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aoifeshifter · 12 days ago

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Please I want no neeeeeeed a joshua ravensbergen fic

(Also welcome hope your first post goes well)

i miss the beach so were making it set at the beach

It starts, as it usually does, with Reagan Leonard standing on the top deck of the Outer Banks beach house in a tiny white bikini, yelling down at Josh.

She’s got one hand shielding her eyes, curly red hair half up in some complicated braid she definitely forced Malayna to help her with, and the other hand propped on her hip like she owns the entire North Carolina coastline. Her skin is already sun-warmed, her string bracelets pulled high and knotted tight, and her oversized linen button-down is flapping in the breeze like a flag of superiority. Her accent is thick, annoyed, and unmistakably hers.

“Joshua! I swear to god—if you don’t get your ass down here in thirty seconds, I’m throwing your phone in the ocean!”

She gets three boys and a dog poking their heads out of the sliding glass door below—Gabe Perreault, shirtless and still brushing his teeth, her older brother Ryan with his hair wet from a shower, and her boyfriend, holding a banana like a weapon, clearly caught mid-bite.

Aoife points at him. “Yes, you. Banana boy. You’re carrying the chairs.”

The blond doesn’t argue. He never does. He just swallows the bite, hands the rest of the banana to Ryan (who takes it without blinking), and grabs the fold-up chairs stacked in the laundry room without saying a word. Like she didn’t just threaten to throw his phone into a body of saltwater.

Like he wouldn’t let her.

Will Smith, another one of Ryan’s friends, whistles as Joshua passes. “You’re so whipped.”

Reagan’s boyfriend is already smiling, throwing a backward glance up at the deck where she has started marching down the stairs in sandals. “She’s scary, man.”

“She’s five-three.”

“She’s Reagan,” Joshua says simply. And that’s all the explanation he needs.

The sand’s already scorching by ten AM. Ryan’s girlfriend Kenzie already set up the towels, Audrey’s half-asleep under a hat the size of a UFO, and Will and Malayna are arguing over who cheated in last night’s card game. Grace and Danny are “supervising” from under an umbrella with mimosas in hand. Reagan, however, is sprawled across Josh’s back like he’s her personal beach towel. She’s damp from swimming already, skin smelling like sunscreen and ocean.

She rests her chin on his shoulder blade and grins.

“Do you think I’m scary?”

Joshua glances at her over his sunglasses. “Terrifying.”

“Liar.”

“You threatened me with bodily harm before I was even out of bed.”

“You took my pillow, Josh.”

“You were sleeping on me.”

“Exactly.” She bites his shoulder, lightly, and he just laughs. His whole body shifts under her.

Ryan walks by, stares at the scene, and mutters, “You two are disgusting.”

“Thank you,” Reagan says sweetly. “Now go get me a popsicle.”

“Get it yourself.” Her brother retorts.

Josh is already moving. “What kind?”

“Red,” she says, already sliding off him, kicking sand at Ryan’s shin in the process. “And if they’re out of red, then blue. And if they’re out of blue, then you better fight someone.”

Josh gives a mock salute and jogs off toward the cooler. Reagan watches him go, her sunglasses slipping down her nose.

“He’s such a little bitch for you,” Kenzie says without looking up from her book.

Reagan shrugs. “He likes it.”

“She’s not wrong,” Malayna adds. “I caught him folding all her socks the other night.”

“They were inside out,” Joshua calls from twenty feet away. “It’s wrong to leave them like that.”

Reagan snorts behind her hand.

It’s always like this in the Outer Banks.

Reagan, in a flowy dress she’ll tie at the waist, bare-faced and sun-touched, pulling Josh down into the water even though he says it’s too cold. Reagan, mouth full of chips, correcting everyone’s form mid–beach volleyball game while perched on her boyfriend's shoulders like a warlord. Reagan, hanging off his arm like an accessory made of sunshine and stubbornness and trauma and eyeliner.

And Joshua Ravensbergen? He lets her. Follows her. Carries her bag, refills her water, puts aloe on her back without a second thought. He doesn’t try to lead because he doesn’t need to. He’s just happy to be here. He’s just happy she’s here.

Sometimes, when it’s just them—when the others have gone in for lunch or naps or more sunscreen—they’ll lie pressed together on the towel, whispering.

Reagan will trace lines across his face like constellations. Joshua will hum under his breath and wrap her pinky with his. She always needs the contact. Always.

“I love you,” she says, sudden and soft, the sun making a halo of her hair.

Josh blinks like he hasn’t heard it before, even though she says it constantly. “You do?”

“Mhm,” she hums, leaning in and smirking.

He kisses her, careful, reverent, right on the lips. “I love you too.”

“You better,” she says brightly. “I’m not transferring to Stanford to be closer to Will”

#gabe perreault #nhl players #ryan leonard #will smith hockey #joshua ravensbergen #outer banks

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aoifeshifter · 14 days ago

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my college dr:

bear with me. I'm not a writer at all. but I needed some shifting motivation so deal.

Outer Banks, North Carolina.

The sand was hot enough to blister. The salt in the air burned just enough to remind you you were alive. And Aoife Angelina Solace—brilliant, stubborn, perpetually barefoot—was the one dictating the day’s agenda with her chin high and sunglasses perched dramatically on top of her head.

“Absolutely not. I’m not letting you wear that,” Will said with the kind of weak protest that sounded like he was hoping she’d ignore him. Which she did.

Because she always did.

She turned around, arms crossed under the loose oversized tee she'd stolen from his drawer that morning. The shirt said “San Jose Sharks Development Camp” and hung to her mid-thigh, barely covering the pale blue bikini bottoms she’d put on entirely to drive him crazy. She rolled her eyes as she adjusted her curls, already curling tighter in the humidity. “You’ve seen me naked, Will. Shut the fuck up.”

Will blinked. “Yeah, and that doesn’t mean I want Gabe seeing you in a thong.”

Aoife tilted her head like she was thinking. “Okay, but Gabe doesn’t matter to me. You do.”

Will’s ears turned a shade that could only be described as lobster-shell red. He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, “You’re gonna kill me.”

She grinned, taking her attention away from the mirror for the sole purpose to wink at him. “Only if you’re lucky.”

Behind them, the beach house was alive with the sounds of summer: Grace yelling for Danny to stop hogging the upstairs bathroom, Ryan and Gabe arguing about who was getting a call-up first, and Colleen Smith threatening to revoke the boys’ breakfast privileges if they didn’t help clean the sand off the deck.

But Aoife? She didn’t even flinch. She dragged her boyfriend toward the water with one hand fisted in his, a green woven beach blanket under the other arm.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Will muttered, letting himself be pulled.

“You’re lucky I haven’t drowned you yet,” Aoife countered sweetly, dropping the blanket down just far enough from the shore that her toes wouldn’t get wet until she chose to. Control. She liked it.

Aoife had always been like this.

Not loud necessarily. Just present. So thoroughly and unapologetically herself that it didn’t matter how many degrees she had or how often she nearly died in surgery—when she said, “Let’s go swim,” Will went swimming. When she said, “You’re sitting on my towel,” he moved without thinking. And when she climbed into his lap twenty minutes later, curling up against his chest even though the sun was hot and her skin was sticky with SPF 70, he didn’t complain once.

She laid her head on his shoulder and hummed something soft and low. One of her string bracelets stuck to his arm with the salt, the one for her dad—the red, blue, and yellow one. Will’s fingers brushed it instinctively, gentle and familiar.

He pressed his lips to her temple. “You’re too warm.”

“You still love me anyway,” she said, already halfway asleep on him.

“I do,” he admitted.

An hour later, the rest of the beach crowd had joined them.

Malayna and Luca were arguing over paddle ball technique. Grace and Danny had somehow found a Bluetooth speaker and were blasting whatever playlist Aoife had made for the trip—some chaotic mix of early 2000s rock and obscure indie girl rage. Gabe and Audrey were applying sunscreen in the way only people in long-term relationships do: lazy, intimate, not caring who saw. As if Aoife hadn't finally been able to convince him to just ask her out three weeks prior.

But Will and Aoife stayed as they were. Her head tucked under his chin. His arms looped around her back like a seatbelt. He was saying something low, probably about the waves or how much he’d missed this: the sand, the smell of her sunscreen, the way she still took up more space than someone her size had a right to.

“You’re gross,” she told him, eyes still closed.

“You’re grosser,” he said, nuzzling into her curls.

She swatted at him lazily. “Don’t touch my hair.”

“I like your hair.”

“Doesn’t mean you can touch it.”

He leaned in, whispering just for her: “Then how come you let me touch it last night when—”

Her hand slapped over his mouth before he could finish. “William.”

“Mmhmm?” came his muffled reply, all smiles and salt and sunscreen.

She took her hand back, sighing. “You are the worst. Truly.”

“You still love me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.”

The sun started to sink lower around four. Colleen started prepping dinner, sending the younger boys to grab groceries from the Food Lion that Aoife hated because their canned peaches were always dented.

Will tried to get up, said something about helping Grace and Danny with the grill, but Aoife yanked him down again, wrapping herself around his back like a particularly sassy koala.

“Nope. You live here now.”

“Aoife.”

“Will.”

He sighed dramatically, falling back onto the blanket and letting her drape herself across his chest. She immediately began picking at the Sharks logo on his shirt. “Why do you still wear this one?”

“It smells like you,” he said without thinking.

She blinked, pausing. Then smirked.

“God, you’re obsessed with me.”

“Maybe.”

“Say it.”

“I’m obsessed with you,” Will said easily.

She kissed his cheek. “Good boy.”

#will smith hockey #gabe perreault #ryan leonard #usntdp #san jose sharks #washington capitals #new york rangers #reality shifting #desired reality #nhl players #college dr

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