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Why are there no Lost (abc) fanfics?! I'm gonna scream

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Not me getting the ending of Lost spoiled to me from a tik tok that came up on my fyp…

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✩ endless list of favourites ✩

Sayid Jarrah & Shannon Rutherford (Lost)  ❝Everyone gets a new life on this island. I'd like to start now.❞

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Thot daughter:

Gay son:

Boy mom:

Girl dad:

weaponized incompetence uncle:

Trauma bonding aunt:

Black cat neighbor:

Golden retriever:

Sister-in-law:

/

Golden-retriever-sister-in-law:

“I can’t get away from this fucking family”:

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HAPPY 20 YEARS MY LOSTIES‼️

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hi!! i saw your requests are open and im currently rewatching lost and crushing on sawyer all over again, could you maybe write a fic about braiding his hair? (lots and lots of fluff) f!reader in an already established relationship with james, thank you!

Braids

Paring: Sawyer x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

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The first rays of sunlight filtered through the thick jungle canopy, casting soft beams of gold onto the beach. The island was waking up slowly, but the usual chatter of the camp was still blissfully absent. The ocean’s waves lapped lazily at the shore, and a cool breeze rustled through the palm trees, carrying with it the salty scent of the sea.

You stretched out on your back in the makeshift tent, the one you shared with Sawyer—James, really, but no one else ever called him that. The tent was a little beaten up from the weeks of wear, but it had become something of a sanctuary for the two of you, offering a sliver of privacy in an otherwise chaotic life.

James lay beside you, still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily with each deep breath. His blonde hair, grown longer since the crash, was fanned out across the pillow. It had a habit of falling into his eyes, wild and unruly from the humid island air. You couldn’t help but smile as you studied his relaxed features—his usual scowl and teasing grin replaced with something softer. He looked younger when he slept, less burdened by the weight of his past.

Careful not to disturb him, you turned onto your side, propping your head up with one hand. You reached out with the other, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead, tucking it behind his ear. The sun glinted off his skin, making him look almost golden in the morning light. 

James stirred slightly at your touch, a low hum escaping his throat, but he didn’t open his eyes just yet. Instead, his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer without a word. It was moments like this that felt like a dream—when the island didn’t seem so harsh, and it was just the two of you, cocooned in your own little world.

You smiled to yourself and continued running your fingers through his hair, enjoying the soft texture of it. It was one of the few luxuries the island had allowed, and you took full advantage of it every chance you got.

“You plannin’ on pettin’ me all morning, or you gonna say somethin’?” His voice was rough with sleep, that slow Southern drawl breaking the silence.

You chuckled, biting your lip as his blue eyes cracked open, peeking at you from beneath those long lashes. “Maybe I’m just enjoying the peace and quiet before you start running your mouth.”

He grinned lazily, pulling you even closer until your head was resting on his chest, his thumb idly tracing circles on your lower back. “Careful, sweetheart. You’re gonna hurt my delicate feelings.”

You snorted. “Oh yeah? Since when have you ever had delicate feelings?”

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “You forgettin’ how sensitive I am? I’m practically a damn poet.”

You laughed softly, pressing your hand to his chest as you propped yourself up again. His hair, still falling messily around his face, caught your attention, and you gave him a playful look. “Speaking of sensitive… how about I fix this hair of yours before it takes over your face entirely?”

Sawyer gave a dramatic sigh, though his smile never wavered. “You just can’t resist playin’ with it, can ya?”

“Can you blame me?” You twirled a lock of his hair around your finger. “It’s a mess, but it’s *my* mess.”

He let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the attention. “Alright, darlin’. If it makes you happy, braid away.” He dropped his arm from around your waist, folding his hands behind his head in a show of surrender. “But don’t expect me to walk around camp with it, or I’ll never hear the end of it from the doc.”

You smiled and shifted so you could sit up properly, scooting close enough to begin your task. As your fingers moved through his hair, you noticed how he relaxed completely under your touch, the tension in his body melting away as you worked. The familiarity of the moment felt grounding—like an anchor in the storm of the island’s uncertainty.

Starting with a section of hair at the top of his head, you carefully parted it into three strands, letting your fingers move slowly as you began braiding. The hair was soft, slightly damp from the humidity, but it felt natural now—the way things had been since you’d grown close to him. Even in the most chaotic situations, you always seemed to find these quiet moments together, moments where the rest of the island and its dangers faded away.

As you finished the first braid, you leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head, breathing in the scent of salt and sun that clung to him.

“Ya know,” James said, his voice quieter now, “if I’d known you were gonna turn into a hairdresser out here, I might’ve made you cut it short.”

You laughed softly, moving on to braid another section. “You wouldn’t dare. Besides, I like your hair this way.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was teasing, but there was something softer underneath. “And what exactly do you like about it?”

You paused for a second, considering his question. “I like that it’s soft,” you said, fingers still threading through his hair. “And that it feels like you when I touch it. Like something familiar.”

James didn’t say anything for a long moment, and when you glanced down at him, you caught the slight tilt of his lips, a rare smile that wasn’t his usual cocky smirk, but something deeper. The kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“You got a way with words, ya know that?” he murmured, his eyes still closed as if savoring the moment.

You hummed in response, finishing the second braid and moving on to the last. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, casting longer beams of light across the sand. The camp would be waking up soon, and the daily chaos would begin again, but right now, everything was still calm. It was just the two of you, wrapped up in the gentle rhythm of the morning.

As you tied off the final braid, you sat back to admire your handiwork. His long hair was now neatly braided in three small plaits along the sides of his head, leaving the rest of it loose and out of his face. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it made him look even more ruggedly handsome in that untamed way only Sawyer could pull off.

“There,” you said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “All done.”

He opened his eyes then, glancing up at you with that familiar spark of mischief. “So, how do I look? Like a million bucks?”

You giggled, brushing your fingers over the braids to smooth them down. “Better than that.”

James sat up, pulling you into his lap in one swift motion, his arms wrapping around your waist as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “Damn right,” he murmured against your skin, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone. “I’m worth at least a billion.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the warmth that bloomed in your chest at his touch. “I’ll give you that,” you said, running your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck.

For a moment, the world outside your tent didn’t exist. There were no Others, no looming dangers, no mysteries to solve. Just you and James, wrapped in each other, the morning sun warming your skin and the quiet sound of the ocean in the background.

“Ya know,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “you coulda braided your own hair. Give me somethin’ to hold onto next time.”

You laughed, swatting his arm lightly. “You wish.”

“Oh, I know,” he drawled, pressing another kiss to your neck, “and don’t you forget it.”

You leaned back into him, closing your eyes as the breeze ruffled the fabric of the tent. Whatever the island threw at you today, you felt ready to face it. Because no matter how rough things got, no matter what dangers or mysteries still lingered out there in the jungle, you had this. These moments with James, the man who let you braid his hair in the quiet mornings when no one else was watching.

And somehow, that made everything else a little more bearable.

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Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged for oneshots!

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I need John Locke as my therapist

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LOST (2004-2010)

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