in a car. 

When you exit the bathroom, wrapped into a towel and with a cloud of steam accompanying you, your answering machine is blinking. You press the button to let the message play, moving through your apartment to put on your comfiest sleepwear and ready to fall straight into bed. 

You stop in your tracks when Javier’s voice rings through the room, tripping over the words in a way that’s difficult to associate with the calm, self-assured man that you know. 

“Hey, it’s Javier. You– you’re probably showering, or already asleep. I just– I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings these past days, or– or any day, really. I wanted you to know that. You’re good at what you do, you really are, but– I worry about you, I guess. And I know that I shouldn’t, that I shouldn’t treat you differently. It’s– it’s not because I don’t like you. I like you too much, if anything, and– and now I know what it’s like to sleep next to you, and– anyway, I’m– shit, I’m making a fool of myself. Just– just call me back. Please.”

Your hand finds your phone as soon as the recording ends.

thank you for reading! as always, reblogs, comments and asks are love and absolutely make my day <3

[lostfracturess]

REMEMBER ME IN SUMMER — SATORU GOJO

pairing — one night stand!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary — six months ago, you left satoru gojo's apartment before sunrise, thinking you'd never see him again. now, trapped in a beach house for a weekend with mutual friends, you're forced to face the man who doesn't seem to remember that night—or does he? between shared walls, heated touches, and games of pretend, you're starting to think maybe one night wasn't enough after all. but in a house full of friends, some things are better left in the past… right?

word count — 9.5 k

genre/tags — beach house AU, summer romance, one night stand to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, tension, awkward reunions, friends gathering, miscommunication, beach vibes, satoru is a little menace in this one

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, alcohol consumption, all characters aged up (mid 20s), language

author's note — hi everyone ! this fic came out of nowhere, and i literally wrote it in three days, but i really love the idea and the summer vibes in this one, even tho i wrote it while it was literally snowing outside, but somewhere on earth it's summer rn, so why not post it lol. hope you enjoy this mess of a summer romance story as much as i enjoyed writing it ! <3 (credit/art)

masterlist + support my writing

The last person you expected to see in Okinawa was Satoru Gojo.

Yet there he was, lounging on the deck of the beach house like he belonged there, white hair catching the sunlight as he laughed at something someone had said. Your heart tumbled over itself as memories of that night six months ago flooded back unbidden.

"You okay?" Maki nudged you with her elbow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

More like the ghost of past bad decisions. "I'm fine," you managed, gripping your weekend bag tighter. "Wasn't expecting so many people."

The beach house was supposed to be a simple weekend getaway with close friends. But somewhere between planning and execution, it had turned into a "friends of friends" situation to fill the eight-bedroom house Okkotsu's family had offered.

"Yeah, Yuta's cousin's boyfriend invited some people to fill the space," Maki explained, completely unaware of your internal crisis. "That's Satoru over there, by the way. He's actually pretty fun once you get past the whole—" She gestured vaguely at all of him.

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both. Because you were already very familiar with how "fun" Satoru Gojo could be.

Six months ago, you'd met him at a bar in Tokyo. He'd been charming and gorgeous, all easy smiles and playful banter. One drink had turned into several, flirting had turned into kissing, and kissing had turned into...

Well.

You'd slipped out of his apartment before dawn, leaving nothing but a lipstick stain on his collar and a dip in his pillow. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. You weren't looking for anything serious, and someone like him definitely wasn't the settling down type.

Now, watching him chat lively with your friends like the universe's cruelest joke, you wondered if you should have at least left your number.

"Girl," Maki waved her hand in front of your face. "You sure you're okay?"

Before you could answer, Satoru looked up. His eyes met yours across the deck, and for a moment, your heart stopped. 

But there was no recognition in those sea blue eyes. No hint that he remembered the way you'd gasped his name in the dark, the way his hands had traced every inch of your skin, the way he'd whispered "stay" against your shoulder just before you'd fallen asleep.

He just smiled politely, the same smile he’s probably giving everyone else too, and went back to his conversation.

Right. Of course he didn't remember. You were probably just one in a long line of one-night stands for someone like him. The thought shouldn't hurt as much as it did.

"Come on," Maki said, tugging you towards the house. "Let's get settled in before the others arrive.”

Up close, the beach house was even more impressive. A sprawling three-story mansion of white stone and floor-to-ceiling windows that caught the afternoon light like rippling water, a wraparound veranda with a cozy sitting area led to a private path down to the beach, lined with swaying palms and colourful flowers.

Inside, the house opened into a huge room with soaring ceilings and an open floor plan that made the space feel endless. Ocean views followed you everywhere through the massive windows, and the whole place smelled of salt and lemon.

"The bedrooms are upstairs," Maki said as she led you up a floating staircase. "Most of them are on the second floor, but there are two master bedrooms on the third."

The universe, it seemed, had a twisted sense of humor. Not only did you have to spend the weekend pretending you didn’t know how Satoru's brows draw together when he'd cum, but your room ended up right next to his—the two largest bedrooms on the top floor, sharing a wall and a connecting balcony. Of course.

Your room was bigger than your entire apartment in Tokyo, with a king-size bed draped in soft white linens. One wall was entirely glass, offering an unobstructed view of the ocean, while the other walls were decorated with pictures and minimalist art.

"My god, the view’s amazing!" Maki gushed and threw open the balcony doors. The sound of waves immediately filled the room, along with fresh, salty ocean air. "You can see the whole beach from here." 

But you were too busy staring at the wall next to you, where a door that must lead to Satoru's room was hidden behind a cupboard. You could hear muffled movement from his room, the sound of his laugh drifting through the wall that suddenly felt far too thin and your mind helpfully supplied memories of other sounds he could make, and you wondered if it was too late to fake some sudden illness and go home.

"Yeah," you said, dropping onto the edge of the bed. "Amazing."

Maki flopped down beside you, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. "I know I've been here like five times already with Yuta, but it never gets old." She rolled onto her stomach and rested her chin on her hands. "Usually it's just us and his family, maybe a few cousins. This is the first time we're doing a friend group thing."

You tried to focus on her words instead of the sound of suitcases being wheeled into the room next door. "How long have you and Yuta been coming here?"

"Since we started dating three years ago. His family does this whole summer tradition thing." She smiled. "First time I came, I was so nervous I barely left the room. Now it feels like a second home." She sat up, crossing her legs. “And since his parents said we could use it this weekend, we thought why not invite friends.”

Through the wall, you could hear male voices chatting and laughing, followed by the sound of a door sliding open. Probably the balcony doors. Your shared balcony. Where he could walk past your windows at any time.

“You’re okay with this, right? Yuta’s friends are actually really fun once you get to know them. Especially Satoru, even tho he can be a pain in the ass.” Your stupid heart tumbled over itself once more at his name. "And single, if you're interested. I could—"

"No!" The word came out louder than intended, and you heard the conversation next door pause briefly. Lowering your voice, you added, "I mean, no thanks. Not really looking for anything right now."

Maki gave you a strange look. "You sure you're okay? You've been weird since we got here."

"Just tired from the drive," you lied and stood up. "Maybe I'll take a quick shower before everyone else arrives."

"Okay..." She didn't sound convinced but got up anyway. "I should go find Yuta anyway, make sure he's not letting Satoru destroy any of Yuta's mum's favourite vases."

You waited until she left before falling with your face first onto the bed with a groan. Perfect. Not only did you have to spend the weekend next door to your one night stand who might or might not remember you, but now your best friend was trying to set you up with him.

Through the wall, you heard Satoru laugh at something, the sound familiar enough to make your chest ache. 

It was going to be a very long weekend.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 

You'd barely finished unpacking when Yuji burst into your room without knocking. "Hey! We're setting up a net for beach volleyball. You in?"

"Ah, I don't really—"

"Everyone's playing!" He was already on his way back to the door. "Even Megumi, and you know how he is about fun."

Before you could form a proper excuse, Maki appeared behind him. "Come on, it'll be fun, the sun is out and it’s better than hiding up here all afternoon."

And that's how you found yourself trudging down to the beach, trying to convince yourself this was fine. Totally fine. Just a fun game of volleyball with friends. Nothing to worry about.

But then the boys started stripping off their shirts. It was like watching some ridiculous scene out of Top Gun as they all shed their shirt in the afternoon heat. But it was Satoru who made your brain go silent completely. 

He pulled his shirt off, and suddenly you were having vivid flashbacks to exactly how that toned chest felt under your hands. The sun caught his hair like a halo, and when he stretched his arms over his head, the muscles in his back shifted in ways that should not make your knees so weak, but here you were, rooted to the spot, your pulse racing as if it had a mind of its own.

"You're staring," Maki whispered next to you.

"I'm not," you said, even though you definitely were. How could you not? It was like someone had taken every beach volleyball scene from every summer movie ever and combined them into one ridiculous moment.

Teams were forming, and with an uneven number, you volunteered to sit this round out. Not that you were particularly eager to participate in the first place. You were perfectly happy watching from the safety of your beach towel, where the risk of accidentally brushing against Satoru's unnecessarily perfect body was thankfully minimized.

The game started, and it quickly became clear that everyone was taking it way too seriously, as Satoru and Yuji seemed to be in some sort of competition to see who could spike the ball more impressively. 

"Show off," you muttered to yourself as Satoru delivered a rather dramatic jump serve, the ball landing dangerously close to your foot. But he must have heard you, because he caught your eye with a wink that made your stomach flutter. "Like what you see?"

"I've seen better," you said before you could stop yourself.

His eyebrows shot up and a slow smile spread across his face. "Have you now?"

Oh god. Were you flirting? This was definitely flirting. You needed to stop staring at the way sweat was making his skin glisten and focus on... literally anything else.

"Pay attention!" Nobara yelled, and Satoru barely managed to dodge the ball she'd spiked directly at his head.

The game continued, growing more competitive with each round. You had to admit, it was entertaining watching your friends become more and more dramatic with each point. One of Yuta’s cousins and Yuji had some sort of rivalry going on, while Maki and Nobara were trash-talking each other.

But it was Satoru who kept drawing your attention. The way he moved was almost unfair and you found yourself following the drops of sweat as they made their way down his neck, remembering how that skin had tasted under your tongue.

"Incoming!"

You looked up just in time to see the volleyball heading straight for your face. Before you could react, Satoru dove in front of you and caught the ball just inches from your nose. The movement sent him sprawling across your legs, his face entirely too close to yours.

You blinked at him for a few moments, then whispered, "Thank you.” But the words came out too soft, almost like they had that night in Tokyo when he'd helped you into a taxi and then convinced you not to take it and instead come home with him.

Time seemed to slow, the crashing waves and voices of the others fading into white noise as Satoru's eyes met yours. For a moment, something flickered in those blue depths—a flash of recognition, perhaps even remembrance. 

His breath caught, barely noticeable, and his hand on your leg tightened ever so slightly. You watched his eyes, saw the exact moment his gaze dropped to your lips, and suddenly you were back in that Tokyo bar, both of you caught in that same magnetic pull.

"You're welcome," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it. There was something in his tone, a hint of question, like he was trying to place a hazy dream. His thumb brushed against your skin, possibly by accident, possibly not, sending shivers up your spine.

The moment stretched, taut as a bowstring, thick with shared memories—memories you weren't even sure he had. Then someone yelled "Dinner!" from the direction of the house, and the spell broke.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The sun was setting by the time everyone had showered and gathered around the huge dining table on the deck. Fairy lights twinkled overhead and the sound of the waves could be heard in the background as the chaos of fifteen people trying to organize a meal unfolded.

You'd taken extra care getting ready, telling yourself it was just because of the salt and sand, not because of the way Satoru had looked at you on the beach. You'd chosen a light summer dress that happened to be the exact shade of blue as his eyes—pure coincidence, of course—and had let your hair dry naturally in the sea breeze.

Yuta ended up ordering way too much from the local seafood restaurant, you concluded as you surveyed the spread of food on the table. 

You ended up squeezed between Maki and Megumi, which should have been a relief. Instead, you found yourself very aware of Satoru sitting directly across from you, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, wearing a loose white linen shirt that he should really button up and stop teasing the entire table with glimpses of his toned chest.

"Pass the crab?" he asked, and when you handed him the plate, your fingers brushed. The contact sent a shiver through you, and you could have sworn you saw his breath catch. But then he was turning to laugh at something Yuji said, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined the whole thing.

"—and then he just fell face first right into the sand!" Yuji was saying, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks. "You should have seen it!"

"We were all there, literally two hours ago," Megumi deadpanned.

"The game was rigged anyway," Nobara said, reaching for another plate of grilled shrimp. "You can't put Mr. Perfect over here on a team and expect it to be fair." She jerked her thumb in Satoru's direction.

"What can you do?" Satoru said, his eyebrows knitted together, but a grin played on his lips. "I just happen to be naturally gifted." And then his eyes caught yours once more across the table. 

Heat crept up the back of your neck as you remembered how he'd felt when he'd sprawled across your legs, his skin sun warm and slightly sandy. How his touch had lingered just a fraction too long to be casual. 

Something had changed in his expression, so subtle that anyone else might have missed it. But you'd spent hours that night memorizing his faces. His smirk when he had you right on the edge, his soft smile when you were trembling beneath him, the way his eyes darkened just before he—

Maki snorted. "Yeah, sure." And you looked over at her, breaking the eye contact before you could do something stupid like climb across the table and find out if he tasted as good as you remembered.

When the dinner was over, Nobara suggested to play drinking games, truth or dare to be specific, to which "What are we, fifteen?" Megumi commented but Maki already chimed in with "Never have I ever" and so it was decided.

Your stomach dropped. The last thing you needed was a drinking game where people confessed their secrets. Especially with the way Satoru kept looking at you, like he was one memory away from connecting dots you really didn't want connected.

"I think I'll pass," you said, pushing your plate away. "The sun really did take it out of me."

You gathered your plates and the sound of the others setting up their drinking game followed you into the kitchen—Yuji's voice carrying over everyone else's as he argued about rules, Nobara shouting something about "no questions about exes," and Megumi's long drawn out sighs.

A salty ocean breeze swept into the kitchen through the open wall of windows overlooking the water as you rinsed your plate. "You know," a voice came from behind you, making you jump, "I was starting to think you hate me."

Your heart skipped a beat. You didn't need to turn around to know it was Satoru—would recognize that voice anywhere, had spent months trying to forget how it sounded when it was rough after he’d cum. But you turned anyway, finding him leaning against the doorframe and the kitchen suddenly felt so much smaller. 

"What?" The word came out embarrassingly breathless.

"Let me rephrase, for someone who doesn't hate me, you're doing an impressive job of avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you.” You turned back to the sink. "I'm doing dishes."

"Sure. The dishes." His voice got closer, and you could feel the heat of him just behind you. "Though I have to wonder why someone would work so hard to avoid someone they've never met before."

Your hands stilled under the running water. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You've barely looked at me all day." He was close enough now that you could smell his perfume that had lingered on your clothes for days after that night. "Want to tell me what I did to deserve the cold shoulder? Because usually, I at least remember if I've pissed someone off."

Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it, but at the same time the irony of his words made you want to laugh. "You haven't done anything," you said, which was technically true. He hadn't done anything wrong. Except maybe be too good in bed and then forget about it entirely.

"No?" His voice dropped lower, and you could feel his breath on your neck. "Then why—" He cut himself off. "Wait. Have we met before?"

You spun around, hands dripping water onto the floor. The motion brought you chest to chest with him, trapped between his body and the counter. "No," you said, too quickly, way too quickly. "Definitely not."

"You sure about that? Because you seem familiar—"

"Must just have one of those faces."

He moved closer still, one hand braced on the counter beside your hip, effectively caging you in. "Is that so? Because I’m sure I’d remember a pretty one like yours." You felt your breath catch in your throat, every nerve in your body screaming. He was going to kiss you, wasn't he? You should probably do something. Like move. Or breathe.

But then he simply stepped back, his smile widening. "Sorry. Must have mistaken you for someone else,” he said and the loss of his warmth felt like whiplash, leaving you cold despite the summer heat that still lingered in the air. You watched him retreat towards the door, casual as anything, like he hadn't just turned your world sideways.

Through the open door, laughter spilled in from the deck, breaking the spell that had held you captive. Satoru paused in the doorway for a moment, silhouetted against the warm light from outside, before disappearing back into the noise of your friends.

You stayed at the sink, trying to convince yourself that the heat in your cheeks was just from the summer air and ignoring the way your heart refused to settle in your chest. What had just happened? You had no idea. But one thing was painfully certain.

This weekend was going to be a long one.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Next morning, you decided to get up early and have your coffee on the beach before anyone else was awake. Sleep had been hard to come by anyway, with too many thoughts of certain one night stands keeping your mind racing. 

Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon, painting the sky in orange and gold watercolours and the ocean stretched out before you, quiet and calm, each small wave catching the early light like diamonds.

You'd wrapped yourself in an oversized cardigan against the morning chill, bare feet buried in sand that was still cool from the night before. And of course, because the universe hated you, that's when Satoru appeared.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, settling into the sand beside you without invitation.

You clutched your coffee mug tighter. "Something like that."

"Yeah, me neither." He stretched his long legs out in front of him, and you definitely didn't notice how his shorts rode up slightly, definitely weren't thinking about how those thighs had felt under your hands. "Keep having these weird dreams."

"Oh?"

"Mmm." As he turned to look at you, the rising sun painted his profile gold, catching his eyelashes. There was something different about him in this light — softer somehow, more like the man who'd asked you to stay than the one who'd cornered you in the kitchen last night. "About a girl in a black dress. Red lipstick. The most amazing laugh I've ever heard."

Your heart stopped.

"Funny thing is," he continued casually, "I can never quite see her face in the dreams. But I remember how she tasted. How she felt pinned beneath me. How she clenching around my fingers. How she said my name when she—"

"Stop," you whispered.

"Why?" His voice was softer now. "Because you don't want to talk about that night? Or because you thought I wouldn't remember?"

You stared at the ocean, unable to meet his gaze. "You didn't seem to yesterday."

"Don’t be stupid. I recognized you the moment you walked into the beach house."

Your coffee nearly slipped from your hands. "What?"

"Did you really think I wouldn't remember the girl who stole my favourite shirt on her way out the door?"

Heat flooded your cheeks, you totally forgotten about the shirt. "Then yesterday, in the kitchen—"

"I wanted to see how long you'd keep pretending." He smiled, the bastard had the audacity to smile at you when he revealed that he was playing you the whole time. "You're cute when you're nervous, you know that?”

"You're mocking me."

"Mocking you?" His eyebrows rose. Then he leaned closer to you, but you still refused to look at him. "I spent six months trying to find the girl with the kind of laugh that makes you feel drunk just hearing it, who left before I could ask for her number—" 

"It was just one night," you interrupted.

"Was it? Because I distinctly remember asking you to stay."

"I couldn't."

"Couldn't? Or wouldn't?"

You finally met his gaze fully, and immediately wished you hadn't. Because he was looking at you the same way he had that night. He was enjoying this, wasn't he? Playing with you, teasing you, making you feel like a flustered schoolgirl. 

"Does it matter?" you asked.

"You're really a bit slow, aren't you?"

You wanted to protest, to tell him exactly what you thought of his arrogant everything, but then Maki's voice carried across the beach, "Breakfast! Come and get it before Yuji eats everything!"

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The breakfast table was just as chaotic as the dinner the night before. Fifteen people crammed around the table had that effect, especially with Yuji already piling his plate high with pancakes while Nobara complained about him taking too many. 

You'd barely settled into an empty chair when Satoru slid into the seat next to you, as if he hadn't just admitted that he'd been playing jokes on you the whole day before. 

"Can you pass me the syrup?" he asked innocently, but there was nothing innocent about the way his thigh pressed against yours under the table. 

You handed him the bottle without looking at him, trying to focus on pouring your coffee without spilling it everywhere. Which was made all the more difficult when his hand found your knee under the table.

"So what's everyone's plans for today?" Maki asked, passing around a plate of fresh fruit.

You tried to concentrate on the conversation, you really did. But Satoru's hand was inching higher up your thigh, and your brain was shorted out. You kicked him under the table, aiming for his shin.

He didn't even flinch, just smiled wider and continued whatever conversation he was having with Megumi about later activities, all while his fingers danced along the hem of your shorts. You felt a sudden surge of heat, definitely not from the summer sun.

"You okay?" Nobara asked suddenly. "You look a bit flushed."

"Fine!" Your voice came out higher than intended as Satoru's fingers skimmed just slightly under the edge of your shorts. "Just... hot."

"It is pretty warm this morning," Satoru agreed, his tone perfectly pleasant even as his thumb pressed into that sensitive spot on your inner thigh that he somehow remembered. The bastard. You kicked him again, harder this time.

"Did someone just kick the table?" Maki looked around suspiciously.

"Must have been the wind," you said stupidly.

You grabbed his wrist under the table, intending to push his hand away, but he just interlaced his fingers with yours and kept them there on your thigh. It was like he was asserting dominance, staking his claim, and you were suddenly trapped.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked through a mouthful of pancakes. "You're acting weird."

"Totally fine," you managed. "Just didn't sleep well."

"Hmm, me neither," Satoru chimed in, his voice all false innocence. "Must be all these weird dreams I keep having." You dug your nails into his hand in warning, but he just squeezed your hand in response, his grip tightening.

"Dreams?" Nobara asked.

"Oh, you know," Satoru began thoughtfully, "the kind that keep you up all night, thinking about... things that got away."

You were going to murder him. Slowly. Possibly with the butter knife you were currently gripping way too tight.

"That's... weirdly poetic for you," Maki said, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't want to know,” he replied, and you felt his fingers inch just slightly higher once more, making you jump and bang your knee on the table.

"Jesus, what is wrong with you two this morning?" Nobara asked, looking between you and Satoru.

Under the table, you finally managed to grab his hand in yours and hold it still. But that backfired when he started playing with your fingers instead, his thumb brushing across your knuckles in a way that made you gasp. You definitely wanted to kill him. Right after you figured out how to breathe normally again.

"So, beach day? I wanna go snorkelling," Yuji said, thankfully drawing attention away from whatever was going on under the table, and everyone agreed. JJust then, Satoru freed his hand from yours and placed it back on your knee before trailing it up your thigh. 

Okay, nope this had to end now.

"I need more coffee," you announced abruptly, standing up so fast your chair scraped against the deck.

"I'll help," Satoru offered, already rising.

"No!" The word came out too sharp, making everyone look at you strangely. "I mean, I'm good. Thanks."

You practically fled into the kitchen, your skin still tingling where he'd touched you. Through the window, you could see him chatting with the others, looking completely unaffected while you were here trying to remember how to make your heart beat normally.

When is this weekend going to end?

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

"You sure you're okay?" Maki asked, swimming up beside you. "You've been weird all morning. Is the sun too much?"

"I'm fine," you said for what felt like the hundredth time today. "I’m not used to be around so many people."

The water was crystal clear, stretching out in various shades of blue that seemed to go on forever. Everyone had eagerly jumped into snorkeling, with Yuji and Nobara already in a heated competition about who could spot the most fish.

You adjusted your mask for the tenth time, trying to focus on anything except how good Satoru looked in just swim shorts. He was a few meters away, the sunlight catching the droplets of water that clung to his ridiculously toned shoulders.

My God. You needed distance. You needed space to breathe, to think, to do anything other than stare at him.

"If you say so." Maki didn't look convinced. "But tell me if something’s bothering you, okay?"

If only she knew. "Sure."

"Guys, come look at this!" Yuji called from where he was floating near some corals. "Rainbow fish!" 

Everyone swam over to where he was pointing, and you had to admit, the sight was beautiful. Countless colourful fish swam through the coral, creating a vibrant palette under the water.

You followed the fish as a sudden pressure against your calf made you flinch. Satoru. He had brushed against your leg. It could have been an accident, a mere consequence of the crowded water, but somehow, it felt like anything but. You knew better. Nothing about Satoru was ever accidental.

You drifted slightly away from the group, desperately needing to put some distance between yourself and Satoru. The vibrant corals blurred into streaks of colour as you swam further from the group, the shouts of Yuji and Nobara fading.

The water a bit away from them was deeper, a darker shade of blue. As you peered down, you noticed the sandy ground was dotted with small stones, and a different kind of life seemed to thrive here. Sea anemones swayed gently in the current, and schools of silver fish, smaller than the ones near the reef, darted in and out of the anemones.

You floated on your back for a moment, gazing up at the sky, a vast expanse of pale blue flecked with fluffy white clouds as the sun warmed your face. It was so peaceful, and you were happy for the small pause amidst the chaos of the house.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

You startled at Satoru's voice right behind you, nearly inhaling water through your snorkel. He'd somehow managed to swim up without you noticing, and now he was close enough that his arm brushed yours in the water.

"What are you doing?" you hissed, pulling your snorkel out.

"I know a better spot.” He nodded towards a more secluded area around the curve of the beach. "If you're interested."

You glanced back at the others, but they were all absorbed in whatever Yuji had found. "I don't think—"

"Come on," he said, already swimming away. "Don't you trust me?"

"Not even a little bit." But found yourself following him anyway.

He led you around a small outcropping of rocks, the current tugging gently at your fins, to a quieter part of the reef. His hand on your arm gently guided you through the water. The water here was somehow even clearer, as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a breathtaking underwater scenery with colourful coral formations that created a labyrinth of archways and caverns with small fish swimming in between.

"How did you—"

"I came here earlier this morning," he said, treading water close to you. "While you were pretending to ignore me after breakfast."

"I wasn't—" You cut yourself off as he dove under the surface, the sunlight playing across his back as he swam deeper.

You followed him down, your breath taken away by the sight. This part of the reef was like something out of a documentary. Swarms of tropical fish swirled around you in ribbons of colour, and the coral itself seemed to shine in the filtered sunlight.

When you surfaced, Satoru was watching you with an annoyingly knowing smile. "Worth following me?"

"It's alright," you said, trying to sound unimpressed even though you were anything but.

He laughed. "You're still trying to play hard to get?"

"I'm not playing anything."

"No?" He swam closer, close enough that you could see droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes. "Then why did you follow me here?"

"To see the fish.”

"The fish." His voice was amused. "Sure. That's why you've been watching me all morning?"

"I have not—"

"You know," he cut you off, moving even closer, his body brushing against yours in the water. "You're pretty when you get all flustered. Just like that night in Tokyo. Same flush you had when I made you cum three times.”

Ha? Had he been keeping count or what? You frantically tried to replay that night in your head — there was the first time against his apartment door, then on the kitchen counter, and... oh god, he was right. The bastard had been counting. The smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what you were thinking about.

You splashed water at him. "We are not talking about Tokyo."

He wiped water from his face, grinning. "No? Should we talk about this morning instead? About how you nearly jumped out of your skin when I touched your—"

You dunked him mid-sentence.

He came up spluttering, pushing wet hair from his eyes. "Okay, I probably deserved that."

"You definitely deserved that."

But he laughed, and despite yourself, you found yourself laughing too. There was something infectious about him, something that made it hard to keep your walls up, dissolving your defenses with unnerving ease, like mist beneath the morning sun.

"We should head back," you said finally. "Before they come looking for us."

"Probably," he agreed, but made no move to leave. Instead, he floated closer, until his chest pressed against yours. "Or we could stay here a bit longer. I could remind you of all the other ways I can make you wet."

Heat flooded your body. "Satoru..."

"Yes?" His hands found your waist under the water, pulling you flush against him. One thigh slipped between yours, and you had to bite back a gasp at the friction. "You know, I still remember exactly how you sound when you're trying not to moan my name."

"We can't." But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch as his fingers skimmed along your ribs, dangerously close to your breast.

"Can't?" His lips ghosted over your lips, his thumb tracing circles on your hip under the water in a way that made you think of how those fingers had felt inside you. "Or are you afraid you won't be able to keep quiet this time?"

Before you could answer, Nobara's voice carried across the water. "Where did you guys go?"

You pushed away from him quickly, already swimming back towards the group. "Coming!"

"This isn't over," he called after you, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"It never started!" you shot back, but you were smiling too.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Satoru spent the rest of the afternoon driving you absolutely insane.

After snorkeling, he'd positioned his beach towel suspiciously close to yours, spending an unnecessary amount of time applying sunscreen to his chest and arms. His movements were deliberately slow, borderline pornographic, fingers sliding over muscle in a way that had you remembering exactly how those muscles had felt flexing under your tongue. 

You knew without a doubt he was putting on a show for you—every movement a reminder of how those arms had looked braced above you as he'd fucked you against his apartment door, how they'd felt pinning your wrists to his sheets.

During lunch, he'd somehow ended up next to you again, his bare thigh pressed hot against yours under the table like this morning had taught him nothing. Except this time, his hand didn't just rest on your knee. It spent the entire meal tracing patterns up your thigh, fingertips dancing dangerous close to where you'd been aching for him.

Your breath caught every time his hand "accidentally" slipped under the hem of your shorts, remembering how those fingers had curled inside you, how they'd made you beg.

The afternoon beach volleyball rematch was even worse. He kept finding excuses to touch you—steadying you with a hand on your waist when you stumbled in the sand (the same way he'd gripped your hips while taking you from behind), reaching around you to grab the ball (his breath hot on your neck like when he'd whispered how good you felt around him), his chest pressing against your back, closer than needed (making you remember how it felt to be pressed between him and that apartment door).

But dinner? Dinner was pure torture.

He'd shown up freshly showered, hair still damp and tousled in that way that made your fingers itch to grab it (like you had when he was between your thighs), wearing a dark blue linen shirt that he hadn't bothered to button properly once more and spent the entire meal finding new ways to make you squirm.

He'd catch your eye across the table and slowly lick sauce off his thumb, making you remember exactly how that tongue had felt when he'd spread you open. When passing dishes, his fingers would brush against yours unnecessarily long, making you shiver. At one point, he'd stretched his arms above his head, his shirt riding up to reveal his lower abs that had you gripping your fork so hard your knuckles turned white.

He knew exactly what he was doing, too—you could tell by the smug look on his face throughout the whole dinner. 

Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice anything amiss. They were all too busy with their own conversations, completely oblivious to the way he was systematically dismantling your sanity with nothing more than glances and touches.

Every time you thought you'd gotten yourself under control, he'd do something else — run his fingers through his hair the same way he had when you'd been on your knees in front of him, or bite his lip in a way that had you crossing your legs under the table. By dessert, you were a mess of sexual frustration and murderous impulses. 

He was enjoying this, the bastard. Testing your control, seeing how far he could push before you broke. And the most infuriating part? 

It was working. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

After dinner, everyone wandered into the living room in various states of food induced laziness. You'd barely managed to claim a corner of the big couch when Nobara disappeared into the kitchen, returning with an armful of wine bottles and a certain look in her eye that spelled trouble.

"No one move," she announced, setting the bottles on the coffee table. "I have an idea."

"Your ideas usually end with someone crying," Megumi commented from his spot on the floor.

"Or arrested," Maki added helpfully.

"Or both," you muttered, trying to ignore how Satoru had somehow appeared in the armchair closest to your corner of the couch. He'd rolled up his sleeves during dinner, forearms on full display, and you were having a hard time not staring at his fingers. Fingers that you knew from experience felt so good in your mouth to keep you from—

"Never have I ever!" Nobara's voice cut through your dangerous train of thought. A collective groan rose from the group.

"Not again," Megumi said, already trying to get up.

"Sit your ass down," Nobara commanded, pushing him back down. "We're bonding."

"We bonded plenty last night," you Yuta tried, but Nobara was having none of it and before you knew it, everyone agreed.

"Okay, I'll start easy," Yuji said, clearly excited despite his earlier protests. "Never have I ever cheated on a test."

Several people drank, including Satoru—and you, okay let’s be real. 

The questions started innocent enough. Never have I ever broken a bone. Never have I ever been arrested. Never have I ever dyed my hair. But as the wine flowed, the questions got progressively more suggestive.

"Never have I ever kissed someone of the same gender," Maki said, and half the circle drank. "Never have I ever faked it," was Nobara's contribution, and several people groaned but drank.

You were starting to feel a bit hazy, the wine making everything feel warm and soft around the edges. Which was dangerous, because Satoru kept looking at you like he was remembering exactly how you'd sounded that night when you definitely hadn't been faking anything.

"Never have I ever," one of Yuta’s cousins announced then, "had sex with someone in this room." For a moment, no one moved. Then Yuta and Maki drank, of course. And then Satoru raised his own glass slowly and took a long sip.

"Who?" Nobara shrieked, looking around the circle. "Satoru just drank, so someone else here has to—" Her gaze swept over everyone suspiciously.

"Someone's lying," Maki sang, already tipsy enough to find this hilarious. "Come on, fess up!"

You kept your face carefully neutral, even as you felt Satoru's eyes burning into you. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Not this time.

"Maybe it was before any of us knew each other," Yuji suggested, but Nobara shook her head.

"No way. Look at his face!" She pointed accusingly at Satoru. "He's got that look. You know, that 'I know something you don't know' look."

Satoru just smiled lazily from his armchair, swirling the wine in his glass. "Maybe I just like keeping you all guessing."

"You're a dumbass," Nobara said, but the group's attention was already shifting as Yuji launched into the next question, something about falling asleep at work.

You released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding, but made the mistake of glancing at Satoru and he gave you a look that sent a shiver of heat through you over his wine glass. 

God, you were going to murder him. Slowly. Painfully. Preferably with the very wine glass he was currently smirking into. 

Who did he think he was, just casually drinking like that, nearly exposing everything? He could have at least warned you, given you some sign he was about to blow up your secret. But no, he'd just taken that deliberate sip, probably getting hard on watching you squirm as you tried to keep your poker face. 

That sick bastard.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Sleep was impossible. You'd been tossing and turning for hours, replaying the day's events in your mind—from that moment in the ocean to his deliberate almost-reveal during the game. The walls of this fancy beach house seemed paper thin at night, every small sound amplified in the darkness.

That's how you heard his door open around 2 AM, followed by quiet footsteps heading downstairs.

You waited a few minutes, telling yourself you were just thirsty, that going downstairs for water had nothing to do with knowing he was maybe down there. The wooden steps creaked softly under your bare feet as you made your way down.

Silvery moonlight streamed through the massive windows, creating silver patterns on the marble countertops of the kitchen. Satoru stood at the island, drinking water from a glass, looking unfairly handsome in just sleep shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt.

"Couldn't sleep?" he whispered when he spotted you.

"What's your game, Satoru?" You kept your voice equally low, padding closer. "That thing earlier? During never have I ever?"

"Game? I'm not the one who was afraid of drinking".

"Because unlike you, I don't feel the need to announce our business to everyone."

He set his glass down, turning to face you fully. "Our business? So you admit there's something to announce?"

"That's not—" You caught yourself before your voice could rise. "What are you trying to achieve here? With all the—" you gestured vaguely, "touching and teasing and almost exposing everything?"

He stepped closer, and suddenly the kitchen felt way too small, even though it was like three times the size of your Tokyo apartment. "Maybe I just want everyone to know that night wasn't as casual for me as you seem to think it was."

You felt the weight of his words settle in the quiet kitchen, heavy with meaning you weren't prepared to unpack while moonlight caught his features in a way that made him look softer, almost vulnerable.

"What are you talking about? It was only one night."

"Was it?" He moved closer, until you had to tilt your head back to keep eye contact. "Because I remember asking you to stay. I remember waking up to an empty bed and spent the next six months thinking about why you left."

"I... you were just saying that in the moment. People say lots of things in the moment."

"Do they?" His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face. "Is that why you ran? Because you thought I didn't mean it?"

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore how your skin prickled where he'd touched you. "Satoru..."

"You know what I think?" His voice dropped even lower, barely a whisper in the quiet kitchen. "I think you're scared. Not of me, but of the fact that you wanted to stay too."

"That's not—" But the words died in your throat as his thumb traced your jawline.

"Then why are you down here?" He was close enough now that you could feel the heat of his body against yours. "If it was just one night, just something casual, why did you follow me down here in the middle of the night?"

The counter pressed against your back—when had you started backing up?—and Satoru's arms came to rest on either side of you, caging you in. Position achingly familiar, reminding you of how this all started six months ago.

"I was thirsty," you said. You did not even believe yourself as you said it.

His laugh was barely a breath against your skin. "Liar."

And then his mouth was on yours, and god, you'd forgotten how good he was at this. His lips were soft but demanding, one hand sliding into your hair while the other gripped your hip, forcing you close against him. You gasped into the kiss, and he took the opportunity to deepen it, his tongue against yours in a way that made you forget your own name.

It was different from that first night—less urgent, but somehow more intense. He kissed you like he was trying to prove a point, like he was laying claim to every moment you'd denied him these past six months. His teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite back a whimper, too aware of the sleeping house above.

"Still want to pretend this is nothing?" he whispered against your mouth, and you could feel his smile when your only response was to pull him back down for another kiss.

His hands slid down to grip your thighs, lifting you onto the counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer as his mouth moved to your neck, kissing your throat just the way you like it, just the way he somehow remembered.

"Someone could come down," you breathed, even as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"Then I guess you'll have to be quiet." His teeth grazed your skin, making you shiver. "Think you can manage that? Because I distinctly remember you being quite vocal last time."

You tightened your grip on his hair in return, but that just made him groan softly against your throat. "You're stupid."

"Mm, that's not what you said in Tokyo." His hands slid higher under your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. "In fact, I remember you saying some very different things—"

You cut him off with another kiss, partly to shut him up and partly because you needed his mouth on yours like you needed air. His fingers teased along your ribs, your back, your thighs, touching you everywhere except where you desperately wanted him to.

But then his fingers found the edge of your underwear, and you had to bite his shoulder to keep from moaning as he slid his fingers inside you, making you cum all over his fingers in seconds—just like that night in Tokyo.

You were done, dizzy, breathless, clinging to him as he stripped your shorts and underwear down your legs. He pushed one leg up your chest as he lowered you back down onto the marble kitchen counter, your other leg still wrapped around his waist. His forehead pressed against yours as he thrust inside, hard, slow, perfect angle—just like that night in Tokyo.

He tossed you around, manhandled you, fucked you against the fridge, threw you onto the couch and fucked you there too. He whispered your name, his voice husky against your ear, every letter a caress, even as he picked up pace, even as his hand closed around your throat, even as you bit into the pillow below to muffle your screams as he made you cum again. Multiple times. In various positions. Using his own cum as a lube for the next round—just like that night in Tokyo.

Afterwards you laid outside on the veranda in a big chair you both shared, gazing up at the stars scattered across the deep velvet sky, countless and impossibly bright. A second later his lips found yours and another second later you were on top of him, underwear pushed to the side and your head thrown back as he watched you chase your release on his dick—just like that night in Tokyo.

And his hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he ate you out on the stairs just before you wanted to go back to bed, but he wouldn't let you, making you cum again before he carried you off to the laundry room to fuck you one last time for sure good mesure—just like that night in Tokyo.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

Morning came way too early, sunlight streaming through windows you'd forgotten to close. Every muscle in your body ached in the most pleasant way, reminding you of exactly how many surfaces you and Satoru had christened last night. 

Yeah. You were definitely going to be feeling this for days. You winced slightly as you sat up — apparently kitchen counters weren't the most ergonomic choice for certain activities, or the stairs, or the laundry room, or... Okay, we get it.

When you finally made it downstairs, moving perhaps a bit more strangely than usual, Satoru was already at the breakfast table. Because of course he was, looking absolutely perfect and fullyfull rested in a fresh shirt, casually sipping his coffee like he hadn't spent half the night making you bite down on your fist to keep quiet.

"Well, someone looks rough," Nobara commented as you lowered yourself carefully into a chair. "Too much wine last night?"

You caught Satoru hiding a smirk behind his coffee cup. The bastard didn't even have the decency to look tired.

"Something like that," you muttered, reaching for the coffee pot and trying not to wince at the stretch. Your thighs burned in protest of the movement, and you could swear you saw Satoru's smile widening at your slight grimace.

"Must have been some wine," Nobara said, eyeing you suspiciously. "I don't remember you drinking that much during the game."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Yuji asked, looking concerned. "You're walking kind of funny."

"I'm fine, really," you managed. "Too much wine, that’s all."

Maki, who sat next to you, leaned in closer. "Your 'too much wine' is showing," she whispered, pointing to your collarbone. Your hand flew to your neck, suddenly remembering all the attention Satoru had paid to that area—especially that moment on the stairs when you'd begged him to finish what he'd started before anyone heard them, while he sucked a very dark bruise right above your collarbone.

You quickly buttoned up your cotton shirt higher, but from Nobara's growing grin, it was too late. But thankfully, no one commented on it.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟  

The rest of Sunday passed in a lazy haze, with everyone moving a bit slower thanks to varying degrees of wine headaches. Most of the day was spent sprawled out on beach chairs, hiding behind sunglasses and drinking coconut water that Yuta swore would help with hangovers (but, in fact, did not).

You dozed on and off under an umbrella, trying not to think about how your body still ached in several places from the night before, and enjoyed your last day in Okinawa before you'd return to work on Monday.

When evening rolled around and it was time to pack up, the house became a chaos of suitcases and forgotten phone chargers once more. You were struggling with your bag next to your car, trying to figure out the best angle to lift it into the trunk without stressing your still sore muscles, when Satoru suddenly appeared and took it from your hands without a word.

"I can manage," you protested, but he was already lifting it into your trunk with an effortless ease that really shouldn't be as attractive as it was.

"I'm sure you can," he said, closing your trunk with a soft thud. "But maybe I just want an excuse to do this." 

Before you could ask what 'this' was, he pressed a small folded piece of paper into your palm. You opened it to find a phone number written in his surprisingly neat handwriting.

"Since you didn't stay for it last time," he said softly.

"What makes you think I'll use it?"

"Because this time, you want to stay just as much as I want you to." He leaned closer, his voice dropping so only you could hear. "Besides, I believe we still have a few surfaces in my apartment left to explore."

You shoved his shoulder. "Stop." 

He caught your hand before you could push him again. "Use it. Please?" His voice held a note of softness, an unexpected tenderness that made your heart ache with a strange longing. You nodded, tucking the paper safely into your back pocket.

"Still not announcing anything to everyone tho," you warned as Maki called out that they were ready to leave.

"Yet," he said with an eye roll. Then, before you could react, he pulled you in for one last kiss. It was slower, deeper this time, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you, as if he was afraid he might forget the feel of your lips.

"Someone could see us," you whispered against his lips, even as your fingers curled into his shirt.

"I don't care," he murmured, one hand sliding down to your waist to draw you closer. "Let them see." He kissed you again, shorter this time but no less intense. "Besides, they'll find out soon enough when I take you to this little ramen place in Shibuya I've been wanting to show you."

You pulled back slightly. "Oh? Someone's confident about getting a second date."

"Third, technically," he said. "If we're counting Tokyo. And that thing against the washing machine last night."

"Those don't count.”

"Then I guess I'll have to make the next one special. Maybe dinner first. Then I can show you my apartment. Properly this time, not just the entrance hall and kitchen counter."

"Is that your way of asking me out?"

"That's my way of saying I'm not letting you disappear for six months again." He pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. "Use my number this time, yeah?"

"Satoru!" Yuji's voice carried across the driveway. "Stop making out and help me with these bags!"

Satoru laughed against your lips, stealing one more kiss before reluctantly pulling away. "Think about it. The ramen place. My apartment. All the surfaces we haven't used yet."

"Go help Yuji," you said, pushing him away even as you smiled. "Before he comes over here."

"Call me," he said, walking backwards with that stupidly handsome smile. "Or I'll just have to show up at your office. Make a big scene. Maybe bring flowers. Really embarrass you in front of all your coworkers."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me!" He finally turned then to help with the bags, leaving you to shake your head, your lips still tingling from his kisses.

The drive home felt different somehow. Every now and then, your hand would drift to your pocket, fingers brushing over the folded paper with his number, making sure it was still there as the familiar roads back to Tokyo stretched ahead.

The beach house grew smaller in your rearview mirror until it disappeared completely, taking with it the memories of lazy afternoons under the summer sun and heated nights. But other things lingered—the ghost of his lips against yours, the warmth of his hands, the way he'd looked at you like you were something worth waiting for.

Maybe you'd call him tomorrow. Or maybe you'd wait a day or two, just to prove you could. But knowing you, you'd likely message him the moment you set foot in your apartment.

A smile tugged at your lips as you pulled onto the highway, the setting sun painting the sky in strokes of rose and  lavender. Whatever happened next, one thing was for sure — this weekend had changed everything.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn't such a bad thing.

masterlist + support my writing

author's note — and that's a wrap on our beach house summer story ! thank you so much for reading :)) & thank you again to @/nanamis-baker for beta reading !!

for anyone wondering, yes, she kept the shirt. and yes, he definitely noticed when she wore it to their first proper date to that ramen spot in shibuya.

if you enjoyed this fic, please feel free to leave a comment or reblog. it means so much !! until next time. stay thirsty hydrated, my friends <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here.

tags — @fayuki @starmapz @starlightanyaaa @sxnkuna @cocomanga

@nanamis-baker @rosso-seta @sugurbo @chiyokoemilia @janbannan

@bloopsstuff @snowsilver2000 @ihearttoru @momoewn @yokosandesu

@90s-belladonna @fairygardenprincesss

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[tsukimirecs]

SLYTHERIN // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

REGULUS BLACK

le lendemain matin

the salt and the sea

forever

the better of two bad options

a pen

the door

the black heir

distraction

THEODORE NOTT

love is sour grapes

by netws & nott

something stronger

like snow on the beach

the only heaven i'll be sent to (is when i'm alone with you)

TOM RIDDLE

desiderium

love again

from the glue

salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, and ink

midmorning

effects of amortentia

DRACO MALFOY

our little secret

honeydukes

firsts

how could i ever forget?

makeup

draco malfoy with shy!male!reader headcanons

cherry juice

MATTHEO RIDDLE

the cat

puppy eyes

the game

rainy nights m.r

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

like nobody else