#have I stated how I used to love playing in the ocean surf as a child SPECIFICALLY for the moments a strong wave would tumble me until I wa

[hiddenbysuccubi]

Just a question. Because I just thought of it and I do not know the answer. Ever since Jr High at the latest I've whipped my head rapidly side to side to dry my hair and as an adult I haven't much but I've done so again recently and - it's a very pleasant feeling / stimulation and is that a thing other people do

[elrielffs]

This is just a loose theorizing by me about Gwyn's role in the future books and how this ties to Azriel and an Elriel story.

It's not meant to be anti-Gwyn. I actually really like Gwyn as a character but it does incorporate Lightsinger Gwyn and for some, this is anti-rhetoric.

This is just me kicking things around in my noggin' and nothing concrete but just loose attachments.

Under the cut cause it's kinda long.

I was thinking about some of the details we've been given in story and some meta things from SJM's pinterest. I don't really subscribe to the pinterest as end all be all but I do think some things are very interesting on it.

I do think SJM is pulling from various fairytales and myths, particularly Blodeuwedd, Koschei the Deathless and other Russian folktales, and The Little Mermaid. We know SJM takes inspiration from fairy tales.

First we have Blodeuwedd which SJM saved titling Elain. The story of Blodeuwedd is that she was made to be the perfect wife of Lleu Llaw Gyffes but rejects him and falls in love with another, Gronw Pebr.

In the Koschei and the Deathless, we have Ivan Tsarevich who has 3 sisters that marry 3 winged wizards. Ivan saves Marya Morevna, a warrior princess, from Koschei and marries her.

I think the first two speaks for themselves on how they relate to ACOTAR so I won't delve to much into it but you can see how it relates to the story that is playing out.

Last is The Little Mermaid. We all know this story because of Disney and also it's probably one of the more well known fairy tales' but the broad strokes of the ORIGINAL telling is: The Little Mermaid falls in love with the human prince, makes a deal with the Sea Witch for her fins to be turned into legs to be with him on land, the prince falls in love with someone else, and the Mermaid is tasked by the Sea Witch with killing the prince to get her fins back but she can't do it because she loves the prince too much and instead turns into bubbles/foam/becomes an air spirit.

How does this relate to Gwyn?

Gwyn has been described many a time with ocean/water like imagery and has been stated to have nymph heritage. Her eyes are constantly described as the sunlit sea and she even says the quote," I am the rock on which the surf crashes."

We are also told about Lightsingers in the same book that Gwyn is introduced: They are ethereal beings who will lure their prey to them, appearing as friendly faces. Only when their prey were in their arms would their true faces emerge.

This shares many similarities to Sirens: creatures that live in or by the ocean, that lure victims to them with an alluring voice. Sirens have also become synonymous with mermaids, merging into one creature with siren and mermaid being used interchangeably to describe the one being.

Gwyn has show these same characteristics in story. Gwyn is shown to be a singer and have a beautiful voice and to also glow when she sings.

When Nesta hears Gwyn sing she describes it thus:

Drawing any listener in.

Nesta also says this about Gwyn upon first meeting her:

Gwyn also tells Nesta at one point that Nesta wouldn't like the "real" her.

I won't go too in depth to the Lightsinger theory because there are plenty of other posts floating around breaking it down better than me but suffice to say that there is a correlation between Gwyn's voice/singing=some type of power. This easily translates into Lightsinger/mermaid/siren imagery and theory.

Now this next part is just me spit balling and is more fast and loose and how this could tie into an Elriel story:

We don't know too much about Koschei in story except that he's a Death God and older brother to Stryga and the Bone Carver, beings who traveled from another world to Prythian (Daglan/Asteri?) and a powerful wizard that cursed Vassa.

At one point he tells Azriel he has "been preparing for you". What could this mean? Why has he been preparing for Azriel?

Why would Koschei, who is a powerful wizard, bargain with the Acheron's father, a human nobody? Is it because he is Elain's father?

Rhysand speculates that there's a possibility that the priestess have been infiltrated. We saw with Ianthe that not all priestess's harbor good intentions and in ACOWAR that the library can be broken into.

It has been highly speculated that Merrill, a priestess in the Library, is up to something. Is she in line with Koschei?

Who works under Merrill? Gwyn.

We know from HOFAS that the cauldron is corrupted by the Asteri/Daglan, a fact speculated by Azriel himself in the bonus chapter.

Is possible that Koschei as a Daglan/Asteri had a hand in corrupting the cauldron to mix up Elain's mates? Is that how Koschei "prepared" for Azriel?

And what about Gwyn working under Merrill? Gwyn could be manipulated and unknowingly assisting Koschei/Merrill or she could be working for them for some kind of favor--returning her sister Catrin to life?

Also, the fact that Gwyn and Catrin are twins can be used for shenanigan's. What if Gwyn is actually Catrin? (This is purely speculative on my part by the fact that they were made twins rather than just sisters.)

It's also mentioned that Catrin had webbed fingers. I love this little detail and wish Gwyn had them too but is there a reason she doesn't? Could this be to distinguish Catrin and Gwyn at a later date besides hair color?

Could Merrill/Koschei know about Gwyn's Lightsinger heritage and be using her as way to lure Azriel away from Elain?

What is one of the gifts Elain gets Azriel? Ear plugs.

We know it as a gag gift but we also know that Elain has visions--we don't know how fragmented or how fully she receives them but is is possible that she saw something that inspired her to give Azriel the ear plugs?

Is this to upset the balance of the 6 pointed star mentioned in HOFAS?

Could Gwyn, unknowingly or knowingly be working for Koschei to infiltrate the IC via Nesta and the training, lure Azriel away from Elain? Could Gwyn fall in love (this part is not needed, it can be just business on Gwyn's end) with Azriel but realize thru her connections with the Valkyries and training and Azriel that she can't go thru with it?

Let me reiterate, I don't think Gwyn is evil. I think she could be manipulated, coerced, or promised something she can't refuse to help or go along with Koschei/Merrill. She might not even know it's Koschei she is helping or that she is even in fact assisting. She could be manipulated into using her unknown Lightersinger powers.

Gwyn (the Mermaid) is promised/manipulated into using her Lightsinger powers by Koschei/Merrill (Sea Witch) to lure Azriel (the prince) away from Elain (the woman the prince loves) but the end she can't go thru with it either because she realizes it's wrong, realizes she's being manipulated or because she can't do that to Azriel.

I know there is more that can be conjected but this is already quite long and I didn't even delve into the Swan Lake and Sleeping Beauty parallels.

I realize this could have been posted before and nothing new but I just wanted to put my thoughts out there and hear some more of my fellow Elriels!

[eighthsensed]

Teen Vogue Excerpt – Why Queer Characters in LGBTQ Movies and BL Dramas Find Solace at the Beach

BY K-CI WILLIAMS JUNE 29, 2023

The Eighth Sense, a BL drama from South Korea, lives and dies by the beach. Oh Jun-taek plays Jihyun, a college student from a small town who struggles to acclimatize to metropolitan Seoul. When Jihyun joins the surfing club, he bonds with his senior, Jaewon, played by Im Ji-sub. As they fall in love, the beach becomes their spot for sleeping under the stars and even kissing in the ocean. “The beach is kind of like a tool that connects us,” Ji-sub tells Teen Vogue over Zoom, in his native Korean. Jun-taek adds that the “beach is very wide but Jihyun has been living in a world that has been very small,” and although “the ocean itself is very cold, the ocean was actually very warm for Jihyun.” It’s a site of transformation for them both, just as water metamorphoses between its forms.

Ji-sub names the beach as a “special spot” for Jaewon, “where he can relax and heal mentally as well.” Jaewon’s younger brother tragically passed away a number of years before we meet him in the series, and the trauma still sits with him. “I didn't realize how broad a range of emotions can be felt when you love someone until I played the character Jaewon, because it's something that I personally didn't experience,” Ji-sub says. Jaewon welcomes Jihyun into his place of significance, illuminating his dark spaces and ultimately bringing the pair together.

Jun-taek alludes to the title of the series, recalling our senses as human beings. Interoception, often called the eighth sense, is the brain’s perception of the body’s state, thanks to signals transmitted from our internal organs. Understanding these signals can help us regulate our physical and emotional state, though at the same time, trauma can inhibit those pathways. “The beach kiss scene was the sequence [in which] someone with pain and bad memories, PTSD in the past, turns into love and being healed by Jihyun,” Jun-taek says. “Although you have bad memories or trauma…you can be healed. Do not remain, do not stay with the pain.”

Inu Baek, one half of The Eighth Sense’s writer/director duo, attributes the beach to a specific cultural symbolism. He refers to the United Nations Human Rights Committee’s 2015 advice for South Korea to adopt comprehensive protections for all citizens, which would prohibit discrimination against the queer community. “We have not been able to enact the anti-discrimination law in Korea yet,” Inu tells Teen Vogue. He wanted to “give the Korean audience a message because Korea has experienced lots of disasters in the ocean” that are still ever-present traumas for citizens, such as the Sewol ferry tragedy — the show even pays tribute to those lost with a covertly placed yellow ribbon. “The beach symbolizes the hope of the harmony of this country,” Inu says.

A still from The Eighth Sense. COURTESY OF THE EIGHTH SENSE

The show’s other writer/director is Werner du Plessis, who offers the beach as a representation of “the ebb and flow of relationships, the way that they move, the way that they’re never consistent,” but also a “space that is simultaneously peaceful, while being extremely dangerous, like the ocean is such an unknown.” And also, quicksand exists. Intrinsic to our genesis as queer people is navigating identity, from day dot. As the intersection of two worlds, toeing the line between who society expects us to be and who we truly are inside, the beach is “such a beautiful metaphor for queer people,” Werner says, “because it’s exactly the way that we’re designed.”

[sunflowervolvimp3]

garden (koh!harry)

Warnings: language

Pairing: king of hell!Harry x angel!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: alright so!! this is an au a friend of mine and I thought of a couple years ago!! basically it’s demon!harry and angel!reader but with the added spice of harry being the king of hell!! the premise for this au is that it’ll kind of be an ongoing series/universe, like the hades!harry au!! so that means I’ll be posting a series of one shots and concepts in a non-chronological order, meaning that each one shot takes place in a different time and in a different order!! I’m really excited to write a series like this, in addition to the long stand-alone fics I do, and I really really hope you guys like it!! the last time I did a shorter one shot, it didn’t really get any feedback, and I thought longer stand-alone fics were the way to go, but I do really miss this format!! so. please. if you like it!! reblog it!! let me know you like it!! and let me know what questions you have about this au!! any concept or blurb ideas or thoughts you have!! I’m very excited for it and I hope you guys are too <3 also I originally wrote this au on my marvel blog last year, and have reworked and revamped it, so if it looks familiar, or sounds familiar, I promise I haven’t plagiarized lmao that was me!!

{masterlist}

When Y/N wakes up, the room is dark.

This, Y/N has come to realize, is normal, considering that the chambers she sleeps in have no windows. While this fact would normally have troubled her, she’s made her peace with it.  After all, what is there to see?  The palace, located in the center of hell, is surrounded by the flames of the underworld and the souls of the damned, and while neither of those things are a welcoming sight in the morning, they’re especially unwelcome for an angel such as herself.  It had taken her so long to adjust to the obsidian stone walls around her, the heavy black and red velvet drapes that lined the frame of her bed, and the smell of sulfur that lingered in the air, even after she had placed herbs and flowers to burn in the fireplace and create a sweet smoke in the air.  Truth be told, Y/N still wasn’t completely adjusted to the atmosphere around her, but this, too, doesn’t surprise her.  An angel could never truly adjust to being in hell.

A rustling in the bed next to her pulls Y/N from her thoughts, and she lets her gaze shift to the muscled body nestled in the sheets next to her.  This, she thinks, is another thing she may never get used to, even though it sparks a burning desire deep within her.  While the king of hell may have once frightened you, the sight of him lying next to her brings a feeling of comfort to her, and Y/N allows herself a moment to admire the rarely relaxed state Harry is currently in.  His curls, which are normally carefully styled beneath his crown, are tousled from sleep, falling into his face in an endearing way. His face itself is relaxed, the hard creases from the scowl that’s usually permanently etched into his features all but disappeared.  The demon is normally a fearsome thing to behold, his power at the forefront of every one of his movements, but seeing him like this…these are some of Y/N’s favourite times.

Thinking him still asleep, Y/N carefully pushes his mussed curls back from his face, her fingers tracing down the line of his jaw.  She can feel the stubble that’s unperceivable in the dark, and a soft sigh falls from her lips as she enjoys the rough sensation against her delicate fingers.

“Why are you awake, angel?” Harry’s low voice rumbles deep from his chest, raspy from lack of use.  Although his eyes remain closed, his face half pressed into his pillow, Y/N watches him adjust himself in the bed.

“I don’t know.” She whispers back, laying her head back on her own pillow, her gaze still on his body. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“S’alright.” Harry gives a small sigh, opening his eyes just barely. “I was just resting.  I’m fine.”

Yes, Y/N thinks, that’s another thing she isn’t quite used to.  While her body functions like that of a human, needing sleep every night, breathing oxygen into her lungs, a heart pumping blood through her veins…. Harry doesn’t.  It’s rare he sleeps, and even when he does, it’s never for more than a few hours.  He had explained to Y/N once how his heart beat so slowly when he was created, and how it stopped completely when he reached full maturity.  Although Y/N can see the faint blueish outlines of veins beneath his tattooed skin, she’s not exactly sure what runs through them.  Blood seems too common for a being like him.  And if he was ever to get hurt, Y/N’s quite certain that he wouldn’t bleed like she would.

The sensation of Harry beginning to play with her hair pulls Y/N from her thoughts. “Why are you awake, hm?” He keeps his voice low, his tone gentle.  He’s gotten better at speaking softly for her. “What’s troubling that pretty mind of yours, angel?”

Y/N half shrugs as best she can while laying down. “Nothing.  Just…thinking, I suppose.”

Harry quirks up an eyebrow. “Thinking?  About what?”

The words hesitate at the edge of Y/N’s mouth before spilling out. “How…I don’t really belong here.”

A deep hum echoes from Harry’s chest as his deep green eyes close again. “’F course you belong here, love. Don’t be silly.”

“I don’t belong here.” Y/N repeats the phrase insistently, her eyes glued to the way his jaw tenses as she says it. “I…I’m not from here.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t belong.” Harry counters, eyes opening once again.  They’re darker now, and Y/N can see the stubbornness swirling within them. “I’m the king.  I want you here.  That means you belong.”

Y/N chews on her bottom lip, contemplating the best way to explain herself. “I just…I miss it.” She says finally, her voice small as it slips into the space between them.

Harry’s pink lips pull down into a frown. “Miss what?”

Fingers twisting together, Y/N pauses before answering Harry’s inquiry. “Above.”

“Oh, angel…” Harry sighs again as he shifts his position, pulling her into his marked chest.  His strong hands find her back in the darkness, stroking up and down over her cotton nightgown in a soothing manner. “What’s there to miss?  Angry people rushing around all the time, destroying their own planet?  Destroying themselves along with it?  No, you’re much better off down here, with me.”

“There’s plenty to miss.” Y/N counters, pressing her ear into his chest to be greeted with the familiar sound of silence. “The smell of rain, sunshine, flowers growing, birdsongs…” She sighs as she trails off. “And I like people, you know that.  They may destroy things, but down here…you destroy things too.”

“Only things that need to be.” Harry argues, his fingers continuing his tracings across her back, barely brushing over the two ridges between her shoulder blades where her wings usually sit. “Souls that deserve punishment, or souls that sold themselves to me.  It’s part of the deal, angel.”

“I miss my garden.” Y/N’s voice is barely audible as she grazes her finger over his pentagram necklace. “My rose bushes, my sunflowers…I used to grow berries, too.  Strawberries, blueberries…I would make delicious pies and scones…”

“If you truly desire those things,” Harry murmurs slowly, carefully measuring his words. “Then I can get them for you.  I can send a demon to the surface for the fruits, and all the ingredients you would need to bake.  I’m sure anything you create would taste…” The growing smirk is practically audible in his voice. “Sweet.”

Despite the light warmth that flushes her cheeks, Y/N shakes her head against his chest. “It’s not the same.” She sighs. “I miss the breeze.  I miss the ocean.  I used to run to the edge of the surf to dip my toes in the water…and I loved going to the beach at night.  On clear nights, the moon would reflect on the water like a mirror, two glowing spheres, watching over me…”

“Are you not happy here?” Harry’s voice turns gruffer as he registers the longing in her voice. “You know why going to the surface is dangerous.  The angels—”

“Would try to take me back. I know.  And I don’t want to go back.” Y/N rubs her hand over Harry’s tensed muscles, trying to soothe him back into a relaxed position. “I just miss it. Isn’t there anything you miss? Anything that causes an ache in you, deep in your chest?” She presses her palm over his stilled heart to emphasize her words.

Harry softens at her touch, relaxing back into the sheets once more. “The only absence that could ever make me ache is yours.” He kisses the top of her head, an action so tender that Y/N almost forgets he’s a demon. “Sleep, angel.  Dwelling on these matters will only cause you pain.”

Y/N kisses his collarbones chastely, the curves fitting easily underneath her lips, before settling herself back down and closing her eyes.  Although breathing isn’t necessary for Harry, the familiar action soothes her as she listens to his breaths, the sound acting as her own personal ocean as she drifts to sleep.

…

The bed is cold when Y/N wakes up again the next morning, a sign that Harry has been long gone.  Given his strange sleep schedule, this isn’t unusual. What is unusual, however, is the carefully folded note sitting on his carefully fluffed pillow.  Y/N’s name is on the top of the note, scribbled in Harry’s messy penmanship.  Y/N rubs the sleep from her eyes as she picks up the rough paper, a shiver rolling through her as she brings it to her nose.  Although there’s the now familiar burn of sulphur initially, underneath sits Harry’s musky cologne, and the faint scent of it is enough to drive her mad.

Before she allows herself to get worked up any more, Y/N carefully unfolds the note, finding more of Harry’s writing on the inside.

Breakfast will be outside today, on the palace grounds.

Y/N frowns in confusion as she reads over the words repeatedly, trying to make sense of them. Harry knows that she hates going outside the palace walls, much preferring to spend her time inside the safety of the obsidian stone structure.  Between the anguished sounds of the damned, the burning smell of sulfur, the agonizing heat…Y/N typically avoids the depressing area.  However, Y/N has always had a natural curiosity to her, ever since she was created, and she knows that Harry is aware of that, which is why she finds herself making her way to the palace grounds as soon as she’s dressed. Although the idea of going outside leaves a pit in her stomach, she can’t help but wonder what would bring Harry to want to have breakfast outside.  And, moreover, Y/N trusts Harry.  Despite every one of her natural instincts telling her that a demon is dangerous, and the king of demons is even more so, Harry’s proven to her that he wouldn’t put her in harm’s way.

When Y/N reaches the palace doors, Harry is already waiting there, his arms clasped behind his back. He’s dressed in his usual attire of a suit, but this one is one of Y/N’s favourites.  The black fabric is trimmed with red, and a pattern of intricate red and gold stitches decorates the body of the jacket.  The pants are tailored to match, fitting his legs perfectly enough that they just brush the top of his black heeled boots.  As Y/N’s eyes trail back up, she registers his usual rings on his hands—the silver skull, the ruby, the silver band, the onyx stone—as well as notes that his fingernails have freshly been painted black.  His pentagram necklace, she knows, is carefully tucked under his shirt, hidden away between the black fabric and his tattooed chest.  There’s a slight smile on his lips as he watches her walk towards him, and a satisfied expression glimmers in his dark green eyes.  As he turns his head to the side to regard her, the gold and ruby crown that sits atop his perfectly styled curls catches the low light of the lit sconces around them.

As soon as Y/N is within his reach, Harry extends a ringed hand. “Good morning, angel.” He pulls her close to him, pressing her into his chest. “You look beautiful.”

Although enduring his compliments have become the usual, Y/N still hasn’t quite gotten used to them, and a light blush grows over her cheeks. Despite the embarrassment, Y/N’s glad that his words haven’t triggered the angelic blue light that sometimes radiates from her eyes when she feels something intensely (it had happened once a few weeks ago, and the smug look on Harry’s face had made Y/N swear to herself that she wouldn’t let it happen again). “Thank you, my king.” She holds up the note curiously, gauging the expression on his face. “What’s this?”

“I have a surprise for you.” Harry lowers his voice as he leans down to brush his lips over Y/N’s ear, speaking so only she can hear his throaty words. “And I really think you’ll love it.”

His tone of voice coupled with his breath on her ear makes Y/N shiver involuntarily. “O-okay.”

Judging by the smirk on Harry’s face, Y/N can tell that her reaction hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Come, angel.” Harry tugs lightly on Y/N’s hand as his smirk transforms itself into a more tender grin. “I have something to show you.”

Y/N’s curiosity is what allows her to allow Harry to push the front doors of the palace open and lead her outside.  As expected, the moment Y/N steps into the muggy air of hell, her discomfort starts. Each breath seems to catch in her throat, and the very air around them feels as if it’s clinging to her skin, burrowing deep into her pores to start a slow burn.  A small sound of discomfort escapes Y/N’s throat against her will, catching Harry’s attention immediately.

“You’re alright, angel.” He assures her instantly, squeezing her warm hand with his own icy fingers. “Come.”

Y/N continues to allow herself to be led by Harry, all of her steps falling slightly behind his own. After a few more minutes pass, she’s about to speak again to ask what exactly is so important for her to see, until she senses a change in the air.  The more they walk, the more the burning smell of sulphur disappears from her senses. With relief finally on the horizon, Y/N’s pace finally speed up until she falls into step with Harry, her curiosity growing stronger as her discomfort slips away.

Harry squeezes her hand again, and the simple gesture is almost an encouragement as Y/N’s steps increase again.  She begins to pull him behind her, leading the way on instinct alone.  There’s an excitement in her curiosity and confusion, and Harry can feel it emanating from her as she gets closer and closer to his surprise.  It brings a smile to his face, seeing her like this.  Seeing her alive.  Seeing her bring life to a place meant for the damned.

When Y/N finally sees the source of the sweet smelling air, she stops in her tracks, her hand moving to clutch Harry’s arm in shock as her mouth falls open.  She gasps sharply, so in awe of what’s in front of her that the lack of pain from breathing hell’s hair doesn’t even register in her mind.  Her mind has no space for it.  All that she can think about is Harry behind her and the garden before her.

This is her surprise. A garden.  A real, living, almost seemingly breathing, garden.  At least, Y/N thinks it’s a garden.  The dry earth beneath her spreads into scorched grass that fades into a delightful green hue, so vibrant that Y/N almost thinks that each blade has been painted with the colour.  At the edge of the grass is a large hedge, at least three times as tall as Y/N and double as long.  The darker green leaves that make up the wall of nature are dotted with wildflowers, adding pops of white and yellow every few inches.  In the very center of the hedge is a large wooden door, built out of dark, sturdy wood studded with shining iron bolts.  Although there’s a large wrought-iron knocker in the center of the wood, there’s no handle, and fear of not being able to see inside the magnificent structure seizes Y/N’s body as she turns to look at Harry with questioning and concerned eyes.

Harry seems to read the question in Y/N’s eyes, and the demon steps forward in response. “Here.” He says, taking Y/N’s hand from his arm and pressing it to the door, his own hand cupped over hers protectively.  There’s a cadence to his voice that Y/N’s never heard before, and it takes her a moment to register it as excitement as he continues speaking. “It only opens to your touch.”

Y/N feels a shudder underneath her hand, almost as if the wood has registered that the palm pressed against it is her own.  The force keeping it closed suddenly fades away, and Y/N easily pushes the large door open to reveal the garden inside.  

The crisp and clear scent of fresh air hits Y/N first, almost bowling her over completely.  For the first time in a long time, she’s able to inhale deeply and freely, not worrying about what the air around her may do to her body.  The high hedge wall, along with the trees that create a canopy over the whole garden, seem to act like a barrier, blocking out the smells and sounds of hell. Y/N can smell various flowers and plants all around her, as well as the wonderfully earthy scent of dirt, and as she gazed around the natural enclosure, all she can hear is—

“Birds!” Y/N gasps in amazement as a small mockingbird lands on a tree branch, chirping happily.  Without tearing her gaze away from the small creature, she poses half a question to Harry. “How—?”

Harry, still standing at the edge of the garden after closing the door behind them, knows her question before she even finishes. “I created it for you last night.” He says simply, his green irises glued to her every movement. “After our discussion.”

Y/N turns in a slow circle as she does her best to take in every detail around her.  Birds, she realizes, aren’t the only creatures inside the haven; butterflies fly through the air, moving leisurely from flower to flower, and the chittering of squirrels scrambling up and down the trees mixed with the sounds of all the birds hidden in the leaves.  A rustling in the bushes catches Y/N’s attention, and she manages to catch a glimpse of the cotton tail of a bunny before it hides under the foliage. A small frown tugs on the corner of her lips as she wonders why the bunnies are hiding away—heavenly beings are usually beloved by any living creatures—but like before, Harry guesses her question before she can ask it.

“They, uh, they don’t like me.” He clears his throat halfway through his sentence, his eyes gauging her reaction to his words. “Living creatures aren’t very fond of demons.  Unlike your kind, we don’t smell like sunshine and cotton candy.”

Despite her delight in his gift, Y/N can’t help but roll her eyes a bit at his gentle ribbing. “I don’t smell like sunshine and cotton candy.” She says, reaching out a delicate finger to a butterfly floating near her.  The tiny creature lands on her finger easily, without hesitation, and Y/N notices how Harry doesn’t receive the same treatment from the other butterflies in the air.  In fact, now that she’s paying attention, she quickly realizes that every living being in the garden around them is steering clear of the king.  She can’t quite blame them, she thinks, her eyes flickering over Harry’s closed off posture, dark appearance, and powerful aura.  Everything about him radiates the energy of someone who is dangerous.  And yet, Y/N’s never felt safer in hell than she does in this moment.

At the thought of safety, a new fear crosses her mind “Are they safe here?” Y/N asks in a hushed voice. “The animals?  I don’t want them to get hurt, or…”

“This garden is its own ecosystem.” Harry finally makes his way away from the garden edge, taking Y/N’s hand in a reassuring manner.  The butterfly on her finger flutters away as he gets closer, but Y/N’s attention is once again focused on the feeling of Harry’s cool fingers on her flushed skin. “As long as they stay in here, they’re safe.  I swear it.” Harry says, sincerity clear in his voice.

Y/N’s heart pounds beneath her chest, every once of her senses alight as they bask in the fresh air around her. “Oh, Harry…” Her eyes widen again as she begins to catalogue all the varieties of plants growing around her.  Not only were there flowers galore—fragrant roses of all colours, sunflowers taller than her, fragrant lilies, vibrant tulips, bright daffodils—all of her favourites, she notes—but past a grove of trees is— “Are those berries?”

The dimples that Y/N so rarely sees in Harry’s cheeks appear as he smiles at her excitement. “Yes.” He leads her over, his own excitement growing with every step.  Y/N notices how he walks with care, making sure not to step on any flora with his heeled boots.  It’s strange, seeing the king of hell being so cautious, but she appreciates it nonetheless.

Harry points to the various bushes around them with a painted finger, naming them as he goes. “Strawberries, blueberries…everything you’ve missed.  There’s room for you to plant more, as well.  If you’d like.” He glances at her for a moment, an unreadable look in his deep green eyes before he turns back to the plants. “And I set up a few stone benches throughout the garden, so you can come sit here when you need a break.  There’s one under the willow tree, one by the rose bushes, and one by the—”

“The water.” Y/N whispers, voice barely audible.  If Harry was human, he wouldn’t be able to hear the quiet gasp leave her lips. “Harry…”

When Y/N’s hand slowly slips out of Harry’s to walk to the water feature at the edge of the garden, she feels as though she’s in a trance.  Perhaps it’s the water itself, she thinks, calling out to her to soak her hell-scorched skin within its cooling depths.  Somehow, Harry had managed to make a small waterfall flow down from the top of the hedge into a crystal clear pool, which babbled delightfully with the motion.  Although the pool isn’t large, it’s certainly big enough to swim in, and just the very thought of slipping into the water brings a feeling of relief to Y/N.  Peering over the edge, she can see a few fish swimming around in the crystal clear water, and a new feeling of gratefulness mixes with the previous.

So entranced in the small pond, Y/N doesn’t even realize that Harry has followed behind her, keeping his distance by a few feet so she can admire the water. “Do you like it?” He asks, the excitement in his voice seeping out in exchange for a nervous and unsure tone. “It’s not…done yet.  I just did it quickly, so it—I can still add more, or take out things you don’t like, or—”

“Harry.” Y/N turns to face him with tears in her eyes, a small shake of her head being the only action she’s capable of. “This is…wonderful.  I don’t know how to thank you…”

Harry’s own eyes grow softer as he notices the tears welled in Y/N’s lash line, reflecting the light that seems to emanate from her eyes. “You don’t need to thank me.” He keeps his voice low, as if he’s worried speaking loudly will break whatever it is that’s growing between them. “I…I want you to be happy here.  I want you to feel like…this is your home.”

“I do.” Y/N promises sincerely, taking both of his hands in hers as she speaks.  She kisses his knuckles, her warm lips a contrast against the cold metal and stones of his rings. “Thank you.  I truly mean it.  Thank you.”

A new look passes through Harry’s eyes, more unreadable than anything Y/N’s ever seen before.  His pink lips are just as much a mystery, no expression available on them as he pulls a hand from her grasp in order to cup her cheek.  Despite the callouses on his fingers, and the cool temperature of his skin, Y/N leans into his touch, pressing her cheek into his palm.

“You’re welcome.” Harry’s thumb brushes over Y/N’s cheek bone, and the motion is so delicate and tender that Y/N isn’t quite sure what to make of it. “You’re…you’re so very welcome.”

Although he’s giving a polite response to her thanks, Y/N can’t help but feel like something deeper sits underneath the simple phrase as Harry repeats it.  She’s welcome.  So very welcome.  But welcome where?  In this garden?  Into his life?  Into him? The very thought of a double meaning causes her heart to pound, and by the flicker in Harry’s eyes, she knows he can hear it.

The questions bubble to her lips, but catch themselves on the tip of her tongue as her eyes detect a movement in the corner of gaze.  The breeze around them (Y/N isn’t sure where the breeze is coming from, but she’s grateful for it nonetheless) move something she hadn’t noticed before.  All questions about Harry’s intention fade away as her eyes focus on the sturdy branch of an oak tree, and the carefully woven ropes and wooden seat that hang from it.  She drops his hands, stepping out of his grasp and towards the object of her attention. “Is that—is that a swing?”

A light chuckle rolls from Harry’s lips at the awe in her voice. “Yes.” He says, his amusement clear in the word. “Would you like me to push you?”

The offer is so casual, and yet, it brings a sudden shyness to Y/N’s reply. “Only if the king would like to.”

Harry bows his head, his crown sparkling atop his brown curls as he extends a hand. “It would be my honour, angel.”

Y/N matches his smile as she takes his hand once again.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Vaping - Elizabeth Olsen x reader x JJ Maybank

Masterlist Link

Summary; introducing your girlfriend to your best friend takes an interesting turn. Much evolves from a couple beers and a vape, JJ finally lets go

Warnings; mentions of nudes, vaping, underaged drinking, mentions of sex, some angst, swearing, mentions of cheating, angst, rejection, unreciprocated feelings

As the two of you kissed, a strong scent hit you, like a ton of breaks causing collateral as it fell from a building, though it smelled specifically of a pungent lemon scent. The pair of you pulled away, and there was a vaping blond stood above you, quirking his brow at the sight. It was no surprise that he had chosen to intervene with your casual date, you knew how he felt about your new relationship.

As the two of you kissed, a strong scent hit you, like a ton of breaks causing collateral as it fell from a building, though it smelled specifically of a pungent lemon scent. The pair of you pulled away, and there was a vaping blond stood above you, quirking his brow at the sight. It was no surprise that he had chosen to intervene with your casual date, you knew how he felt about your new relationship.

He was appalled to hear that you were committed to another, angry, jealous, he could go on about the emotions that were raging on inside of him. Time before you had even knew of Lizzie’s existence, you and JJ had a thing, more specifically, you had broken the pogue on pogue rule. The two of you would go at it with ample lust fuelling your every action, but the stick in the mud was, JJ had actually caught feelings.

When you had cut things off with him, claiming that you wanted to see other people, he was outraged, though he played it off as though it were no big deal. You remained close friends, and hardly noticed how he had been reading your messages to Elizabeth over your shoulder, nor how he frowned every time he heard of someone by that name. It pissed him off, she had his prized jewel, she didn’t have to fight for you like he had tried.

She was gifted your affection on a silver and clean platter, there was no dirty or guilt ridden scrubs that endured the profanity in your relationships, the two of you could be open with your turn of adoration for one another, but when JJ thought that he had you, it had to all be a secret. Even the pogues weren’t permitted an insight of your transactions, even if they had a keen eye for how the pair of you mysteriously tended to wander off together.

Kie, Pope and John B had been supportive when you told them that you had began to like someone, at first they thought it was JJ, which had gotten his hopes substantially up, but then it was revealed there was a girl in the picture. It didn’t matter if she was pretty, or kind, or out of the class laws of OBX, JJ resented her, even though he was a stranger to her and vice versa. But the one thing he liked about this unknown lover of yours had been how she made you happy, that was always his goal.

Without it being the matter that he was supposed to be concerned about, JJ thought hard about his own feelings. Yes, he tended to be a screw up, but he had an inkling that he was more than smitten with you. He was in love with you, and staring down at you with this new partner of yours, gave him great staking pain in his chest. “Why are you here Maybank?” In defends, JJ raised a cartridge of four beers to your view, the cock of your head being an invitation for him to take a seat.

He cleared his throat, as though that would be a primal factor in establishing his dominance, as he turned to your girlfriend. “How are you liking Outer Banks so far?” He handed her a beer, to which Lizzie willingly accepted with a thank you and a too kind to hate smile. “Most tourists think the views are nice.” He prompted to the conversation, watching a riddle spur in the brunette’s eyes.

“Oh, the views are more than fine.” She looked at you, running her green orbs down your form as she shamelessly checked you out in front of the boy. Lizzie cracked the lid from the bottle, weaving it off as she took a gulp from the liquor, draining her extraction of it like a champ. “I’m Elizabeth by the way.” Oh, he knew. A part of him wished that he in fact did not, the impartial knowledge of being aware of your exclusivity status had him crumbling from the inside out.

He had been getting into more fights with the kooks lately, taking his anger out on the prissy teens to establish some kind of reputation, even if that not carry the title of your boyfriend. “We get quite a few storms, like Agatha, she was a right bitch, didn’t hear from y/n for like a week. She was getting it on with Kelce, he’s from the other side of the island.”

“Figure Eight.” She noted, having recalled you mention it before. Your eyes widened, kicking him in the shin as you realised what he was doing. “How long ago was that, I know you said the power went out.” JJ realised what she was trying to do, it was her attempt at creating a time line of actions. She was building up a map of your entanglements with actions, and seeing if you could be held accountable for cheating.

“Just before the two of got together, which links to this funny story....” Oh no, no he wasn’t, was he? “We’d had our fun in the past, me and your girlfriend, and turns out when I heard about you two, we were still fucking.” Snatching the vape from him, you breathed it in, as though you were preparing for Lizzie’s reaction. She simply shrugged, taking the item from you and lulling in the acidic smoke that filled her lungs.

“That’s okay, we didn’t know each other too well then, and it seems there is quite the tight knit on the island.” God were you relieved, and endorsed in the sight of smoke blowing out of her nostrils as she took another swig of the liquidised joint. “I don’t have a problem with it as long as you don’t. What was your name again, I seem to have forgotten.” Forgotten on purpose it was more like, she wanted him out of the picture, he was simply a blockade in his way.

“Me?” He laughed lightly whilst pointing at himself. Yes him, the guy that was being an absolute dick and disrupting your supposed to be peaceful evening. “Oh, I’m JJ. I have no problem with you being here, in fact, I think it’s great. You’re just another hot chick that has caught y/n’s eye, when you go back to wherever the hell you came from, she’ll probably start hooking up with some random; wouldn’t be the first time, doubt it’d be the last.”

“I’m from California.” She stated unimpressed by JJ’s behaviour. You had mentioned him to her, filled her in on all valid details, but you didn’t say that he was this much of a dick. “And I don’t have to worry about that, I have my reasons.”

“Oh, because you trust her so much?” He laughed, taking a heavy slog of beer, hurriedly gulping it down as though it were some kind of coping mechanism. “She’s not trustworthy, she doesn’t give a fuck about any one’s feelings, she uses them for her own pleasure, and then makes things neutral between them.” Was he being over the top? Definitely. Were you astounded by the scene that he was causing? Sure as hell.

“J settle down.” You tried to coax him, but he swiftly stood, tears rimming the inclination of bud pain staked eyes. It was clear that he was not settling down; not in the slightest. He breathed in the vape once more, the lemony scent burning down through his chest for a moment, before he released the cloud out into the air, it swimming above like a wave out of the ocean.

“Don’t J me.” He mimicked you, rifling his destructive hands through his blond locks. “I don’t even know who you are, yet you took everything from me.” Lizzie felt a little bad for your friend, he was clearly experiencing symptoms of emotions towards you, it made her feel guilty for your shared secret.

“I’m moving JJ.” You revealed, his face becoming stoic with wide eyes. Lizzie squeezed your hand as you physically and mentally stood up to your best friend and past friend with benefits, causing him brash surprise that burned through his lungs. “To California.” You finished.

“With her?” He asked astounded, taking a step back as he dropped the glass bottle, allowing it to drop upon the dock, causing both you and Lizzie to jump from the smash. “I can’t believe you.” He breathed from his vape, turning away with a shake of his head.

“J.” You tried to call out for him, but he nevertheless continued on his path away. “Come on, don’t be ridiculous.” Him, being ridiculous? What a stupid annotation, he was allowed to be hurt. Yet it seemed that you wanted him to feel nothing, be a mute to emotions.

“I’m ridiculous?” He huffed, spinning around so that your noses touched, forcing you to throw your head back in shock. “You’re the one that ditched me, for some girl, that doesn’t know that you have a peeve of people not putting their ankle through the loop when they surf because otherwise it just hangs there, and how it makes you absolutely crazy when Kie dresses like a kook. Wait a moment, did you tell her that you were a kook?”

He laughed, noticing how a frown formed upon Lizzie’s face. “That’s truly amusing, lying about your wealth to attract the attention of a pretty girl, when you have a guy that absolutely adores you for who and what you are. He’s pogue and proud, and currently speaking in third person because he’s scared to openly admit that he’s in love with you.”

It was an unexpected reveal, that statement of how he truly felt, it unfortunately was not just a crush. “She didn’t tell me that she was a kook, you just want there to be issues between me and y/n, which there isn’t. So I suggest you continue walking, she is not interested in you, or your fucking feelings. We are dating, and she is moving with me, so grow up and deal with it.”

“Wait-“ your words ended as he continued walking. You knew he would take the news terribly, but you never guessed it would be him walking away, rather than the other way around. You were going to be 43 hours away from your home to spend time with the one that you were coiled in a relationship with. It was not how you wanted things to end, instead you wanted him to breathe his vape into your face and be like normal.

[angloie]

Beach trips and I'm Falling in Love • 2.5/2

When Annabeth meets a strange boy on vacation, she doesn't expect for their relationship to grow much. He's... terribly sarcastic. Cocky. A not-so great match for her witty self. But after learning he visits the same beach every year she does, their strange friendship blooms into something more.

Their realtionship isn't the only thing that blooms over the yearsー that meaning a certain raven-haired boy.

genre ; childhood friends to lovers, fluff, strangers(?) to lovers, exchanging letters au, percabeth mortal au.

warnings ; swearing, suggestive(?) themes.

prev.

That night, Annabeth can't fall asleep.

(Percy can't either, because he can't stop thinking about Annabeth and how he thinks he saw her back there.)

What is Rachel to him?

Annabeth thinks. Her mind is something like a broken recordー stuck playing the question on repeat. 

Not that she could judge, however, if Percy enjoyed her company more than hers, then that would be... Fine. Just fine. Rachel was probably more close to him after all these years unlike the blonde; who has been away for six years.

When Annabeth turns on her side to look at the shell seated stop her bedside table, she grimaces.

"You better make sure to return it!"

"I'll be waiting!"

Why does that make her frown?

The morning comes slow, slower than Annabeth would like, when the birds start chirping and evening comes to dawn after her sleep-deprived thoughts. 

She knows that Percy's curled up inside his bed, (though certainly not the cabin he used to occupyー there's no one next door) snoring like he always does. She knows that Percy doesn't know that she's here, and Annabeth also knows that he'll be asleep until promptly one in the afternoon.

Annabeth thinks she'll meet him around sooner or later.

The lull of waves crashing across the shore gives her chills. Mornings, she now realizes, are the best part of the day.

The rose gold sun comes down in tiny slivers along the sand.

Percy is loyal. He's a great friend, much more than Annabeth deserves, witty and sarcastic.

Percy is not hers. He never was in the first place, really; him with his cocky smile and his big heart. That heart of his can only hold so much, can't it?

She starts to wonder if she's in there.

The shell in her pocket suddenly feels heavy when Annabeth reaches for it, the chipped and cracked coat somehow still intact. She'll give it to him when the time comes of course. Just not now. Annabeth couldn't even muster up the courage if she wanted to. 

So, sandaled feet dug into the sand, she scans her surroundings.

At first glance the beach is beach is deserted, aside from a few lingering beach-goers that occupy the waves on their surfboards and the sand with their umbrellas.

It's quite tranquil on her ownー  under the morning sun and all. She's been to beaches near her house back home,e but nothing can really beat this view.

Her eyes dart towards the ocean, where the surfers ride on the waves, laughing and cackling whenever one of their friends falls face-first into the cold waters. She laughs a bit, too, the scene reminds her of how she always used to fall when she was learning to surf.

Speaking of the surfers... They all look like they're having a blast. You know, Annabeth might start to think that the raven-haired guy looks like Percy, that he has the same smirk as him, but that's just illogical.

Right?

It's only until that they lock eyes is when Annabeth freezes.

Same sea green. Same sparkle.

Same Percy.

And it's only until he freezes, eyes widening and stopping to stare, is when she thinks Oh shit.

Then he's starting to come over, and her legs start moving on their own. 

Away from him.

This can't be happening. It can't be. Not when she's not ready, when she's too nervous to even muster a word, not when Annabeth can't even look at him without her heart racing like never before. 

She starts to walk faster. Not so fast that it looks suspicious, but fast as to escape his gaze and go back to her cabin.

Annabeth can hear him saying he needs to ‘do something' to his friends. Annabeth can also hear his surboard digging into the sand, as well as his footsteps getting closer and closer. So close, that she thinks it'll only be a few steps longer until he reaches her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Her thoughts get even more rapid, Can't the universe just wait for a second?

Annabeth completely shuts down when someone grabs her wrist.

"Annabeth?"

It takes so much to not year away, to not run, to not speak. It takes so much to turn her head and look at him, more, though, when his tone is the most heart melting thing she's heard in a long time. (good timing, really, and just when she's been trying to get all the feelings she holds for him.)

"Percy." She breathes out, eyes widening when she finally gets a good look of him.

He's... Grown. 

His shoulders are broader. His hair, once unruly and messy, is exactly like in the previous pictures he's sent: Perfectly perfect and endearing. Annabeth notices that he towers over her figure quite a bitー what happened to the scrawny little Percy? Back then, she could easily look over him; but now? It's quite the opposite.

There’s an air around him, too, one that makes Annabeth gulp and her thoughts race.

Holy fuck.

Before she can let out a single word, she's engulfed into a bone crushing hug.

Thats pretty much when it all hits her.

Sure, he's wet and damp and smelling like saltwater and sweat, but she can't really pay any mind to that. Percy's warm. His touch is soft, gentle, just as Annabeth remembers. 

Why was she avoiding him in the first place?

Just when she thinks that it's fineー that she will not tear up over something like thisー her body betrays her and she starts to sink further, further into the hug.

Is she tearing up right now?

"I missed you," Percy mumbles against her head in a way that makes her heart pound dangerously against her rib cage. “So much.”

So just like that, Annabeth nearly falls for him all over again.

"You dumbass!" She pushes him off, hands fumbling through her pockets. "I m-missed you more." Hands come to wipe at her fresh tears. 

“H-here!” Annabeth sniffs as she hands him the one thing her mind has been lingering on non-stop: the shell.

He, blurry eyed and open mouthed, looks taken aback. For a second she thinks that he might be angry. That is, until he smiles.

“You kept it?” Percy asks. It's almost like he can't really believe it, like he didn't really expect her to keep it. 

"Of course I did, seaweed brain,” She gives a lopsided toothy smile. It doesn't really match her flushed face, but who's paying attention to that? 

When he looks at it fondly in his hands, Percy smiles to himself. “Its been too long, wisegirl." He looks her up and down. “You’ve changed."

She raises a eyebrow. "Like in a bad way?"

“N-no!” He's quick to correct himself. His looks the other way, trying to discreetly hide his blush. "No. Like i-in a... uhm- fuck." Percy covers his face.

"You've changed too.” Annabeth grins. “In a good way."

They smile each other for a second before someone from the shore line calls out Percy's name. He whips around, scowl growing on his face.

"I'll be back soon!" Percy rolls his eyes. He then turns to her.

"We should catch up," he says frantically, thoughts running on overdrive, "Have you been downtown yet? I'm staying at a new cabin a while away from hereー I'll take you there soon. Oh! And have you been to our spot? We can visit there later if you want.”

Annabeth cringes when the words fall from his lips. Our spot. She chews on her bottom lip. She can't really blame him for taking someone up there. Not even if she wanted to.

The rest of the day, and the next day after that, is bittersweet.

"I-Id be happy to.”

The sweetness is seeing Sally again. It's eating her famous blue cookies with Percy wearing bright smiles and her sporting the new sweater Sally crocheted. It's surfing for hours on end, it's playing with their dogs and meeting Mrs. O'Leary.

The sweetness is being with Percy once again; even if she does cringe when they go to their spot again.

The bitter, on the other hand, is meeting her.

Rachel.

Don't get her wrong. Annabeth was never much of a possessive or jealous person; and she still is not. She's level-headed, logical, and observative. Rachel is... Fine. She's crafty, Annabeth can tell by her paint-stained clothing and wry smile. She's pretty cool too. Rachel doesn't seem to have much of a problem getting along with her, so why does she feel so off about her?

"I'm Rachel," Annabeth remembers her smile quite clearly: It didn't quite reach her eyes. Or maybe Annabeth was just over-analyzing things? "It's nice to meet you, Annabeth!"

"Likewise." Annabeth gave a small smile. “Percy’s told me a lot about you."

“Oh, has he?” She giggled, "Well, I hope it's all good things." Rachel gave a teasing look towards Percy. 

Now thinking about it, Annabeth might have been a teeny-bit judgy. 

Percy, munching on a blue cookie, looks at her from his spot in his room. He narrows his eyes at her.

"I couldn't help but notice," He starts, as if reading her mind. "That you were a little on edge about Rachel.”

"Was I now?” She lazily questions, head hanging off his bed. 

“I think so." Percy hums.

"I was not," Annabeth scoffs. “I was just... Cautious."

"What's there to be cautious about?” He asks, spinning three times on the chair near his desk. He pauses to let the dizziness swirl his vision before coming back to look at her. the dog beside him, Mrs. O'Leary wags her tail lazily.

She sighs. "Nothing, I guess? It's just... Y'know what? Nevermind.”

"Spit it out.”

"No!”

"Yes!”

“No!”

“I’ll make you a container of blue cookies for the next three days?"

"...Fine!" Annabeth breathes after a beat.

She stretchesh her arms high above above her head. “What... W-what is she to you?”

Percy freezes, and she instantly goes into a panicky state. “Actually- Ignore that. Thats a stupid question so you don't need to answer, I just really-”

“Aww, is my little Annie jealous?" He unironicaly coos, “Don’t worry about it. Rachel's great."

Annabeth notices that Percy says her name in a intimate way. She notices how heat instantly flushes her face. She also notices that how he never answers her question in a way she'll understand.

Now that she's left hanging, Annabeth really can't stop more questions from flowing in her mind. 

Annabeth thinks that she's really been underreacting about Percy and his air of coolness. or maybe likeability?

Her arms flop down, and Mrs. O'Leary woofs.

Popularity?

Whatever it is, anyone can tell that Percy's much more than the dorky lame kid that used to be.

The group of girls that giggle and twirl their hair as they stare at him from their spot under an umbrella can surely see that, too.

It's not even those girls (who for the fact are pretty, much prettier than Annabeth) that can see that. Her neighbours talk about the 'handsome and nice young man that helped me carry my groceries'. (Guilty as chargedー the one and only Percy) or the 'Attractive boy who surfs early in the morning'.

The grannies at downtown's farmers market even gossip behind his back and treat him like some sort of Greek god with a perfectly structured jawline with a fit build and coy smile.

Oh, and did she mention he's as hot as the fucking sun?

(Which he, Annabeth thinks, owns up to.)

(She's really whipped for him.)

But he's respected her boundaries so far, so she'll keep her M rated thoughts to herself. But it's so fucking hard to not stare when he, clad in nothing but loose swimming shorts, shows up to her room at the crack of dawn.

"Looks like you're the talk of the town," Annabeth says teasingly as they settle into the sand. The umbrella provides the cool shade desperately need, to which Annabeth relishes in. “Is seaweed brain..." She feigns a fake gasp. “Actually likeable now?”

Percy threatens to shove a handful of sand down her throat, and she shuts up.

"Whatever," He mutters under his breath, eyes looking away from hers. For some reason he's avoiding looking at her. Annabeth thinks he's just embarrassed, but the way Percy steals glances at her when she's not looking, says otherwise.

"So where's Rachel?” She absent-mindedly asks. Not that she genuinely cares, or whatever, but theres really nothing else that occupies her mind. 

“Around,” He replies. "She told me she's going shopping in the next town for some swimsuits. Or something.”

"Ah."

A seagull screeches from above.

“Wanna see who gets in the water first?"

Annabeth already jolts upwards into a sprint towards the shoreline. "Hey! No fair!”

So the next while is spent with nothing but firendly smiles and secretive glances from Percy, surfing and swimming and having the most fun they've had together in a while. Annabeth grabs his ankle from under the waves, and she thinks that that might be the loudest scream she's ever heard.

Percy, mind stuck with thoughts on revenge, tried to come up with a scare of his own, until his lame scare comes out as throwing a peice of seaweed on her forehead.

 “Lameass!" She laughs, popping her head above the water.

“Smartass!” He yells back, eye twitching and tone sarcastic.

It isn't until the sun sets and the crabs crawl back into their caves is when they both flop back into the sand. Tired. Exhausted. Muscles sore and skin sunburnt.

For a solid thirty minutes it's just comftorable silence as the waves set the soundtrack. Along with the occasisonal him of the ocean, or even the cries of the cicadas back where the beach grass is.

For a solid thirty minutes, Annabeth thinks that she couldn't be more happier.

For a solid thirty minutes, all is calm, all is well, and nothing could be more perfect.

She closes her eyes for a minute thinking that she can spare one nap. Thinking that Percy will just wake me up, so it's fine if I snooze off, right? 

Annabeth dozes off with thoughts of him.

When she wakes up, Pery isn't beside her.

Nor is he on the beach.

For a hot minute Annabeth freaks out, squinting through the darkness to search for his figure. The lantern her doesn't really provide much light, let alone three feet away from her.

But then she sees that his surfboard isn't wedged into the ground, and his things are still there.

So where is he?

Oh. Annabeth thinks lamely to herself when she spots the figure swaying with the waves atop his surfboard. There he is.

It's illogical, really, for her to go after him.

If you don't go, that Rachel girl's got him forever, her head prods, you'll lose him forever.

It's even more illogical when Annabeth grabs her surfboard with a determined look; sandy hair and all.

The waves are calm tonight. No huge crashing of the chilled water, no raging seas or bitterly cold air. The clouds enclose the pale moon, only tiny beams managing to escape. She thinks it casts a blue hue to everything.

Using her arm to paddle her way over, Annabeth catches a glimpse at the stars.

Gods, the stars.

They're brightー brighter than the city that isー and bigger, too. They shine in a way that leaves Annabeth breathless.

Percy hums when she closes in next to him. His limbs dangle off of the surfboard and into the cool waters, occasionally shifting to keep steady. She hums back in reply.

A small wave laps across the shore.

 “That's Perseus.” Annabeth says lazily. She lays down, too, hair splayed across the board. "The constellation, I mean.”

“Perseus, huh?" Percy follows where she points: diagonal from the pair. “Like my name?"

"Like the Greek hero Perseus.” She murmurs quietly.

“You've told me about him." He recalls, "He slayed Medusa and saved Andromeda, right?"

"Mhm," Annabeth nods. "He also had a happy ending. That is, for most Greek heroes.”

She smiles to herself, and Percy can't really think of anything more beautiful than her.

Believe it or not, Percy is good at hiding things. 

Like when he hides the secret stash of snacks under his bed from his mom, (for three years straight and running) or when he hid Mrs. O'Leary when she was just a pup in his closet.

He likes to think that he's good at hiding his feelings too.

Feelings about Annabeth, of course.

Not that he really has anything for herー it's just that whenever he sees her he gets a fluttery feeling in his stomach, his voice gets all awkward, his mind instantly goes to how fucking gorgeous she looks, and how she practically radiates coolness and calm.

Okay. So what if he's head over heels for her?

Percy thinks it started a while ago.

He thinks it started when Rachel first called him seaweed brain.

“-Seaweed brain,” it falls from her lips on a warm spring day, when they're sitting in his room while it rains. 

Percy freezes to look at her. "What?"

“I said It raining cats and dogs out there,” Rachel repeats, “Seaweed brain."

When she catches the slightly shocked look on his face, she frowns. “Something wrong?”

"No,” He murmurs, looking down. "Actually- kinda. that nickname just threw me off a bit, I guess.” Percy give a lopsided smile.

Annabeth only calls me that, he thinks. It feels weird when you say it.

“Oh." She deadpans. “Should I not call you that then? I saw that Annabeth girl call you that, like, a ton of times in one of her letters.” Her eyebrows raise, and Percy reels.

“You were reading my letters?" He frowns. “...Whatever. The nickname- its kind of a personal thing. You know, between me and, uh... her. It'd be cool if you didn't say it.”

“Oh. Okay.” Rachel huffs.

Somehow, Percy never labeled it as love.

Percy didn't label it as love when Annabeth became the ‘nothing!' that came out of his mouth when Sally asked why he was smiling so much. Not when he couldn't stop staring at her in her swecause fuck, she looks so good. Not when Percy was confused on why his love for her became something more.

But that night, that one single night, when Annabeth came to join him under the stars, is when he thought otherwise.

With sunkissed sunburnt skin, 

lips cracked and dry,

moonlight against her face,

The last day of Annabeth's vacation comes on a sunny humid day with the clouds nowhere to be seen. 

He did label it love.

There isn't an air of despair, however, Annabeth'll be back next year for a solid week in winter. College would be a pain, so she'll have one last vacation with her family before she starts her career.

For some reason Percy isn't sad when the news comes to him on her college. New Rome, a prestigious school in the middle of both their cities. All he gives is a coy grin; she can't wrap her mind around hit quite yet.

 "You got plans tonight?” Percy asks suddenly, his voice echoing through Annabeth's room. 

“No.” She tilts her head. “Why? Got something planned?"

“Yeah, actually.” He grins. “We're going to a party of a friend of mine.”

“What?" Annabeth nearly falls off her bed, eyes widened and mouth agape. A party? Tonight? 

“Yup! You better get ready, 'cuz we're leaving in...” Percy checks the clock on her bed side table. "Two hours. See ya!" Is all he says before he hopes out of her window. 

Annabeth nearly screams, but remembers that he's been climbing and jumping out of her window for years now. she lets out a ragged sigh of relief.

"Fuck you!” She yells out to his figure, already dashing away. He turns around, sly smirk on his face.

“Only if you watch!" 

And then he's gone, leaving Annabeth with a red hot face and a flustered mess.

Fuck.

.

.

The next two hours is- um, well...

Chaotic.

Just plain chaotic.

Her who closet is thrown into her bed in a contemplation what to wear. Light or dark? Whats the occasion? How much people are attending? What's the setting?

You're overthinking things again, Annabeth's mind jolts. Just throw something on!

Along with chaotic, she would also describe the scene as a fever dream. 

She opts to wear a black bodycon dress with stringy ties and a loose and light jacket. Annabeth can't really deceive the rest of her look- her mind is all gushy and mushy.

So here she is, standing in front of the booming house, (Percy didn't even bother to drive here there, the jerk) hands fidgeting like she can't stop.

(She can't.)

Annabeth takes a deep breath. She won't be here for a while, so whats she so afraid about? Sure, there's somone puking in a bush that she wants no part in, and there might be concerning sounds coming from inside the huge building, but who's paying attention to that?

Before she can back out, a voice calls out her name.

"Wisegirl!" Percy beams, “Hey!”

“Seaweed brain.” Annabeth crosses her arms as a her bottom lip juts out. "We're were you?"

“Lets not focus on that." He nervously laughs. “But c'mon inside. I want you to meet a few people.”

"Hm?”

The house is just as bad as she thought.

Red Solo cups everywhere, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes especially strong near the kitchen and couches. Bodies bump into her here and there like some sort of mosh pit. They don't even apologize, instead murmuring something with a tipsy tone.

"Grover!" Percy calls a guy over. "Don't you remember Annabeth?”

"Annabeth?" Grover, what she can assume is his friend, looks over to them. His eyes light up when he meets her gaze.

"It's been a while!" Annabeth smiles. Grover! It's been a minute since she's seen him, back when they were all kids. She fondly remembers beach trips with him back then, eating popsicles on her cabin stairs and all.

“It certainly has,” He sighs happily.

Percy then introduces her to many others: Hazel, a bright girl with a even brighter smile, Frank, a towering guy with a friendly touch, Jasonー a blonde guy with a oddly stapler shaped scar on his lip, Piper, a bubbly girl with a flirtatious smile. 

She'd go on about more of them, but at that point Annabeth would be rambling.

"Have you seen Percy around?" Annabeth asks to Grover when she loses him in the bustling crowd.

He nods his head no, and someone tugs on her arm.

“C'monnnn," A girl she met earlier drunkenly tugs harder, “We’re playing truth or dare downstairs!"

She wants do pull away, say no, but then Annabeth spots him in the crowd with people slung around him.

By the looks of it, they're flirting with him, words forming and lips ruling into flirtatious smiles. They touch him in ways that make her cringe. 

Annabeth hates herself for frowning and continuing to stare. The worst part, thinks, is that he's not trying to pull away. Nor is he denying their actions. In fact, he's indulging in it. 

Shit. She shouldn't be thinking this way. Percy's popular and nice. He's bound to attract a few people, and he's not hers.

Annabeth was never the jealous type, but for now she can let the horriblefeeling in her stomach slide just this once. 

She accepts the girl's prodding with a feignged smile.

[hargrove-mayfields]

Harringrove April Day 3- Spring Break!

Billy never really did spring break. He thought it was just a stupid way to flaunt that you were rich and had no responsibilities, neither of which were luxuries he got to experience, and quite frankly, for a lot of kids, it was.

But his senior year, the tops of the class plan a huge (and expensive) trip to Lake Tahoe for the week they have off school, as in the one in California, and he just cannot pass by that opportunity. A school sanctioned trip back to his home state, that’s like a dream come true.

Of course, he’s still got to scrape together the funds to get there, because his dad sure as eggs wouldn’t be paying for a spring vacation that cut into Easter Sunday, but that should be easy enough, considering his best friend is basically a walking bank account who had already been trying to convince Billy to come with him for weeks before they’d announced the trip.

He was pretty sure at this point that Steve would cave almost immediately, and he’s right, because he’s not even halfway through asking him how he was planning on getting to Lake Tahoe before he’s telling Billy that they should fly up together. To Steve, it’s a matter of a couple hundred dollars versus his entire social life being in the toilet.

Or at least that’s what Billy thinks, and that’s exactly what Steve wants him to think, because there’s a third, unconsidered option that he’s just helplessly in love with his best friend and would do just about anything if it meant he got to spend a little extra time with him.

Except when they get there, they don’t follow the crowd of their peers to the hotel they’d all booked, because this is California, the Golden state, the place where Billy Hargrove was born and raised. Their trip was not going to be wasted on skiing with a bunch of drunk kids they hardly even liked. Not when Santa Monica was so beautiful this time of year.

They rent a car, and Billy gives Steve the grand tour of the state for the seven hours they’re in the car. It’s exhausting, it’s cramped, but it’s worth every second to see Billy so proud of the place where he grew up. Steve genuinely thinks he couldn’t be any more in love with him by the time they’re stopping by the Santa Monica Pier in the late afternoon.

Even so late in the day it’s warm in California, nothing at all like a Hawkins spring, and Steve can tell why this is where Billy thrives.

They don’t have long on the beach before the sun starts to go down, but that’s not really why Billy brought him here anyways. He wanted to see Steve’s pretty face lit up by the amusement park lights after hours, wanted to see him smile when they played games in the arcade and revel in the flush on his cheeks from the alcohol he knew how to get without an ID.

They’re walking side by side down the Santa Monica Pier when Steve stops, leaning against the railing to look out over the water. “You know I’ve never even seen the ocean before?”

Billy sidles up beside him, leaning back on his elbows and lolling his head to the side to look at Steve. “Well maybe I can take you surfing tomorrow, pretty boy. We’ve got a whole week up here, bet you’d be a pro after just a few hours.”

Steve agrees, looking away from the water to lock eyes with Billy, a confident little smile on his lips. “I did used to be a swimmer.”

“That right?” Steve nods, and turns back to the view, the sun going down behind the shore line reflecting in his brown eyes. Billy smiles and hums in his throat, “I’d like to see you in the water.”

His smooth talk makes a flush creep up on Steve’s cheeks, and he chuckles, pushing off from the railing. “Come on, B, it’s getting dark. I wanna see this Ferris wheel you told me all about.”

Their tickets cost five dollars a piece, and they board after a short wait, the line much smaller than Billy remembered it being from trips taken up here in the summers of the 1970s.

Every last time the wheel would stop on the way up to let more people board, Steve would grab Billy’s hand, the ride much bigger than he’d anticipated, and Billy’s heart melted a little each time.

At the top, his breath hitches, and Billy asks him, “So? You like it, Stevie?”

“Yeah, it’s- beautiful.” The only Ferris wheel he’d ever even been on was the dinky, broken up one at the summer festival Hawkins held each year, and the view on that thing was just trees and more trees. It was a breathtaking sight.

“Mhm.” Billy rests his chin in his hand and leans his elbow against the bar that’s holding them in the seat, and watches Steve with hooded eyes.

Steve looks downright bashful when he notices, “What’re you looking at?”

“Just enjoyin’ the view.” Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s blushing, looking down to hide a smile, so Billy sits up straighter, putting a hand on Steve’s cheek and swiping his thumb over his bottom lip. “It’s the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

Steve scoffs in a modest way, like Billy’s words are too much, and it’s cute. He leans over, so Billy meets him halfway, catching his lips in a chaste kiss. He tastes like cheap mixed drinks and California dreaming. One of Steve’s hands finds its place in his hair, tangling in soft blonde curls, and he brings himself even closer, until the ride moves again, and he startles, pulling away with a gasp.

Billy chuckles, and presses another quick kiss to his hairline. He couldn’t be more glad that he was so vulnerable to peer pressure, that the ride was so long and Steve such a romantic.

Especially knowing they had a whole six days left in California before they had to go back to Hawkins, because he still had lots he wanted to show him.

[bumbershots]

LOVEFOOL

Author’s note: HELLO! This is my part for the Valentine’s Day challenge that @1dffchallenges put together. Make sure to keep an eye out for any other pieces published by other authors. Enjoy! And happy Valentine’s weekend! (:

Summary: Harry agrees to go on a blind date set up by his friends in hopes that it will help him move on from an unrequited love.

Word count: 3K

Challenge prompt and dialogue: blind date set up by friends. “I don’t want this to end...”

There’s a first for everything. Harry’s had his fair share of them at the age of twenty-seven. First time on an aeroplane at the tender age of six for a family holiday in Rome. First kiss on his home town’s park with someone he deeply cared about. First time in a recording studio. First time going on tour. The first night spent alone in his new and barely furnished home. The first morning he laid eyes on the girl next door. The ugly heartbreak after she got married, certainly felt worse than his first one.

Life is full of firsts, Harry knows that, and he wishes to have been the first to sneak his way into Jane’s heart, all those years ago.

"You love her" it almost sounds like an accusation coming from Jeff, though the last thing he wants is to make Harry feel guilty. The musician doesn't reply, he shrugs, eyes never leaving her no matter how deep into the ocean she seems to be. "Does she know?" Harry shakes his head in denial. "Did you bring her along just so you could tell her?"

"I enjoy writing music with her, that's why she's here," his tone leaves no room for more questions, the manager knows and sighs defeated. Harry stands from his spot on the beach and heads back inside the house, alone.

Is he being that obvious?

He reviews the past few days and wonders where he slipped, nothing rings any bell. Harry completely and conveniently forgets how he doesn't nag her for having a smoke after dinner, instead he just opens the window and stands close to it, or how he's been making her a cuppa everyday at noon. But it was the time when Jane asked him to help her French plait her hair when something clicked in Jeff's brain, the way Harry beamed at such a simple request left no room for questioning. Yet he asked him, because there was that tiny chance of it all being part of the manager's imagination, but when he looked back on it, the little things now made more sense to him and in a way he always knew.

They've been in Port Antonio for two weeks now and everything was going just dandy, Harry was writing more than ever, the first week he had a new song every day, he even polished the old ones and had a tune for his favourites, thanks to Mitch's help. When Jeff Azoff got there earlier this week, he spent a good two hours talking to Jeff Bhasker about how much of a good idea the trip was.

"Harry is on a writing spree." He complimented Azoff's client, it was nothing but the truth. However the reason for it all, was now heading back to the house to join the others after a good surfing session.

Jane went straight to take a shower, ready to rinse all the ocean's saltiness from her body, thinking how wonderful it would've been if her own worries could be washed away with her tangerine shampoo. In contrast to Harry's good spirits and excellent mood, her own cloud of trouble seemed to follow her all the way from London. She still hadn't heard from her husband, so it is safe to say he was still upset about her going away to work in Harry's album. It was impossible for her to forget the argument they had, at first thinking it was a joke on his side, insinuating that they were ‘shagging behind his back’.

After her shower, wearing comfortable clothes, Jane joins the others for supper but keeps to herself, still with the dichotomy about calling Alex or letting him be. He will eventually come to his senses and apologise. 

What if he doesn't? 

The thought alone of her clothes being packed in boxes by the time she gets back home almost makes her cry, perhaps she can call or text him just to test the waters. It is ridiculous how she seems to be more mature about this than him.

"Penny for them?" Harry's voice brings her back to the now empty dining room, the voices from the rest of their party can be heard from the living room.

"God I'm sorry H, lost myself out there for a moment," she is embarrassed, with him, the others and herself for letting this situation get under her skin. And she's also avoiding talking about it, with Harry or anyone. "I was just thinking about the tempo for Sweet Creature."

"Liar," he hates to be shut down by her more than anything. "Is it because I didn't let you eat the last peanut drop the other day?" It would've been easier for her to say it was, than to address the actual reason. But Harry hasn't lied to her, ever.

"No love, although I was a bit hurt because of that, it's actually this thing with Alex we are, I don't know, he was upset with me and said some things," Jane couldn't finish, her speech was cut short by a quiet sob and Harry was quick to pull her from the chair onto his lap and hold her tight. His own heart speeding at the sight of her distressed.

"When was the last time you spoke to him?"

"Two weeks ago." Her voice barely whispers on his chest, "he's being a wanker to be honest, just because he's not going on tour with any of his bands I'm supposed to be a stay at home wife!"

"Why don't you explain this to me, from the beginning, please?" He asks rubbing her back soothingly, and she spills it all, the having kids now or never argument, to her wanting to have a proper wedding party and finally the latest fight where Alex suggested an affair going on between her and Harry, the latter had to do his best not to put the option on the table, since her husband so kindly suggested it. Might as well, he thought. "It all sounds like a big misunderstanding, I know you're a great communicator sunshine, so it baffles me that you've let this go on for so long." He's got a point.

"You're right, but I feel like it's his turn, you know?" Jane's done weeping, but remained on her friend's lap and arms, head resting on his shoulder. "He's always forward, mature, a proper thirty year old except when it comes to arguments where we ought to reach an agreement," she plays a bit with the cross hanging from his neck, a scowl on her pretty face. "Like with the children thing, we only stopped arguing when I said that maybe in two more years we could have one instead of, you know, my early thirties." It's good that she can't see how upset Harry is.

"You gave into that one, he should do the same but it's his choice," Harry sighs and can't believe what he's about to say. "Take the day off tomorrow, call him or FaceTime, Skype whatever you choose, but have a proper conversation with him." She wants to argue and say it's not necessary to be absent the whole day, she can spare a few hours. But she will need time to think about what to say, make her point clear so they are on good terms until she goes back to London.

"Fine, but if he is still acting like a dickhead afterwards, I'm not going to let it into my head anymore, we will continue to bask in this great work environment going on here." Jane states, pulling away from his embrace just enough to give him that stern look she uses when trying to make a point, and Harry nods with a warm smile, the one she never gets tired of seeing. "I'll call it a night now, gonna be asleep in seconds now that I've got that out of my chest." She stands from his lap, missing his warmth instantly. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime honey pie." Harry says before leaving a kiss on her left hand that burns her skin from then till morning.

Jeff joins the musician in the dining room right after the girl walks away to her room, he takes a seat across from him and scrutinises the look of adoration his friend still sports once she is out of the room.

"She'll never know, if you never tell her." Jeff is right, but the thought alone of going through that again scares him to death. Or so he says, because there's a part of him that is fond of the thrill it makes him feel.

"It's not like I haven't tried, just last year I told her," Harry remembers that night vividly, how pretty she looked even with her makeup all smudged under her eyes. "I'm not sure if she heard, it was too loud like where we were at the time." He was also pissed out of his mind.

"H, there's nothing wrong with being in love."

"I'm not saying it is, but even if she did love me I– I would find a way to hurt her. Anyway. she's happily married now, it's too late." Saying it out loud doesn't hurt him any less like he thought it would. Harry sighs in defeat before rising from the chair, "she's everything to me, I wouldn't mess with her head by confessing my feelings, deep down I always knew she deserved better and now she has it and that's good enough for me." The musician disappears through the corridor where his everlasting love did just a few minutes ago, he paused for a moment outside her room, pondering whether to barge in and just follow his instincts, kiss her like he should've done after winning that award back in 2014.

Harry shakes his head and goes straight to his room, he reminds himself that it was time to let her go. It's for the best. He is not good enough for her, he can't even write a song for her, about her. He mustn't love her that much then.

What Harry doesn't know is that he can't write a song about her because he loves her too much, the poor lad can't even figure out where to start. But he's about to get rid of that curse in a day or two, he just needs to be patient.

The reward for it came, all of a sudden Harry wrote too many songs about her until she inevitably became aware of the situation they were in. Harry vowed to stay away from Jane’s life after recording the album. He dated people that didn’t remind him of her, and even moved temporarily to Japan. But despite all his efforts, four years later Harry still finds himself thinking about her, everything seems to be tainted by her. The music he adores, the new dinner recipes he cooks, the books he chooses to read.

Completely out of options he agreed to this blind date his friends set up for him.

He arrives at the modest restaurant they so kindly chose for the occasion. “All you have to do is wear something nice and show up.” Alexa reminded him over the phone last week.

This is a new first for him, it is also exciting, to take a seat at a table for two conveniently placed at the back, pretend to pay attention to the menu but let his green eyes avert to whoever approaches. Harry is having a great time, he knows that soon his date will arrive. He wonders what they’ll be like.

According to Alexa and Pixie, the person arriving is the perfect match for their young friend. Harry can only hope they like Vietnamese cuisine because that’s apparently this place’s special offer this week. If he’s lucky enough the date will agree to share a starter and perhaps two main courses, that way he doesn’t have to choose between one or the other.

“Here’s your table.” Harry hears the waiter speak and his gaze meets a very familiar figure standing beside him. It can’t be.

“Excuse me, there must be a mistake, I’m waiting for someone else.” Harry protests.

The waiter shakes his head and shows him the notepad with some specifications written down. “Nothing wrong, got specific instructions from Miss Chung, a lady will come in to say is here for Geldolf’s blind date, you are sitting at the table they reserved. I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.” He is quick to explain and disappear.

Jane sits because there is no way she can stand any longer, her legs are about to give out from the commotion. This was not the blind date she was expecting either. It’s been at least four years since she last saw Harry. The night after he finally admitted being in love with her, waiting for a reaction, anything from her, after what seemed like hours but was only ten minutes later, he walked out of her house and entire life, leaving her confused and upset.

“How’ve you been?” she asked after confirming that Harry wasn’t going to up and leave.

“Pretty fantastic, until you arrived.” He’s never spoken to her like that before, with so much affliction in his tone. “What are you doing here?”

“I was set up on a blind date by Pixie—

He interrupts her. “That’s fucking convenient, did you all went to this much trouble, just to mock me? I thought they were my friends, you know, that even after everything, they cared about me.” Harry stops, his voice breaks, he’s so angry, hurt and confused by the situation. “Did your husband come along, to witness my humiliation too?” He looks around, trying to find the man of Jane’s dreams.

“I wouldn’t know if he’s here, haven’t seen him since we got divorced three years ago.” She snaps before hiding behind the menu from a gobsmacked Harry.

The words he’d been waiting to hear were finally out of her mouth. Unlike the million times he dreamt about this happening, Harry is not sweeping her off her feet and running away into the sunset holding her hand. Instead he reaches out to touch her arm, testing the waters. He waits for her to lower the menu and surprisingly there are no tears in her eyes. Perhaps only a bit of sorrow that is quickly replaced with confusion, at how fast her heart raced after Harry’s touch.

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is back to oozing the tenderness he reserves just for her. Jane nods.

“But can we share a rice bowl and Pho noodle soup?” 

“Yes, and dessert too!” Even after four years Harry’s sweet tooth hasn’t changed, Jane sighs before the waiter is back to take their order.

Keeping a conversation between the two of them is not hard at all, even if it is an awkward topic —her not so recent divorce. “We didn’t have anything in common anymore, there were so many fights every single day. When I finally suggested the separation, he seemed relieved and I felt like a complete fool.” Jane remembers the sigh of comfort that came out of the man she once loved with all her heart before that rainy afternoon, when she finally decided that she’d had enough. “He left that night, hadn’t seen him since, his lawyer took care of everything,” a sour laugh escapes her lips, Harry’s eyes are full of sympathy for her. “I’m sorry for ruining your blind date, I know you’ve never been to one before.” Of course she did, she knows him better than anyone.

“This has to be the greatest date I’ve ever been to.” He speaks without a second thought. 

All those years Harry spent away from Jane were not going to be in vain. He was not going to neglect the feelings he still had for her. That affection he felt for her, only her. Harry shifts in his seat, this is not at all how he planned it, in a restaurant full of people on fucking Valentine’s day. It almost seemed like a tacky move.

But after all this time of pining for her, hating her and himself at times. Harry was brave enough, it was now or never, he didn’t want to wait any longer, not after his friends schemed and executed this soppy plan to bring the two soulmates together. Before she could take the final bite of dessert that Harry kindly left for her. The world stopped.

“I don’t want this to end...” Harry says with a dimpled smile she can’t look away from. “I’d like to take you out on a second date, a third, fourth, fifth. Believe me when I tell you, I have planned up to a thousand of them.” He takes her hand in his and can feel her pulse race along his own. The smile splits his face again, because he knows, he feels, he sees it in her beautiful eyes. “Janey, you’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold on to. I know there is a name for this emotion, I’ve written songs about it, but now I don’t think it’s a word big enough for us.”

She squeezes his hand and breaths out a laugh, tears of joy brimming out of her eyes. “Let’s call it love, until we come up with a better name for it.” Harry agrees and just then, Jane brings up his hand to her lips. 

His skin tingles where she kisses him for the first time and he beams at her.

There’s a first for everything, and although it feels like it for Jane and Harry, this isn’t by any means the first time they confess their love for each other. It was always there, in every laugh they shared, every song they wrote together, every touch. It was on Harry’s unwavering devotion, on his impatience and selfless actions throughout the years.

They were bound to be together, their story didn’t begin on that initial blind date, it did years ago after he caught a glimpse of her shiny black hair on the morning she moved into the house across the street.

Harry drives her back to her new flat on the other side of the city, enjoying every minute of the long ride, happy to hear her ramble about her newest obsession with romantic novels and burst out laughing after Jane confesses that sometimes she doesn’t finish reading books she likes, just to pretend the story keeps going. With a quick kiss to the back of her hand he completely agrees.

No tale is more compelling than one that never ends.

[yoonzeeno]

of fire stones and icy waves.  ━━ kmg x hvc

part one of the svt x pokémon!au — kanto.

❀ summary: broke pokémon trainer kim mingyu decides to go on an adventure to look for a fire stone. vernon unwillingly accompanies him. ❀ pairing: mingyu x vernon (brotp) ❀ word count: 4.7k ❀ genre(s): adventure, friendship, slice of life, slight action ❀ warning(s): none, i guess? lmk if there are any!

━━ a/n: my first fic is finally done! i planned this to be around 1-2k words but it's pokémon and seventeen - two of my favourite things together, so i couldn't help myself. anyways, lmk what you think and i hope you enjoy it! i finished this at five thirty in the morning so pls pls pls love it :(

━━ update: updated the poster bcs this one sucks less than the previous one.

the sun was shining bright and the weather was perfect, but sadly mingyu had to ignore the euphoric feeling of his feet sinking on the sand and rush towards the ocean. behind him was vernon, also running, but with untied shoes.

“i’m gonna kill you, hyung!” vernon cried.

“you can kill me once i get that fire stone!” this made absolutely no sense to vernon, but he didn’t have any energy left when it’s being used to run for his life.

once they reached the shore, mingyu motioned at vernon, hands moving frantically. “quick! quick!” vernon fumbled at his belt, looking for the right poké ball, before finally taking his dive ball — a blue ball with white waves etched on the upper half of the ball.

“lapras, go!” he shouted, aiming the ball towards the ocean as he ran before pressing the button twice — once to enlarge the ball, and once more for lapras to come out. an energy filled silhouette emerged from the half-opened ball, and a blue dinosaur-like pokémon finally solidified. her front side was mostly cream colored, and her ears were tightly curled. she also had a short horn on her forehead, four flippers with the foremost flippers bigger than the hind, and on her back was a heavy, gray shell, covered in blunt knobs. she floated in the ocean, letting out a beautiful cry.

mingyu braked in front of lapras in fear he would actually hurt the pokémon. his sudden brake caused vernon to crash into his back, which also resulted in mingyu falling face first into the sand. lapras watched them, letting out a cry in confusion.

vernon rose while groaning at the pain on his nose, while mingyu pressed his palms on the ground to lift himself up, spitting out sand from his mouth in the process. as soon as vernon was able to stand up, he hurried to his lapras, rubbing his neck to soothe him down. lapras closed her eyes and hummed. lapras was well-known for having a beautiful voice.

“vernon, we got no time!” mingyu said as he ran to hop onto lapras’ back, but vernon stopped him.

“don’t ride her before she says its okay! she’s going to throw you off her back!” mingyu clucked impatiently, feet tapping on the ground.. when lapras started nodding, vernon stepped onto her shell, before hauling himself upwards. as he finally settled down, he reached out to help mingyu on, and with vernon’s help, the older kid hauled himself upwards, settling himself behind vernon, vernon’s small backpack separating them. mingyu leaned on his backpack, gasping for air as vernon pat lapras’s neck twice. lapras let out another cry before she finally started surfing the sea.

“so, are you going to tell me why you banged on my door at seven in the morning?” vernon asked once the two of them calmed down after the morning run. lapras was surfing quite speedily, the wind hitting them felt refreshing on their necks. vernon’s lapras was smart — having braved the ocean before letting herself be caught by vernon. she had memorized the seas of kanto by heart, so it only took vernon to tell her the destination for her to surf towards the island.

mingyu sighed, patting his poké ball for reassurance. “i have to get a fire stone.” vernon raised an eyebrow at him.

“and… you have to wake me up at seven in the morning for that?” he asked. mingyu thanked god vernon was a pacifist. he knew if that was any other person, he would be in big trouble already.

“well, tomorrow’s the tide. and i have to get it before the tide starts or it’s gonna take a lot of time and i don’t know if the fire stone will still be there or not after the tide.”

“and you couldn’t have just rode the seagallop?” vernon asked, referring to the ferry. mingyu smiled sadly.

“well, if i had any money i would’ve ridden it instead of waking you up at seven in the morning.”

“then you could’ve just bought one at celadon’s department store?” vernon said in exasperation. “i wouldn’t mind accompanying you to celadon city by foot!”

“again,” mingyu mumbled, “no money.” vernon softened at the older boy’s words. money was hard, especially since mingyu’s ace, growlithe, can’t evolve without a fire stone. growlithe was mingyu’s pokémon since he was born, and vernon knew that there was no way mingyu would trade growlithe for anything else in the world.

but, since growlithe was unevolved, it means there are some limits to his powers. his stats wouldn’t be high enough to beat fully evolved pokémon, and even though growlithe himself was considered fast even as a growlithe, evolving into an arcanine would definitely make growlithe even faster.

“look, i’m sorry i had to drag you into this,” mingyu said, the wind sweeping up his hair. “i’ll make it up to you once we get back to vermilion, i promise.”

“it’s okay,” vernon said, quick to understand the older boy’s position. he was lucky lapras was already a fully evolved pokémon — no evolutions, to be exact — so if he won matches, especially gym matches, money came easily to him. and it was also the reason why vernon already finished kanto’s gym challenge, and mingyu hadn't even started his. “i needed to get out and go adventuring again.”

it took about three hours for them to ride from vermilion city to one island, where mt. ember was located. mingyu insisted that the fire stone was located at mt. ember. no trainer appeared during their ride (probably smart enough and rich enough to ride the seagallop, mingyu thought), but groups of seel and dewgong swam along them, and mingyu leaned back, his long arm reaching down to skim the surface of the water. sometimes, groups of staryu and horsea would appear, and mingyu would play with them, jokingly splashing water at them (mingyu didn’t know how he forgot about the fact that they were water type pokémon, but he did, and in return, got splashed by their water guns). the groups of seel and dewgong would also appear from underwater, waving their fins at him before swimming somewhere else. mingyu figured they probably saw the ferry often, but the ferry couldn’t stop to play with them.

it was about two and a half hours into the ride when the island finally came into view. vernon was currently knocked out, leaning his head on lapras’ neck with his hands around it. mingyu felt bad for the boy, for he did wake him up without any messages, so he decided to let him sleep some more. his hand reached out for the only poké ball he had with him, fumbling with it nervously.

to be honest, he had promised growlithe that he will evolve in two days, and growlithe had believed him, barking happily. mingyu knew that growlithe loved to battle and wished to battle stronger opponents, but mingyu also knew that if he didn't evolve he would have a hard time, and mingyu couldn’t beat seeing growlithe suffer. growlithe was, in a way, mingyu’s baby.

when mingyu could spot the pokémon center ahead, he tapped vernon’s shoulder, signalling him to wake up. vernon groaned as he opened his eyes, releasing his hold on lapras. he stretched to release the stress from his arms.

“we’re finally here,” he stated as lapras gracefully glided ashore. mingyu stepped off first, his feet hitting the soft sand, the sea water slightly splashing. mingyu held his hand out to help vernon off lapras, and vernon took it gratefully, before hopping down with a grunt. vernon turned to pat lapras’s neck, and lapras let out a happy cry before lowering her head, asking for a pet on the head. vernon laughed before obliging, and lapras hummed in satisfaction. vernon took out her poké ball, pressing the button to lapras’ neck. lapras then turned into a white silhouette, before completely disappearing into the poké ball.

“thanks. you did great.” vernon hummed, before turning around to face mingyu.

“i’m gonna have to go to the pokémon center first to rest lapras. is it okay?” mingyu nodded. after all, they had reached the island thanks to lapras. mingyu guessed it would be fine if they spared a few minutes for lapras to recover.

the two of them started heading towards the red roofed building otherwise known as the pokémon center. one island was a small island — so there were literally almost to no buildings besides the pokémon center and probably five houses. mingyu heard that bill, the guy famous for creating the pokémon box, lives here. he would want to meet bill if he had no deadlines, but sadly he had to fulfill his promise to growlithe.

the trip to the pokémon center only took them five minutes. vernon wanted to stop to eat, but mingyu stopped him, telling him they can eat during the way (for it was already eleven in the morning and mingyu didn’t want to waste any more time).

“according to the map, it says we should head for kindle road. it’s east from here.” mingyu said, staring at his map. vernon headed where east was, before stopping on his tracks.

“hyung,” he called. mingyu looked up from his map before it dawned on him.

“we’re have to surf again.”

this time, however, it only took them around fifteen minutes to surf from one island to kindle road. mingyu, feeling guilty for interrupting lapras’s rest, had fed her five oran berries as soon as they arrived on kindle road. lapras, delighted to see the berry, had eaten it speedily, almost chewing off mingyu’s hand in the process. as lapras was a gentle pokémon, she felt terrible, and rubbed her head on mingyu’s as a way to ask for forgiveness.

mingyu chuckled. “it’s okay buddy. you’re forgiven.” lapras cried in delight before vernon finally returned her to her ball.

mingyu turned to look at the scenery in front of him. he could see a lot of greens ahead — wild grass, where wild pokémon can be found and caught — and tall cliffs surrounding them. he could already see herds of ponyta and rapidash even from far away. flocks of spearow and fearow were flying above their heads. mingyu reached for his poké ball, pressing the button twice before a puppy-like pokémon emerged, barking happily as he finally solidified. mingyu grinned and opened his arms towards it, and the big orange ball of fluff leaped into mingyu’s arms.

“we’re finally here, growlithe! in a few hours you can evolve!” growlithe barked once more, wagging his tail in happiness.

in a glance, growlithe looked more like a tiger than a dog. growlithe’s fur was orange with black stripes, and the fur on its muzzle, chest, belly, and tail was beige, an additional tuft of fur on top of its head.

vernon smiled at the sight in front of him. he too, wanted the elder boy to start his gym challenge soon. that way, they can finally fulfill the promise they made when they were kids — battle each other with fully evolved teams. now mingyu was so close to his first step, and vernon wanted to help however he could (even if it meant being woken up at seven in the morning).

another small promise they made was to trade pokémon that can only evolve by trading. vernon already caught kadabra, and

mingyu put growlithe down, and the pokémon stood by mingyu’s side, wagging its tail furiously. growlithe is a loyal pokémon, and wouldn’t run until given orders otherwise. vernon could tell it was itching to run ahead, but since mingyu hadn’t said anything, he wouldn’t run until mingyu says it’s okay to do so.

“let’s go!” mingyu said, running for the greens ahead. growlithe barked happily, following his owner. vernon laughed at the sight, before running ahead after them.

“wait for me!”

the three of them slowed down once they reached the wild grass, afraid to startle any wild pokémon. the herds of ponyta and rapidash had been friendly, letting growlithe play with them once in a while. vernon sent out his own rapidash, who got along very well with the other rapidash.

after walking for half an hour, they settled down under a tree for lunch. mingyu had packed sandwiches and kimbaps — apparently, mingyu had packed a lot of spares for vernon and his pokémon too.

“i make a lot and i usually just give the leftovers to any wild pokémon in sight.” mingyu had told vernon when the latter accused mingyu of planning to take him all along.

vernon sent out all his pokémon except for lapras, which included the currently grazing rapidash, kadabra, scyther, snorlax and wigglytuff. snorlax, taking up most of the space, was still sleeping, as if he’s still inside his poké ball. scyther pokéd her scythes on snorlax’s stomach lightly, whilst wigglytuff went towards mingyu to help him, which mingyu accepted gratefully. meanwhile, kadabra headed towards growlithe in curiosity, and used his psychic to lift the puppy pokémon up. growlithe yelped in surprise before howling.

“kadabra, we do not randomly lift people up with psychic. now put growlithe down, please.” kadabra looked at vernon with a sad face, but vernon’s firm face made him lower growlithe down. as soon as growlithe's paws reached the ground, he ran for mingyu, wailing.

“it’s okay, baby,” mingyu cooed, petting his head. “he’s just playing with you. why don’t you play with bulbs too?” mingyu reached for the only other poké ball he has and released his bulbasaur out. growlithe barked in happiness as he leaped for bulbasaur, whose quick reflexes helped her catch growlithe with her vine whips.

mingyu had prepared a feast, to say the least. he had prepared lots of sandwiches (spicy ones for fire types growlithe and rapidash). they spent an hour for lunch (with snorlax eating almost half of mingyu’s sandwiches), and another thirty minutes to clean up. vernon sent back all his pokémon into their respective poké balls, letting rapidash say goodbye to her newly made friends.

bulbasaur had helped mingyu clean up the place before mingyu called her back to her ball. mingyu had offered growlithe to return to his ball to rest, but growlithe was too energetic to rest.

“how long is it going to take us to get to mt. ember?” vernon asked as he zipped his backpack close. mingyu looked at his map, and then at his watch.

“around two to three hours?” he said as he rolled his map before putting it on the side of his backpack. “it’s currently one pm, so if we hurry we can arrive there by three pm, and then go out by five pm. hopefully we can reach one island back around seven or eight pm, then head back to vermilion city.” vernon did not need to go through mingyu’s itinerary to feel exhausted. even only listening to the plan seemed exhausting — how were they going to finish that in less than twelve hours?

mingyu, however, wasted no time. as if the sandwich he ate earlier restored all of his energy, he ran towards north, growlithe catching up to him in no time. vernon realized that if he doesn’t run now, he probably would not be able to catch up with mingyu.

mingyu wanted to go to the ember spa so bad, considering his muscles were starting to cramp from running all day. but they were behind schedule, and mingyu’s perfectionist ass didn’t dare to waste another second.

they ran into trouble once when growlithe bumped into an angry graveler. growlithe’s fire typing was definitely a loss to them, but thanks to mingyu’s quick thinking by sending out bulbasaur, they managed to weaken the graveler to let them pass through. if bulbasaur had been a higher level, mingyu would’ve definitely caught that graveler — and trade it with vernon. but mingyu didn’t want to let any of his other pokémon evolve before growlithe — if his puppy was going to be loyal to him, then he’s going to be loyal to his puppy too, no matter what it takes.

once they passed the ember spa, they came to a slope leading towards a beach. when the horizon came into view, mingyu sighed in relief — if they can already see the ocean, that means they’re already halfway there. one more hour to go and they can finally begin the search for the fire stone.

growlithe started barking happily at the sight of the ocean, running even faster than before towards the icy water. mingyu shouted for growlithe in fear — he’s a fire type, for arceus’s sake! before anything bad could happen, mingyu spurted forward, using all the energy he has left to stop growlithe from diving into the ocean.

thanks to his long legs, mingyu reached growlithe right as growlithe’s paws touched the icy water. growlithe yelped in surprise when mingyu picked him up before losing his balance. mingyu’s body fell to the sand below, gasping for air. his legs had given out — he had ran as if his life depended on it. and in a way, his life did.

growlithe whined at the sight of mingyu panting for air, his head lightly bumping mingyu’s, as if asking if he’s okay. not soon after, vernon arrived next to mingyu. kneeling next to the boy as he handed the boy a bottle of lemonade. mingyu took it gratefully before sitting up, gulping almost half of the bottle in one shot.

“growlithe,” mingyu called, still wheezing for air. growlithe climbed into his lap, no longer as energetic as earlier. he probably understood that he did something bad this time, vernon thought.

“you’re a fire type,” mingyu said gently. “you remember what happened when you first battled lapras, right?” growlithe’s ears were down, and he let out a small whine.

“yes, you lost because of lapras’s water pulse. and the ocean,” mingyu gestured to the beautiful view in front of them, “is made of water. if you dive in there, arceus knows what would’ve happened.” growlithe was quiet, but looked at mingyu as if asking for forgiveness. mingyu ruffled growlithe’s fur, and growlithe looked a little bit better.

“maybe it’s time for you to return to your ball,” mingyu said, reaching for growlithe’s poké ball. “i’ll let you out again once we cross the sea, alright, buddy?” growlithe barked in agreement, and mingyu gently tapped the poké ball to growlithe’s body, who transformed into a white silhouette before completely disappearing into the poké ball. vernon patted mingyu’s shoulders.

“that was a close call,” vernon said, stepping towards the sea. “you go take a breather. i’ll get lapras out from her ball and ready her for our journey.”

as soon as mingyu was able to stand, he wasted no time to continue on the journey. the sun was shining bright on them — it was two in the afternoon, after all. the surf across wasn’t as fun as earlier, though — instead of friendly groups of seel and dewgong, the ocean was filled with groups of tentacool and tentacruel, and mingyu definitely did not want to touch any of the water.

lapras, however, was swimming faster than before — probably because the sun gives her energy. vernon occasionally patted her on the head, and she would cry in delight.

after an hour, they finally arrived in front of the entrance of mt. ember. mingyu heard vernon thank lapras before returning her to her ball. he took a deep breath.

this was it. they finally reached mt. ember after all the journey.

as promised, mingyu let growlithe out of his ball. growlithe barked happily, almost as if the incident earlier never happened. but then again, they were so close to getting the fire stone for him.

but growlithe — being a fire type — barked because he smelt something familiar. growlithe started for the cave, and mingyu and vernon followed behind him.

“he must’ve smelt the fire stone,” vernon stated. mingyu tilted his head.

“growlithe’s a fire type, and you know they have a very keen sense of smell,” he explained. “he’s been looking for the fire stone for all his life, and he’s a growlithe, so he must recognize the smell.”

true to vernon’s words, growlithe had sniffed the tracks, navigating their way towards the rocky mountain. sometimes mingyu and vernon would come across a machop or a geodude, but growlithe was so focused into searching for the fire stone that he moved so quickly, even the machop and geodude couldn’t catch up to him.

vernon was starting to lose energy half an hour into the hike — it was a mountain, after all, and the fire stone wasn’t located on the base of the mountain, sadly. he wanted to ask for a fice minute break, but he knew mingyu wouldn’t want to waste any more time, and he also knew growlithe wouldn’t stop for him. they’ve been waiting for this for almost ten years now, and vernon wouldn’t want to ruin the fun for them. he slowed his pace, still quick enough to not lose them, but enough for him to slowly regain his energy.

after what seemed like forever, growlithe finally stopped his tracks. vernon was leaning on a boulder, no longer capable of climbing anymore. but to his luck, they were already on the summit — now looking for the stone is all they need to do.

“hey, vernon,” mingyu called. “you just sit and rest. growlithe and i will look for the stone.” vernon did not oppose. he let his body fall to the ground, panting for air as he felt his legs cramping. he probably should’ve just called for kadabra to teleport him up to the summit — now, why didn’t he think of that? better yet, all of them could just teleport home after this!

he felt incredibly stupid for only realizing this now, but then again, mingyu also did not realize, so that makes the two of them.

on the other hand, mingyu and growlithe were actively searching — there were a lot of boulders and rocks. an hour passed and mingyu was sure they’ve been looking at every nook and cranny, but there were no signs of the fire stone anywhere.

that is, until growlithe kept barking into a certain boulder.

“what is it?” mingyu approached, but growlithe only continued barking. his front paws started scratching the boulder, so mingyu stepped forward to remove the boulder from the way. it was heavy — there was no way mingyu could do this on his own, but he didn’t want to trouble vernon anymore.

suddenly, growlithe let out a cry before pushing his whole body onto the boulder. the boulder moved, and mingyu realized right there and then that growlithe was using strength.

“good job, growlithe!” mingyu said, pushing together with growlithe. growlithe let out a little growl as the boulder finally moved out of their way, and in front of them was a small rock. growlithe pounced on it once for the rock to crack. mingyu took the rock and slammed it on the ground, and the rock finally cracked, revealing an ember colored stone. growlithe pounced on mingyu happily as mingyu fell on his back, hugging growlithe.

“we did it, growlithe! we found the fire stone!” growlithe was licking mingyu’s face and mingyu didn’t mind one bit. mingyu was laughing — a few hours ago he didn’t feel like he would succeed on his quest, but he did and he was so happy.

his happiness was cut short when vernon ran towards them, panting.

“hyung! i’ve been calling you, didn’t you hear me?”

“vernon, we found the fire stone!” mingyu grinned at him as he sat up. vernon looked frantic — what’s happening?

“that’s great, but i think we have a big problem!” mingyu opened his mouth to ask what the other boy meant when a cry of a bird broke the silence. above their heads, a red silhouette flew over them, and it felt like they were near a volcano. mingyu gulped. bird, red, hot. this could only mean one thing.

moltres landed on a boulder fifty metres ahead of them. mingyu and vernon were gaping in awe — they’ve heard legends of the legendary birds, but didn’t think they would ever come in contact with any of them! (when he got home, it occurred to mingyu that according to the legends, moltres resided on the summit of the mt. ember — mingyu didn’t know how he forgot about that small fact).

moltres was gold — it had a long, flowing head crest and a billowing tail, both made of reddish-orange and yellow flames. additionally, its wings were also shrouded in fiery plumage. it was eyeing them carefully, and none of them dared to move a muscle.

“should we make a run for it?” vernon asked. mingyu longed to take the fire stone, but he was scared moltres would attack him if he moved his hand.

“vernon,” mingyu said. vernon hummed in response, not daring to turn his head.

“this might be our only chance to ever battle moltres.”

“hyung, you only have growlithe and bulbasaur. we’re never gonna win.”

“it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience,” mingyu said. “besides, i need you to cause a distraction for me.”

before vernon could take his ball out, growlithe barked in anxiousness, and all hell broke loose.

from his beak, moltres fired a flamethrower towards growlithe and mingyu. growlithe yelped and jumped off of mingyu, and mingyu’s quick instincts screamed at him to roll to the right, which he did. the pebbles and rocks on the ground caused him to groan in pain.

“lapras, go!” vernon threw his dive ball out, and lapras emerged, crying out her battle cry.

“lapras, hydro pump!” lapras shrieked before shooting out a powerful hydro pump — but moltres dodged it easily, for it has wings.

while moltres was distracted, mingyu jumped for the fire stone — moltres might be beautiful and all, but mingyu will never forgive it if his quest fails, especially not because he’s a legendary pokémon.

moltres shot a fire blast at vernon and lapras, but growlithe leaped in front of the fire blast, getting slammed by the fire blast into the ground in the process. he yelped, and mingyu didn’t realize he had shouted for growlithe’s name in despair. he needed to get the fire stone to growlithe somehow!

“hyung!” vernon cried. “i’ll cover, so you go evolve growlithe!” lapras let out another cry before using avalanche against moltres — moltres’s flying-typing neutralizing the damage, instead of it being not very effective.

mingyu wanted to run for growlithe, but he knew if he did, moltres would turn him into a roasted mingyu, and mingyu didn’t want that. he saw growlithe grunt in pain, but managed to stand up, his feet stumbling. so mingyu did the only thing he could think of.

“growlithe, catch!” mingyu threw the fire stone towards growlithe, and moltres was too distracted by lapras to notice. growlithe jumped in the air and caught the fire stone in his fangs, and he shined.

everyone was too distracted by growlithe’s evolution to continue the battle — even moltres. growlithe’s body grew — his body and feet grew longer, the taft of fur on his head grew towards the back of his head, and his tail got visibly longer and bigger. when the blue light vanished, growlithe was no longer there — arcanine roared handsomely, eyes ready to battle.

mingyu choked back a sob. after ten years, his growlithe was finally an arcanine.

he didn’t have much time to rejoice, though, because once the evolution process was done, moltres decided it was a good time to attack them with another fire blast (in a way, it was though). vernon shouted at lapras to dodge, but mingyu knew lapras wouldn’t have made it. arcanine, however, with his newfound speed, managed to push back the fire blast with flamethrower — a stronger version now that he was fully evolved. he ran towards mingyu’s side in no time, his eyes staring at mingyu, full of trust.

“vernon,” mingyu called.

“yeah?”

“if we die fighting moltres, i have no regrets.”

“you won’t, because the minute we start to become the losing side i will have kadabra teleport us back home.” mingyu laughed, too happy too contain his joy.

“well, i wanna fight first. how about you?” vernon smirked at the elder boy.

“i finished the gym challenge — i never run away from challenges.” mingyu smirked as both him and vernon switched into battle stance.

“lapras/arcanine,” they said in unison, “i choose you!”

[route22ny]

What My Korean Father Taught Me About Defending Myself in America

Born in 1939 during what would be the last years of the Japanese colonial occupation of Korea, my father, Choung Tai Chee, also called Charles or Chuck or Charlie, came to the United States in 1960. He was flashy, cocky, unafraid, it seemed, of anything. Wherever we were in the world, he seemed at home, right up until near the end of his life, when he was hospitalized after a car accident that left him in a coma. Only in that hospital bed, his head shaved for surgery, did he look out of place to me.

A tae kwon do champion by the age of 18 in Korea, he had begun studying martial arts at age 8, eventually teaching them as a way to put himself through graduate school, first in engineering and then oceanography, in Texas, California, and Rhode Island. He loved the teaching. The rising popularity of martial arts in the 1960s in Hollywood meant he made celebrity friends like Frank Sinatra Jr., Paul Lynde, Sal Mineo, and Peter Fonda, who my father said had fixed him up on a date with his sister, Jane, in the days before Barbarella. A favorite photo from his time in Texas shows him flying through the air, a human horseshoe, each of his bare feet breaking a board held shoulder high on each side by his students.

When I complained about my wet boots during the winters growing up in Maine, he told me stories about running barefoot in the snow in Korea to harden his feet for tae kwon do. His answer to many of my childhood complaints was usually that I had to be tougher, stronger, prepared for any attack or disaster. The lesson his generation took from those they lost to the Korean War was that death was always close, and I know now that he was doing all he could to teach me to protect myself. When I cried at the beach at the water’s edge, afraid of the waves, he threw me in. “No son of mine is going to be afraid of the ocean,” he said. When I first started swimming lessons, he told me I had to be a strong swimmer, in case the boat I was on went down, so I could swim to shore. When he taught me to body-surf, he taught me about how to know the approach of an undertow, and how to survive a riptide. When I lacked a competitive streak, he took to racing me at something I loved—swimming underwater while holding my breath. I was an asthmatic child, but soon, intent on beating him, I could swim 50 yards this way at a time.

For all of that, he was an exceedingly gentle father. He took me snorkeling on his back, when I was five, telling me we were playing at being dolphins. There he taught me the names of the fish along the reef where we lived in Guam. He would praise the highlights in my hair, and laugh, calling me “Apollo.” And as for any pressure regarding my future career, he offered something very rare for a Korean man of his generation. “Be whatever you want to be,” he told me. “Just be the best at it that you can possibly be.”

Only when I was older did I understand the warning about being strong enough to swim to shore in another context, when I learned the boat he and his family had fled in from what was about to become North Korea nearly sank in a storm. In Seoul as a child, he scavenged food for his family with his older brother, coming home with bags of rice found on overturned military supply trucks, while his father went to the farms, collecting gleanings. His attempts to teach me to strip a chicken clean of its meat make a different sense now. I had thought of him as an immigrant without thinking about how the Korean War made him one of the dispossessed, almost a refugee, all before he left Korea.

When I began getting into fights as a child in the U.S., he put me into classes in karate and tae kwon do for these same reasons. He loved me and he wanted me to be strong. I just wasn’t sure how I was supposed to take on a whole country.

We moved to Maine in 1973, when I was six years old. My father had taken us back to Korea after I was born, to work for his father, and then moved us around the Pacific—from Seoul to the islands of Truk, Kawaii, and Guam, in his and my mother’s attempts to set up a fisheries company. Maine was his next experiment, and not coincidentally, my mother’s home state. On my first day of the first grade, in the cafeteria, after a morning spent in what seemed like reasonably friendly classes, my troubles began when I went up to take an empty seat at a table and the blond haired, blue-eyed white boy seated there looked up with some alarm and asked me, “Are you a chink?”

“What’s a chink?” I asked, though I knew it wasn’t a compliment. I had never heard this word before.

“A Chinese person. You look like a chink. Is that why your face is so flat?”

This was also the first day I can remember being insulted about my appearance.

“I am not Chinese,” I said that day, naively. In a few years I would learn I was in fact part Chinese, 41 generations back, but at that moment, I tried to explain to him about how I was half Korean, a nationality and situation he had never heard of before. Half of what? And so this was also the first day I had to explain myself to someone who didn’t care, who had already decided against me.

He was a white boy from America, and he was repeating insults that seem to me to have come from a secret book passed out to white children everywhere in this country, telling them to call someone Asian “Chink,” to walk up to them, muttering “Ching-chong, ching-chong.” To sing a song, “My mother’s Chinese, my father’s Japanese, I’m all mixed up,” pulling their eyes first down and then up and then alternating up and down.

I was struck, watching Minari a few months ago, when the film’s Korean immigrant protagonist, David, is asked by a white boy in Arkansas in the 1980s why his face is so flat. “It’s not,” David says, forcefully—so many of us have this memory of someone saying this to us and responding that way. Why did a boy in Arkansas and a boy in Maine, in their small towns thousands of miles apart, before the internet, each know to make this insult?

When I got home from that first day at school, I asked my mother what the word “Chink” meant, and she flinched and covered her mouth in concern.

“Who said that to you?” she asked, and I told her. I don’t remember the conversation that followed, just the swift look of concern on her face. The sense that something had found us.

I was the only Asian-American student at my school in 1973, and the first many of my classmates had ever met. When my brother joined me at school three years later, he was the second. When my sister arrived, four years after him, she was the third. My mother is white, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed American, born in Maine to a settler family. I have six ancestors who fought in the Revolutionary War, but none of them had to fight this. I don’t know how to separate the teasing, harassment, and bullying that marked my 12 years of life there from that first racist welcome. It makes me question whether I really had a “temper” as a child, as I was told, or whether I was merely isolated by racism among racists, afraid and angry?

My father dealt with racism throughout most of his life by acting as if it had never happened—as if admitting it made it more powerful. He knew bullies loved to see their victims react and would tell me to not let what they said upset me. “Why do you care what they think of you?” he would say, and laugh as he clapped me on the shoulder. “They’re all going to work for you someday.”

“Don’t get even, get ahead,” was another of his slogans for me at these times. As if America was a race we were going to win.

Two decades after his death, writing in my diary while on a subway in New York City, I began counting off all of my activities as a child—choir, concert band, swimming, karate and tae kwon do, clarinet, indoor track, downhill and cross country skiing—and I asked myself if my parents were trying to raise Batman. Then I looked down to the insignia on my Batman t-shirt, and I laughed.

These lessons my father gave me—to be the best you can be, to fight off your enemies and defeat them, to swim to safety if the boat sinks, and in general toughen yourself against everything that would harm you—these I had absorbed alongside certain unspoken lessons, taken from observing his life as a Korean immigrant. To have two names, one American, known to the public, and one Korean, known only to a few intimates; to get rid of your accent; and to dress well as a way to keep yourself above suspicion. Did I need to train like a superhero just to be a person in America? Maybe.

But if I thought of superheroes, it was because my father was like one to me, training me to be like him.

One legend I heard about my father when I was growing up is the story of a night he was being held up at gunpoint, while he was unpacking his car. Whoever it was asked him to shut the trunk and turn around and raise his hands in the air. He agreed to, slamming the car trunk down so forcefully, he sank his fingertips into the metal.

By the time he turned around, the would-be stick-up artist was gone.

He would often ask me and my brother to punch him, as hard as we could, in his stomach. He was proud of his abdominal strength—it was like punching a wall. We would shake our hands, howling, and he would laugh and rub our heads. One time he even used it as a gag to stop a bully.

A boy on my street had developed the habit of changing the rules during our games if his team started losing. We had fights over it that could be heard up and down the street, and one day I chased him with a Wiffle bat, him laughing as I ran. My father stepped in the next time he tried to change the rules during a game and prevented it, telling him all games in his yard had to have the same rules at the beginning as the end—you couldn’t change them when you were losing. When the boy got mad, he said, “I bet you want to hit me, you should hit me. You’ll feel better. Hit me right here, in the stomach, as hard as you can.”

The boy hauled off and punched my dad in the stomach. I knew what was coming. The boy went home crying, shaking his hand at the pain. His mom came over and they had a talk. The rule-changing stopped.

I tried teasing my classmates back after being told to by my father. Stand-up as self-defense requires practice, though: During a “Where are you from?” exercise in the second grade, I told my classmates and teacher I had “Made in Korea” stamped on my ass, which elicited shocked laughter and a punishment from my teacher. I remember the glee when I called a classmate an ignoramus, and he didn’t know what it meant—and got angrier and angrier when I wouldn’t tell him, demanding that I explain the insult. When told to go back to where I came from, I said, “You first.”

Increasingly, I just hid, in the library, in books. When given detention, I exulted in the chance to be alone and read. I was an advanced student compared to my classmates, due in part to my mother being a schoolteacher, and I learned to make my intelligence a weapon.

The day several boys held me down on my street and ran their bicycles over my legs, to see if I could take it, as if maybe I wasn’t human, that felt like some new horrible level. I don’t remember how that ended or if I ever told anyone, just the feeling of the bicycle tires rolling over the skin of my legs. The day I bragged about my father being a martial artist to my classmates, they locked me in the bathroom and told me to fight my way out with kung fu, calling me “Hong Kong Phooey,” after the cartoon character, as they held the door shut. This was the fourth grade. After I got out of that bathroom and went home, I told my father about it, and he told me it was time to take tae kwon do. I had to learn to defend myself.

I would never be like him, never break boards like him, but for a while, I tried. I still cherish the day he gave me my first gi and showed me how to tie it. I learned I had a natural flexibility, which meant I could easily kick high, and I took pride in my roundhouse and reverse roundhouse kicks. But after a few years, my father took issue with a story he’d heard about my teacher’s arrogance toward his opponents, and he pulled me out of the classes. “It is very dangerous to teach in that spirit,” he told me. And he said something I would never forget. “The best fighter in tae kwon do never fights,” he said. “He always finds another way.”

I have thought about this for a long time. For the ordinary practitioner, tae kwon do and karate prepare you to go about your life, aware of what to do in case of assault. They offer no guarantee, just chances for preparedness in the face of the violence of others as well as the violence within yourself. At the time I felt my father was describing the responsibility that comes with knowing how to hurt someone, but I came to understand it as a principled if conditional non-violence, which, in this year of quarantine and rising racist violence, is one of the clearest legacies he left to me.

Like many of us, I have been trying to write about these most recent attacks on Asian-Americans, some of them in my old neighborhood in New York, and I keep starting and stopping. How do we protect ourselves and those we love? Can writing do that? I know I learned to use my intelligence as a weapon to keep myself safe from racists, starting as a child, and suddenly it doesn’t feel like enough. The violence is like a puzzle with many moving parts, but the stakes are life and death. “You’re really going to homework your way through this one?” I keep asking myself. The people attacking Asians and Asian Americans now are like the boy I met on my first day in the first grade. They don’t care whether or not we are actually Chinese—the primary experience Asian Americans have in common is mis-identification. The person who gets a patriotic ego boost off of calling me a “chink” isn’t going to check if they’re right about me, and I don’t imagine they’ll stop their fist or their gun if I say, “You’re just doing this because of America’s history of war in Asia,” even though we both know this is true. And so I have been thinking of my father and what he taught me.

The most overt way my father fought racism in front of me involved no fighting at all. He founded a group called the Korean American Friendship Association of Maine, which helped new Korean immigrants move to Maine and find work, community, and housing, along with offering lessons on how to open bank accounts, pay taxes, file immigration paperwork, and get drivers’ licenses. For both of my parents, community organizing, activism, and mutual aid like this were commitments they shared and enjoyed and passed along to us, their children, and this led to much of my own work as an activist, teacher, and writer. I am not my father, but I am much as he made me.

There’s a difference between fighting racists and fighting racism. Where my father stayed silent, I have learned I have to speak out, which has felt, even while writing this, a little like betraying him. And as a biracial gay Korean American man, I don’t experience the same identifications or misidentifications he did. I am mistaken for white, or at least “not Asian,” as often as I’m mistaken for Chinese, and have felt like a secret agent as people speak in front of me about Asians in ways they would not otherwise. I learned most of my adult coping strategies for street violence from queer activist organizations after college.

Even as I write, “I wonder if he ever felt fear living in America,” it feels like a betrayal, especially as he isn’t around for me to ask him. I think again about how my father always made a point of dressing well, for example, but it always felt like more than that. Men wearing suits as a kind of armor, that isn’t so strange. He had his suits made at J. Press, wore handmade English leather shoes—shoes that fit me. I sometimes wear them for special occasions. Among my favorite objects of his is a monogrammed J. Press canvas briefcase, the name “CHEE” in embossed leather between the straps. After his father gave him an Omega Constellation watch when I was born, he eventually acquired others. For a time I thought he did this aspirationally, but most of his family in Korea is like this: Well-dressed, with a preference for tailoring and handmade clothes. All of my memories of my uncles coming from the airport to visit us involve them arriving in their blazers.

The first time I followed my father’s advice to wear a sports jacket when flying, I received a spontaneous upgrade. I didn’t have frequent flyer miles and the person checking me in was not flirting with me either. There was nothing but the moment of grace, and the feeling that my father, from beyond the grave, was making a point as I sat down in my new, larger, more spacious seat. Because I had never tried out this advice while he was alive.

Like much of my father’s advice, it came from his keen awareness of social contexts, and it worked. His wardrobe came from the pleasure of a dare more than a disguise. You don’t acquire a black and gold silk brocade smoking jacket in suburban Maine because you want to fit in with your white neighbors. Sometimes his clothes were a charm offensive, sometimes just a sass. The jacket advice may well have been an anticipation of racist treatment, of a piece with perfecting his English so he had no accent, and raising us to speak only English. My mother spoke more Korean to us as children than he did—a remnant of her time living in Seoul.

Now that I am old enough to choose to learn Korean, I still feel like a child disobeying him, just as I do when I dress too casually, or acknowledge that I’ve experienced racism. I know I am just making different choices, as you do when you are grown, but also, I am stepping out from behind his program to protect myself. I feel the fears he never spoke about, and instead simply addressed with what now look like tactics. At these moments I miss him as much as I ever do, but especially for how I would tell him, this may have protected you. It won’t protect me.

In my kitchen the other day, as I was making coffee, I fell into the ready stance, with my right foot back, left foot forward, and snapped my right leg up and out in a front snap kick. This is the basic first kick you learn in tae kwon do. And you do it again, and again, and again, until it is muscle memory. You move across the room this way and then turn to begin again.

I wasn’t sure if my form was exactly right, but it felt good. Memories came back of the sweaty smell of the practice room, the other students, the mirrors on the walls, the fluorescent lights. All those years ago, I had thought my father had put me in those classes in order to become him, but as I sent my practice kicks through the air, I remembered how even learning them made me feel safer, protected at least by the knowledge that he loved me. I could not have said this at the time, but after those attacks, I had feared I wasn’t strong enough to be his son.

I still fear that. I suppose it drives me, even now. It is dehumanizing to insist on your humanity, even and perhaps especially now, and so I am not doing that here. Each time I’ve tried to write even this, a rage takes over, and then the only thing I want to do with my hands doesn’t involve writing, and I stop. But I know from learning to fight that hitting someone else means using yourself to do it. My father’s advice, about fighting being the last resort, has given me another lesson: You turn yourself into the weapon when you strike someone else—in the end, another way to erase yourself—and so you do that last. In the meantime, you fight that first fight with yourself, for yourself.

You may never be able to protect what you love, but at least you can try. At least you will be ready.

Alexander Chee is most recently the author of the essay collection How to Write an Autobiographical Novel. A novelist and essayist, he teaches at Dartmouth College and lives in Vermont.

[maybebanks]

Secrets Bring Us Together

JJ maybank x reader

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you whisper to John B.

You had came to his house in the middle of the night. Begging to stay after a fight with your father on your ‘dirty’ company as friends. He wasn’t a fan of the pogues, but they were a light in your life.

“No problem, you want to tell me what happened?” John B asks, eating a slice of bread.

“At home...” you say, trailing off, holding in some tears.

“Your dad?” He asked solemnly, you only answered with a nod. He didn’t have a dad, but honestly there was a part of you that wanted to be in his position.

“You can stay here for 2 days,” he says, tapping your shoulder gently as he passed you.

Your throat goes dry, “Uh-wait, actually...I was hoping to stay a little longer?” you mumble, settling into the couch.

He looks confused, “why?”

“I can..pay rent? Or-please I’ll do anything, I just can’t go home right now,” you plead.

He furrows his eyebrows.

You shuffle through your bag and pull out your wallet, then hand him 2 20s and a 50 dollar bill.

“Here,” you say eagerly, his eyes widen.

“Alright it’s cool, you can stay,” he laughs, “but I’m not taking your money, that’s not how we pogues do it,”

—

You woke up early to make breakfast. John B was still asleep so you started to get undressed.

Suddenly, the screen door swung open.

“Y/n?” I female voice asked, full of surprise.

You grabbed one of John B’s stray button ups and struggled to button it quickly.

“Where did you get all that cash?!” She asks, pointing to the dollar bills spilling out of your bag.

You shake your head, “nothing just forget it.” You has taken a lot of money because you didn’t know how long you would be away from home.

“Did you rob a kook or some-“ Kie starts but you cut her off.

“Please...just don’t tell anyone. Okay? I promise it’s nothing to worry about,” you reason.

She eyes you suspiciously, “I promise,” she mutters.

“Thanks! Your the best,” you say, starting to cook some scrambled eggs.

“What are you doing here so early?” You ask her.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says, sitting down. Picking up a bag of your stuff from under the table.

“You’re not staying here...are you?” She asked.

“No,” you lie quickly, “I just brought over some clothes to change into after the boat today. If they get muddy or something,”

“Okay,” Kie responds.

John B walks out of his room. “Morning guys,”

“John B? Is Y/n sleeping here?” She ask, looking at you as if to express how bad of a liar you are, you roll your eyes.

John B looks at you, “Pft, no! She has her own place,”

“No secrets amongst pogues!” Kie shouts.

Before you can respond JJ and Pope walk in.

“Top of the mornin’ to ya!” JJ says cheerfully, you can’t help but smile at him.

Pope looks confused, “no secrets...what were you guys just talking about?” He questions.

“Y/n is being weird and so is John B,” Kie explains.

“Wait-you guys aren’t like, macking, are you?” JJ says holding a blunt.

“Seriously guys? It’s not a big deal!” You whine.

“Oh my god, you guys are totally-“ Pope starts.

“We are not macking,” John B states.

JJ mimics a blow job with his blunt and Pope laughs.

You quickly grab the nearest item and throw it at JJ.

“Really?” Kie says, not giving up, then explain this!” She says, pointing to your bag of clothes that could last a week.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say, “can we just go surfing? I need some sun,” you say, but your nerves were tensing up.

Pope jumps up and heads towards your bag.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You exclaim as he empties a few things from your bag.

“Searching for evidence...” Pope says.

“Ugh can you not be a nerd for like a second please?” You say annoyed.

JJ gets up and joins pope.

“Guys what the fuck! Seriously, stop! Stop!” You try to reason with the curious boys.

“Guys! I think I found it! The evidence we’ve been searching for!” JJ yells excitedly and everyone raises there eyebrows in anticipation.

Your hands shake nervously.

Suddenly, JJ pulls out a white lace piece from your bag. Your bra.

Pope says, “whoa!” Sarcastically.

And Kie rolls her eyes.

“JJ put that down,” you demand.

“Nah, I think I’m going to try it on, see if it looks as sexy on me as it does on you?” He says raising one eyebrow.

“No, don’t! You’ll stretch it out,” you say, no doubt in your mind that he will actually put on your bra.

He dangles it above your head and you swipe for it, “JJ!” You shout jumping for it. He was taller than you, and your chest brushed up against his every time you jumped up to reach his arms holding it up high.

Finally he lets you have it, laughing at your frustration. You return it to its rightful place, in your bag.

Pope mutters, “aww man!” When the fun ends.

“Sorry Pope, I know it was your first time seeing a bra in all, but I wanna go surf,” you say patting his head and signaling everyone to head out.

Jj and John B laugh at your comment. But Kie, still worried, finally gets up and joins y’all.

—

After a long day of laughing and surfing you all make it back to John B’s place for a movie.

After you all have settled down on the porch, JJ starts up a conversation.

“Guys, I think we should all just dip,” JJ says disappointedly.

“What?” You ask, you knew he was in trouble with the police, and maybe his dad, but it was nothing he hadn’t handled before.

“JJ what about the gol-“Kie starts.

“We lost the G-game, Kie! I don’t even know if things are going to work, I owe 25K as my restitution,” JJ reveals.

Everyone is in shock.

“25 K? Holy shit man,” Pope says.

“We haven’t lost the gold game, we just have to-“ you start, trying to get John B to support you, but Kie shuts you down.

“I know it’s easy for you to be all hopeful with the cushion you have, but not everyone can afford to waste their time,” Kie says sourly, she had a feeling you could help JJ but you were lying about something.

“Cushioning? What the hell are you talking about?!” You say back angerly, you had faith in the gold hunt, what was wrong with that?

“Don’t play dumb!” She demands, giving you a look like she wants to slap your face.

“Whoa, Kie. Calm down, she’s just trying to-“ Jj starts but she continues.

“Your keeping so many secrets! I can tell because I’m not an idiot like all the boys you have fooled. Admit it! You’ve been staying with John B!” Kie starts.

“What are you jealous? God Kie, I’m not sleeping with John B!” You shout.

“Why don’t you just go back to your own fucking house!” She says, in response your face blushes red and you look down at your feet, and away from Kie’s burning words.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to, or seen your house? Is there a reason for that...or are you just obsessed with keeping everything a secret,” Kie begins, standing up.

“Shut up,” you mutter.

“I wonder why?” She tries again.

“Shut up! Why are you trying to start something?!” You ask.

“Because your a liar! And I’m not friends with liars.”

“Kie just leave her alone,” John B says, but Kie didn’t listen.

“How did you get all that cash? You know how would be a good time to mention it, since JJ has 25K to pay,” Kie says, cornering you.

“Cash? What is she talking about,” JJ asks you.

You sigh, defeated, “Fine! If you want to hear me say it, then I’ll say it. I live a house in figure eight, but that doesn’t mean-“

“Your a kook?” a few of them say in unison. Even Kie was shocked.

“No! Guys, come on you know me! I surf, I don’t care about golf or clothes, money matters to me, I fish, the Cut is my home-“

“I can’t believe you were a kook this whole time,” Pope says sadly.

“Guys-“

“Liar...” Kiara mutters.

“You can’t-“ you stifle, your breathing was becoming difficult, was this the moment when your friends turned on you.

“Probably paid for surf lessons,”

That stung your heart, you loved surfing because the waves were an escape, the talent you had at it was all you.

You looked at everyone, they were mad, sad, even disgusted.

“You can’t be serious... wh-what you hate me now? Because I’m a kook?!” You ask your voice shaking, you lied, and they hated you now.

John B gets up and walks inside.

A few tears left your eyes, “please,” you say.

“You lies to us! Pogue life? You weren’t even a pogue! What are we to you then? A way to rebel against your parents? I’m done y/n,” Kie says.

“No, no you guys are my friends,” you say, letting a few more years fall.

“Pope?” You ask, he was looking at the ground.

“All those times we all had jobs to do, where we worked for the food on our table! Where were you?!” Pope asks, hurt.

All your friends hate you, “JJ? You ask slowly.

“She was helping us,” he pauses.

“W-What?” You ask.

“When we had our jobs...she was helping us,” JJ doesn’t make eye contact with you.

John B returns, “here,” he says, throwing you your bag of stuff.

“No,” you whimper, “guys it’s still me, Y/n!” You try and reason.

“You’re not just a kook, you’re a liar,” Kie says standing up and approaching the door.

JJ puts his hand on Kiaras shoulder and stopped her from leaving.

“Why do you think she lied, huh?” JJ breaks the silence.

Everyone looks at him, “Because we would react like this! Look at us, y/n has done nothing but been a good friend to all of us. Pope, she always helped deliver groceries. John B, she never once doubted your dad or the g-game. And Kie, she spent days teaching you how to surf, and protesting ocean plastic! And to me, she’s comforted me about my dad even when I pushed her away. God, I love her. I don’t care if she’s a kook, guys it’s just a name. She’s been a better friend than a kook. And you all love her too,” JJ says, angry at his friends for being so petty.

Kie looks at you crying quietly, “I’m an idiot,” she breathed, then she stands up and hugs you. You hug her back. John B joins next, muttering that he’s sorry, Pope joins. And after a few seconds you all pull out.

“Guys, I was never doing this to spite my parents or any of the kooks. You guys are literally the best friends I’ve ever had. I can’t loose you all,” you explain.

“Sorry we were so dumb,” Pope says, “well except jj,” he says, “that’s a sentence I never thought I’d say,”

You turn to JJ, he looks at you with a sweet smile, he basically saved you, with love you run up to him and jump into his arms, he supports your back, hugging you tight.

“I love you, JJ,” you whisper in his ear. He pulls out to see your face, within seconds, he presses his lips against yours, you moving yours along with him, accepting his kiss.

[northcarolinanative]

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐝

A/N: I was listening to music the other night and I heard this song and thought that it would make a good fic, so I wrote it. TW: It does talk about domestic abuse, with a slight description, and lying about it.  I love this song and the first time I heard it, I cried. I hope you all enjoy it. This is a more platonic JJ x Reader as I felt with this subject matter it would feel like I was romanticizing it, and I do not want to do that. As always please take care of yourselves, so if the themes might trigger you please don’t read it. Thank you all so much for the support!!

Description: JJ finds a girl at the boneyard after a fight with her boyfriend, then at the wreck, he brings her back to the Chateau with the other pogues trying to comfort her. Based on the song “Must have been the Wind by Alec Benjamin.

I heard a glass shatter on the wall in the apartment above mine. At first, I thought that I was dreamin' But then I heard the voice of a girl, And it sounded like she'd been cryin'

JJ was sitting in a log in the boneyard, just another Friday night on the cut. The party had started to die down a little, tourons and kooks starting to leave to meet their curfew’s leaving the pogues to finish out the night, pogue style. JJ downed another drink, arm locked with John B trying to see who could chug the cup of beer the fastest. JJ throws his cup down, as John B finally pulls it away. “Aha!” JJ says jumping up onto the top of a log. It had hit that point in the night where people were looking to elevated surfaces to stand on because of how intoxicated they were. JJ was pulled out of his state when he heard the sound of glass shattering. He turned his head down the beach to see a girl. He heard, her voice, it sounded strained as if she had been yelling and crying. JJ saw a male figure walking away from the girl. He stepped off the log and quickly told Pope that he would be back. The other pogues were sharing confused glances, but let it pass. JJ approached the girl, who had now sat on the beach, just out of reach from the surf. JJ walked up slowly. “Hey. I thought I heard something over here, like glass breaking, or some yelling?” He stuck his hands in his pockets. He didn’t know what possessed him to walk over here, but he felt so drawn to her.   “Hmm nothing like that over here. I didn’t hear anything.” She said staring out over the ocean in front of them. “I just came over this way to get some air, away from the party. She let out a soft laugh. JJ saw the broken liquor bottle on a few feet away against the large piece of driftwood. “You sure everything is ok?” JJ said, giving her another chance to talk about it if she wanted to. “Yea, it was probably just the wind or something you heard.” She said pulling her hoodie up closer around her neck. JJ stuck his hand out closer to her, moving slowly. He wasn’t quite sure why he was being careful. “I’m JJ.” “Y/N” She said taking his hand and shaking it slowly. The two shared a glance, both softly smiling before looking back out over the ocean. “Have I seen you around the Boneyard before?” JJ asked he wanted to get to know her better, she was aloof, and JJ wasn’t having it. “Nah. This is the first time I’ve been out here. Ever heard of strict parents from the cut?” She said looking over to him. “Those exist?” JJ said, causing a slight laugh to leave Y/N lips. JJ loved the way it sounded. So he decided to try and make her laugh as long as they sat on the beach that night. They exchanged information and she walked up the beach and onto the ramps, before turning around and waving to JJ. He smiled back at her, throwing his hand up before walking back to the group. Only the other three pogues were left, sitting around a dulling fire. As he approached the group he got three confused stars from his friends. John B was the first to speak up. “You strike out dude?” “You guys are gross” Kie grimaced at their conversation. “No. I think I might have made a friend.” JJ said, thinking back to your conversation. “Aw. Our baby made a friend” Pope stated in a sarcastic tone, gripping JJ shoulder. “Whatever. I don’t know she’s just…” He paused looking at his friends. “Different”

She said, "I think your ears are playing tricks on you"  Sweater zipped up to her chin "Thanks for caring, sir, that's nice of you, But I have to go back in Wish I could tell you about the noise, But I didn't hear a thing"

JJ and Pope walked into The Wreck, seating themselves at the bar directly in front of where Kie was, pushing orders out of the window. “Kie, looking hot” She rolled her eyes at JJ’s remark. “No really like your sweating buckets” Pope laughed. “Ah yes, just what every girl wants to hear.” Kie stopped in front of JJ. “Looks like your mystery girl is taken.” Kie nodded her head in the direction of Y/N. She was sat with what looked to be her family. What looked like her parents a younger girl and a male. Just as JJ was about to turn around, protest that it might have been her brother, he saw the man take your hand from the table, kiss it, then wrap his arm comfortably around your shoulder. JJ would be lying if his stomach didn’t drop. He had been texting her on and off since the party, he even called her once. He knew that there was a boy from the beach but he had hoped she left him after the incident. He looked at the male, realizing it was in fact the one from the beach a week ago. The man who threw the bottle, the one that was yelling, but the one overall, that made you cry. He turned back, resting his head on his fist on the counter. He slowly started eating the fries that Kie set in front of him and Pope. Kie and Pope looked at each other silently voicing their confusion about JJ and the girl. The truth was JJ was worried for you. He knew what it was like to feel useless and made to feel unworthy by someone who was supposed to love you. He wasn’t sure where the attachment to you came from, but he wanted to help you before things went down that path. He did not want anyone to feel like that. Pope pulled him out of his thoughts. “JJ?” He said looking his friend in the eyes. “Yea Yea. Sorry” He shook his head. “Old Man Jone wore me out cleaning up his boat today” JJ said with a slight laugh. “Well you missed some pretty sick waves, today dude. Ain’t that right Kie?” Pope asked. “Yea. They were the best we’ve seen all week.” She said from further back in the kitchen. JJ tried to listen to the story that Pope was telling. He was trying to stay engaged in the tale Pope was telling him about a nasty wipeout he had. He heard a rustling behind him, and had to fight the urge to see what it was. When the back door opened out to the dock, he couldn’t help but turn to see Y/N’s boyfriend pulling her by the hand out onto the dock. He watched intently as he heard raised voices, and saw her in the window, tears starting to fall down her face. He saw her boyfriend put his hands on her shoulders, he saw the pressure that he was applying, then he saw her lips. “Stop, that hurts.” Then she was moved away from the view of the window. JJ was quick to stand up. Pope stopped him from going outside by grabbing his arm. “Uh where are you going?” “Umm I wanted to say hi to her,�� JJ mumbled trying to head back out, where he still heard faint yelling. He looked back at what he thought was your family. “Dude, she left with her boyfriend” “He was hurting her.” was all he said before shaking out of Pope’s grip on his upper arm. He walked quickly to the door pushing it open. What he saw in front of him broke his heart. He was frozen. He saw her boyfriend in your face, his face red, angry, her back against the pole of the dock. He saw him shove her into the pole harshly, then Y/N’s face grimace in pain. The boy turned and walked away, down the way, toward the beach. JJ wanted to walk after him, show him what it was like to be hurt, and he almost did. Then he saw a glimpse of her, wiping the tears from her face, and resting on the railing of the dock. She pulled her hoodie up around her neck, just like she had the night of the party when they met. He made his way down the dock. He knew that he didn’t know what was going on entirely, but from what he had seen, he knew he had to help her. “We really have to stop meeting like this Y/N” JJ said leaning against the railing beside her. Y/N jumped at the sound of his voice. He stepped away casually realizing what that he had startled her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said smiling. JJ saw the tears on the edge of her eyes. “I saw you leave with that boy Y/N” He paused looking back at her, she kept her gaze focused on the water in front of her. “I heard him yelling, I know that I don’t know you that well, but I wanted to help” “I think your ears are playing tricks of you JJ” She let out a slight laugh. She was trying to convince him, just as much as she was trying to convince herself. “It was probably just the wind again” “Right.” was all JJ said. “Well, Daniel’s family is in there waiting for us. He’s not here so I’ll have to cover for him.” She knew he saw, but she was in denial. “Seriously though, Thanks for caring so much JJ. I should really go back inside.” She reached up and put her hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. “I’ll always care Y/N” was all that he said before she walked back up to the restaurant. Kie and Pope watched her enter and sit back down with the family, each asking her a degree of heated questions. They sympathized with the girl, but were worried were JJ was. Until he came back in moments later. The two of you shared a look before he took his seat back beside Pope. “Her name is Y/N” JJ said finally to the two. “The mystery girl”

I'm playing "Lean on Me" Just so that she knows that she can lean on me, And when she hears the words, I know exactly what I'll say Promise I'm not playing tricks on you, You're always welcome to come in You could stay here for an hour or two, If you ever need a friend

Y/N and JJ had been texting little things to one another. He learned about her more and more. He found out that she was a fellow pogue, from the cut, it was Daniel that was a kook. Daniel. JJ despised him, now he had more of a reason other than the fact he was a kook. She had yet to open up to him about the events that kept bringing her and JJ together. Always saying that it must have been something else or he was hearing things. JJ and the pogues sat around the bonfire in John B’s back yard. JJ lifted his phone when he saw a message from Y/N. She hadn’t answered him in a few days, making him worried, but he did not have any other way to find her. “Y/N: I broke up with him. I could use a friend” JJ read his phone. JJ was shocked, reading it again to make sure he was reading it right. As much as she tried to deny it, Y/N knew JJ had seen the past events and didn’t know where else to go. JJ responded quickly, “Where are you?” She responded telling him that she was walking back to her home. She wasn’t far from the Chateau, so JJ stood up, ignoring the questions from his friends and started in Y/N’s direction. He found her, not too far from the Chateau, arms wrapped around herself, and he could see a bruise forming on her jaw. His heart sank, and his stomach knotted. He felt a wave of nausea rush over him. He wrapped his arms around her figure. She froze at first but gave into the hug. “What was that for?” She asked, pulling away. “You looked like you needed it” He fell into step with her walking. “You should come back to the Chateau with me. If you want to, that is.” He was getting flustered. JJ didn’t know what was happening, he usually would ask a girl back to the chateau with no problem, but like he kept repeating to himself, She was different. “You know what? Why not.” JJ smiled at her words. They found themselves walking in silence. JJ’s eyes kept trailing back to her face, making her smile and blush a little, before focusing back on the road. Every time he did, he couldn't help but notice the bruise on her jaw. He hoped the more he looked that it would disappear because every time he saw it he felt his blood boil. “This is it. The Chateau.” JJ said, making a grand gesture with his hands. He led the two of them through the house to the back yard where the other pogues were dancing. Each had a drink in their hand, making their own silly dance moves. Y/N stopped and smiled, loving how happy everyone looked, how free-spirited the group felt. JJ took a risk and grabbed Y/N’s hand. He pulled her toward the group. “Pogues this is Y/N” he waved at you. “Y/N meet the pogues.” He turned, grabbing Y/N’s other hand and swaying back and forth to the music. She decided to let loose and do the same, swaying to the music. “So this is the mystery girl that JJ had been talking about.” The boy with long brown hair spoke. “I’m John B.” The girl spoke up, “I'm Kie” she said, “and this is Pope.” Kie was trying to take the awkwardness out of the air from John B’s statement. JJ released one of her hands to change the song using the phone propped up on the speaker. He turned to throw an arm around Y/N as the beginning of the song played, the rest of the group smiling and beginning to sway. “Lean on me when you're not strong” The group began to sing along to the song lean on me. “Cause you're gonna need somebody to lean on”  JJ lowered his head to her ear whispering the line to her. “And I’ll be your friend, I’ll help you carry on.” Y/N turned to JJ and smiled, even though it was a song, and he was singing, she knew that he meant the words that he was saying. Things settled down after the song finished playing. John B and Pope start to playfully bicker, drawing Kie in. JJ and Y/N sat on the long log by the fire. JJ nudged her shoulder slightly, getting her attention. “I hope you know I’m not trying to play tricks on you here. You’re always welcome here, you can stay as long as you need if you ever need a friend.” “Thanks J.” She laid her head on his shoulder watching the fire burning in front of them. JJ knew she wasn’t ready to talk about what happened. He knew that when she was though, he would be there for her to help her through it. He put his arm around her shoulder pulling her a little closer seeing the smile on her face growing as she watched the other pogues.

We can talk about the noise when you're ready, but 'til then I'll say, "It must have been the wind, must have been the wind”

Masterlist 

[brelione]

Endgame(Kiara Carrera X Reader)

Request:with kie with a like super rich kook SO and bringing them to meet the rest of the pogues and they all expect to hate them but then not

Kiara had never liked you.Well, she had never reallly met you.She kind of just assumed you were a bitch.You were what Sarah Cameron thought she was, you came from a ridiculously rich family.

Your mother was a brain surgeon and your father was a famous actor so that obviously meant that you were ridiculously rich.Kie had done a lot of research on you, finding your name on your fathers wikipedia page and from there finding your blog where you posted videos of him behind the scenes and personal interviews with him on your youtube channel.

She was up for 16 hours straight watching all of your videos, memorising your intro song.You had a good one million subscribers, posting a lot of blogs and videos showing things that you had found on the beach.She would blush and giggle at your little comments.

 “Hey, beautiful people!Its your bitch and today im gonna show you guys my new surf board because my old one got broke on an accident.I mean, my wrist also broke so if you were gonna comment on it, trust me.I definitely noticed.So before I get into this video I just want to talk about mental health really quickly.”You paused to take in a quick breath, speaking a bit too fast.

Theres a new suicide game and its getting across social media really quick so please do me a favor and stay safe.It doesnt matter what the problem is now, its only temporary and suicide is a permanent solution.I linked some suicide hotlines and free therapy sources in the description so please just keep yourselves healthy and happy for me, okay?Okay, cool.”You licked your lips, calming down from the quick rant.

“Also drink some fucking water!Its hot out and I almost passed out the other day and make sure you get a snack because this video is already fifteen minutes long and im probably gonna be ranting for another hour.”You grinned at the camera.

Kiara bit into a carrot stick, her knees on her chest as she sat in the recliner of her living room. “Watching another documentary?”Her mother asked, noticing that her daughter hadnt moved in hours.Kie shrugged, focusing on you as you dropped your surfboard. “This is exactly how I broke the first one-fuck!”You laughed, picking it back up.

Eventually the boys started to spam her phone, interrupting her binge watching.She left her house with a sigh, walking out to the dock and waiting for the pogues.Thats when she heard your voice.It was quiet as you walked, wearing white jeans and a light blue button up shirt.

 “So you guys always ask me to show you the beach that I find all of my seashells at so thats what we’re-”You paused, looking over to Kiara.She quickly looked away, pretending to be busy on your phone. “Sorry guys, I just saw a really pretty girl.”You whispered to your phone, continuing your walk.

From there she finally worked up the courage to talk to you.She couldnt simply message you on instagram, you had hundreds of thousands of followers so her dm would get lost with all the others.

So she found her prettiest outfit and walked to your house, knocking on the door.You looked at her through the camera of your doorbell, knowing that you had seen her before.You set down your lap top as you were editing, going to answer the door. 

“Hi...um...hi.”She laughed, not planning on getting this far. “Hi, um...what’s up?”You cringed at your words. “Nothing much.I just live a block away and I just thought id say hi...im sorry.”She laughed again, becoming more anxious.

 “Its fine!So um...I dont know, do you wanna maybe hang out sometime?”You asked, leaning against your doorway.She licked her lips, trying her best not to blush. “Yeah, yeah ok.Um...could I get your number?”She asked, holding her phone.

You nodded, giving her your phone number and telling her to text you whenever.Once the door was closed and she had left you were a squealing mess on your couch, recording. 

“So you guys know that pretty girl I was talking about that I saw?Yeah so I just got her number and im low key freaking out-oh god lets just hope she doesnt watch my channel!”You laughed before finishing the editing process, uploading it to youtube.

Kiara got the notification while she was washing her face, watching the video and absolutely losing her mind.She buried her face in her pillow, squealing before deciding to text you.

Unknown number:hey!Its Kiara.Do you wanna hang out tomorrow?

You smiled, letting out a sigh.You screenshotted it, knowing that it would be fun to look back at in the future.

You:Sounds good!Do you want to come over and we can get coffee or lunch or something?

Kie:Okay!!12?

You:Works for me :)

Kie:Okay!

You were anxious the whole night, trying to figure out what to wear.You couldnt decide, posting a poll on your instagram.They decided that you’d be wearing a dark green romper and sandals.You went to bed early since you’d have to wake up before afternoon, heart pounding.

When you woke up it was eleven and you were already behind, hopping in the shower quickly, drying your hair and brushing it, trying to get it to a soft texture.You didnt want to look like you were trying too hard, deciding not to use all of the hair products you’d usually put in your hair before a meeting or a date.

You got into your outfit quickly, pinning your pin back with bobby pins so you could moisturize your face, grabbing your box of beads and parting your hair.You braided the two groups of hair that framed your face, intertwining the beads along the way, securing it with an elastic.

You sighed, twisting a golden flower ring onto your pinkie before going down stairs to sit in your large living room, waiting for Kiara.Your doorbell alerted you to motion outside, getting excited when you saw Kiara walking up to your front door.

She was wearing a pink tube top, light washed jeans with her hair half up and half down, bracelets hugging her wrists.You got up, answering the door the second she rung the bell. “Hi.”You smiled, phone in your pocket.

 “Hi.”She smiled back, looking up and down at you.The two of you got into your car, you driving as you started your drive to a cafe. “So how are you?”You asked, realising you knew nothing about her. “Im good, what about you?”She asked, hands in her lap. “I was up all night editing which obviously sucked but you know, it is what it is.”You replied, biting your lip.

She smiled, knowing she’d end up watching the video. “Editing what?Like an edits account on instagram?”She asked, cringing at how stupid it sounded.You shook your head, slowing down once you got to the main road, searching for a parking spot.

 “No, I have a youtube channel.I kind of just post random shit and hope for the best.”You answered, pulling up next to the cafe.She nodded, turning to look at you. “That’s cool, what kind of stuff do you post?”She asked, resting her chain against her palm.

You bit your lip, glancing over at the cafe. “I post a lot of interviews and random videos of my dad and sometimes he’ll take me to a set with him and i’ll take videos with the cast.I got to meet Scarlet Johannson so thats cool.”You replied, unbuckling your seatbelt.She grinned.

 “Thats fucking awesome-were they in a movie together?”She asked, wanting to hear you talk more. “A show thats coming to Netflix soon, its kind of like a murder mystery meets greek mythology and my dad plays Zeus.We should watch it together.”You answered.

The car was cool but you felt hot, probably because her eyes were focused on you.She nodded, liking the idea of hanging out with you more. “That’d be awesome.”The two of you went inside, the barista grinning at you.

She had always liked you and liked showing up in your vlogs when you came in to get your coffee with boba.She looked to the unknown girl beside you, a small pout on her face. “What can I get for you ladies?”She asked, already preparing your coffee. 

“What do you want, Kie?”You asked, moving aside so she could see the menu. “Uhhh….whats a green frappe?”She asked, squinting at the menu. “Oh-its like a blended matcha latte with like mint and vanilla.It's really good.”You explained.

The two of you sat with your drinks, Kiara laughing as you stabbed the boba bubbles at the bottom of your cup. “You know whats cool?These straws are made of hemp plastic so its-”She cut you off before you could finish.

 “Biodegradable?”She asked.You nodded, glad someone finally knew what you were talking about. “Yeah!And the company is awesome, they have like 10% of sales going to help the Amazon rain forests and another 10% going to help clean the ocean.”You smiled, taking a sip of coffee.

The afternoon had ended with the two of you on the beach, taking photos of eachother discretely while you finished your drinks, searching for sea glass and watching the sun set.Kiara was freaking out on the inside, knowing that she was pretty much dating a celebrity.

It didnt take long after that first day for her to start showing up in your videos.You held your camera as you two walked down the beach, her hand holding yours and twirling you every once in a while, flashing a smile to the camera. 

“So we’re currently on our way to a place that Kie will not tell me about because shes rude.”You spoke, turning the camera to face you.Kiara simply laughed, placing her chin on your shoulder. “Uh...no its because im good at planning surprises.”She answered, grinning when you gasped.

Two surfboards were on the sand along with a blanket and a basket full of fruits, veggies and sandwiches.You cut the camera, giggling and pulling her into a kiss. “Love you.”She grinned, giggling.

 “Love you too.”You replied, looking down at the boards.It didnt take long for the two of you to be in only your swimsuits, grabbing the boards and heading towards the water.You clipped the camera to your board, making sure it was secure before stating to film, catching a few good waves on camera before focusing more on Kie.

 “There she is, showing off for you guys.”You zoomed in on Kiara as she rode the wave, twisting her body to get a beautiful spin on the dark blue wave.She disappeared under the water, resurfacing with a smile and hair on her face, swimming towards you.

 “Did you see that?”She asked, a proud smirk tugging at her lips.You nodded. “How could I miss it?”You asked, earning an eye roll from your girlfriend. “Shut up.”She splashed you, letting out a loud laugh when you splashed back at her.

Turning off the camera, laying on your stomachs against your boards, holding hands so you wouldnt drift away from eachother.It was heaven. “So...ive been thinking lately.”She started, a nervous look on her face.

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. “And I think I want you to meet my friends.”She tapped her fingernails against your surfboard, waiting anxiously for your answer.She had told the boys all about you.

About how you had a huge following on youtube, how your dad was an actor and how you lived in the biggest house on figure eight.She had tried her best to tell them that you werent like the others, that you were fantastic and humble.

But of course they didnt believer her and ‘would believe it when they saw it’.She knew that if she didnt end up introducing you to them sooner or later that she’d lost the chance to introduce you at all.

You nodded, considering it. “Yeah, okay.When?”You asked, hoping you’d at least have time to think about this. “Tomorrow.”She replied, wincing when you let out a small shout. “Tomorrow?Shit-Kie, im not ready!”You exclaimed, covering your mouth when you realised how loud you had been. 

“Babe, chill.Let me pick out your outfit and it’ll be fine.”She insisted.You gave in, the two of you paddling back to the sand, wrapping up in your towels and sitting on the blanket, eating some cutie oranges.

She spent the night at your house, holding on tight to you even though the two of you were in a king sized bed and she had more than enough space to spread out like a starfish.

The morning came too fast, Kiara raiding your closet for something appropriate for the occasion, pleased when she came across a black bathing suit and a yellow shirt along with some jeans, tossing them at you. 

“Babe, you gotta get up.”She told you, already dressed and ready to go.You groaned, finally getting up a few minutes later, slowly changing and not even bothering to pick up your pajamas.You were still sore from last night, stretching your limbs as you pulled the jeans up your body.The boys were spamming her phone, making her annoyed.

Dumb Blonde:Where are you guys

God:Are you bringing them with you

Trash Rat:Dont bring them with you 

Trash Rat:The place is a mess

Trash Rat:Kie

Trash Rat:Kiara

Trash Rat:Kiara Madelyn Klark Carrera

God:Where are you guys

Dumb Blonde:Wait are they the one with the dad that was in that one movie

She ignored their texts, turning off her notifications and sending you a quick smile, promising to get you an iced coffee on the way.You were half asleep in the passengers seat until she handed you a french vanilla iced coffee, slowly becoming awake.

By the time you had finished your coffee she had pulled into John.B’s drive way, hand on your thigh in attempts to calm you down. “You’re gonna be fine, babe.Everyone likes you, they just havent met you yet.”She grinned, getting out of the car.

You squeezed her hand, following her into the house.The boys were all sitting on the couch, looking up once the two of you had entered.JJ immediately looked you up and down, raising an eyebrow.You felt a bit insecure, trying to figure out what he thought of you.

 “This is (Y/N).(Y/N), these are the boys.Thats John.B, thats JJ and thats Pope.”She pointed to each of the boys.The tension in the room was ridiculous until Kiara pulled you into her lap, the boys looking between eachother. “So whats it like having a movie star as a dad?”JJ asked, the first one to speak up.

You bit your bottom lip, pulling at the skin on your hands. “umm...its really cool sometimes.Chris Hemsworth is a family friend so thats cool but like...I cant go anywhere with him when he’s home without getting followed around and there was this one teenage girl stalking him once and she was climbing our house and was watching me sleep.”You answered, relieved when you heard Pope chuckle. 

“Wait, actually?Thats so scary.”He replied, the two of you beginning to calm down a bit.You, John.B and JJ were all conversating about Chris Hemsworth, all of them asking a lot of questions.

 “Wait-who else have you met from the Avengers?”John.B asked. “I met Scarlet Johanson and Chris Evans.”You replied.Kiara smacked your leg. “You met Christ Evans and never told me?”She asked, outraged.

You rolled your eyes, pulling out your phone to show them the vlog that Chris had made an appearance in.Kiara was just confused as to why she had never seen it before you informed her that it was private. 

“Ew-ignore my face.Just wait a few seconds.”You told them, the phone between the circle that had ended up forming. “Oh my god!Its Chris Evans!”JJ shouted, staring at the phone.Chris had leaned over your shoulder, saying a quick ‘hello’ to the camera before Scarlet stole it from you. 

“This is Scarlet Johannson and I have decided to take over my new role as (Y/N)’s mom.Im sorry (Y/M/N) but they’re mine now.”She smiled.Her hair had been dyed a light blonde, red lipstick and light eyeshadow.

You had been freaking out the whole time. “Wait-will you ever see her again?”JJ asked.You hummed, sure that she’d be making an appearance for a Christmas Party. “Can you tell her I love her, please?”He asked, face red. “She reaches my vlogs-do you guys want to be in one?”You offered, remembering that you had your camera in your bag.

They all agreed, excited as you took out your camera, Kiara holding onto you. “So Kiara introduced me to her friends today and JJ has a special message for Scarlet.”You grinned, pointing the camera towards him. “Marry me, please.”He winked, giggling.

Pope flashed a peace sign at the camera, John.B sticking out his tongue and doing finger guns. “This is John.B and this is Pope, and then we have Kie as always.”You pointed the camera at her.She bit her lip, winking at the camera and making you laugh.

 “Oh my god- what is this vlog.”You shook your head, turning off the camera.When you had posted the vlog that night you were spammed with comments demanding JJ’s instagram and of course you had to give the people what they wanted.

JJ was more than happy to have a ton of pretty girls hyping him up in his comments, Pope getting a lot of attention as well.Scarlet had made sure to let you know that she had watched it and to tell JJ that he was too young for her but she was flattered by the offer.But then your instagram was being spammed.You were being tagged in dozens of edits of you and Kie along with one of you and JJ.But the comments on that one were so funny.

Kieand(Y/N)4life:bruh no

(Y/N)officialfanpage:no <3

(Y/N)officialfanpage:Kiara and them are meant to be bb

Kiara(Y/L/N):Kiara and them are meant to be buddy

KIEANDYNAREENDGAME:uhhh isnt it confirmed that Kiara and (Y/N) are dating?

“They’re catching on.”You told Kie, sitting down on the bed and showing her all the things you were tagged in.She grinned, telling you to post and make it official. “You sure?”You asked.She nodded, fixing her hair as you got ready to take a photo, kissing her cheek. She bit her lip, watching you type.

We are endgame.

@poguestyleskye  @jjtheangel @lovelyelinor @messuhp  @outerbongs  @copper-boom  @httpstarkey @teenwaywardasgardian @drewswannabegirl  @simonsbluee   @jiaraendgame  @khiaraaa-in-spacee  @on-socks-off  @abbiesthings @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @i-love-scott-mccall​

[virtueangel]

limitless.

chapter eighteen.

wc: 2,090. original publish date: november 12, 2020. 

"Oh my god, finally," Vincent whines once JFK pulls his car into the parking lot.

"Hey, why are you complaining? I'm the one who just had to drive for three hours," JFK replies. "Besides, you could've chosen a closer destination."

Van Gogh gives Kennedy a warning glare. "Hey! No fighting today!"

John shrugs. "You started it."

Vincent takes a deep breath. "Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot." He unbuckles his seatbelt and leans across the centre console to give JFK a kiss on the lips, deep and slow.

Kennedy grins. "That's more like it."

The boys climb out of the car, and Vincent is immediately hit by a gush of icy wind. He pulls his letterman jacket tighter around himself, one hand flying up to his head to secure the bandages. His fiery orange hair dances in front of his eyes and whips him in the face. JFK smiles to himself, taking in the way the boy's freckles pop out against his flushed cheeks. He never really could deal with the cold.

"So, why'd you bring us to the ocean?" John questions, locking the car before turning back to Van Gogh. He bends an arm against his hip and holds it out to the smaller boy, who wraps his hands around his boyfriend's biceps. They step off of the concrete of the parking lot and onto the sandy beach, linked just like that.

"Because it's actually sunny today. I thought it might be nice."

JFK stifles a laugh, looking down at bundled-up Van Gogh. "And how's that working out for you?"

Vincent bats at Kennedy playfully. "Don't start with me."  

JFK leads them down the beach, towards a huge, barnacled rock close to the shoreline. The sand is harder and wetter over here, which Van Gogh is grateful for. He doesn't like when the dry sand collects between the laces of his Keds. It's such a fuss to clean out and it always stains the white laces brown.

The ocean is calm, but small waves still lap at the sand. The water fizzes and leaves sea foam on the beach, bits of rocks and shells and plastic trapped in it. The waves crash in a syncopated fashion, the sound a low enough hum to fall asleep to. Vincent gazes out across the water, smiling reservedly at the view. The sun reflects off of the emerald water, and the ocean seems to last forever. He imagines walking right into the surf with his clothes and shoes on, letting the waves submerge him and pull him into the abyss. What a heavenly way to die.

"I wish I knew where my sketchbook was," he murmurs, delicate fingers still wrapped around JFK's bicep. "I don't think I'd draw this. It's too grand for that. I'd paint it."

"In your sketchbook?"

Van Gogh shrugs, eyes still taking in the ocean. "I don't have a canvas."

John grins, but not in his over-eager toothpaste model fashion. He grins in contentedness, in reservation, in affection, in... love. "I'll be your canvas."

Vincent turns to the boy, sure he's joking. "I'm sure you'd love having oil paint on your washboard abs."

JFK laughs and shakes his head. "You're probably right."

The two stand there for some minutes longer, just basking in the shimmering sun and letting their noses fill up with pleasantly salty air. It's been so long since either of them have gone to the beach. Exclamation! is a landlocked town in a landlocked state.

"Do you want to take a walk?" Kennedy whispers after a while, hesitant to break the silence.

"I think that would be okay."

They start walking, slowly. They haven't gotten very far when Vincent says, "Wait."

JFK stops. "What is it?"

Van Gogh unwraps himself from John and bends down to untie his Keds. He slides his shoes off of his feet, hopping on one foot as he takes his socks off. He balls his socks up and places them in his shoes.

"You wanna carry those...?" Kennedy starts.

Vincent shakes his head and tucks them into a split in the rock. "You wanna take off yours?"

JFK bends down to untie his sneakers. He pulls his socks off, not bothering to remove them one at a time. He doesn't care if the bottoms get dirty. He balls the socks up and shoves them into his sneakers before handing them to Van Gogh, who stacks them up next to his own shoes in the rock crevice.

They resume their walk. Vincent slides his hand down JFK's arm until it meets with the taller boy's hand, warm and rough against his small palm.

"Your fingers are so long," JFK says.

Vincent giggles nervously. "That's such an odd comment to make."

John shakes his head lightly. "It's not a bad thing."

"I like the way my hand fits in yours," Van Gogh says.

JFK smiles, his insides melting, warm and gooey like a fresh chocolate chip cookie. "Good, because I like the way your hand fits into mine."

Vinnie speaks after a while, the fizz of the sea foamy waves suddenly deafening in the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

"Okay."

Van Gogh takes a deep breath, letting the rise and fall of his chest soothe him. "What's your favourite thing about me?"

Jack grins. "My favourite thing about you?"

Vincent nods.

JFK goes silent, taking a moment to think before answering. "There isn't just one thing."

"You can give me more than one," Van Gogh says, hoping he doesn't sound too hopeful as his mouth pulls into a giddy smile.

"I like the way you look in the mornings, when I wake up and you're still asleep. I like the way your hair falls over your eyes and the way the t-shirt you sleep in is too big for you and the sleeves go all the way down to your elbows. I like the way your cheeks flush pink in the cold, and I like the way you tie your shoelaces. I like the way you can focus so hard on the book you're reading that you don't even notice the world around you. It's like your book is your world. I wish I could do that. Fall into something, the way you do."

"It gets boring after awhile," Vincent offers. "Or sometimes I get too lost and it's jarring when you say my name."

"Well," JFK starts. "I'm sorry."

"Is that it?" Van Gogh asks after a second. "Those are all the things you like about me?"

JFK smiles. He opens his mouth and closes it, trying words out on his tongue before saying them out loud. "I like watching you when you pick at your nails. I know you probably don't mean to do it, but... I don't know. I guess there's this fluidity about it. Your fingernails are so healthy and long, it's just... god, I don't know. This is kind of embarrassing." The taller boy laughs at himself, his cheeks turning pink.

Gogh blushes. "You can keep going, if you want to."

John laughs goodheartedly, but intends to continue nonetheless. He's not done. He won't be done for a while. Every thought he's ever had about Van Gogh rushes back into his head -- they've been best friends since they were in grade school. But they were never really just friends, were they? All those Friday nights that JFK would spend at the boy's house keeping him company while his parents were away; all those times Vincent would call him in the middle of the night, begging him to come over because he couldn't fall asleep in an empty house and how JFK would always going over, no matter how late it was -- none of that is something just friends do. He thinks about every time Vincent's gaze would linger on him a split second longer than normal and how he always pretended not to notice. He thinks about how Vincent's is the only contact in his phone that is a nickname followed by a string of emojis instead of a mundane first and last name. He thinks about how he took books off of Vincent's bookshelf without asking just because he wanted to read the same words the boy had, just because he wanted to know his fingers were grazing over spines that Vincent's had. He thinks about the times he'd let Vincent paint his nails, about the times he'd let Vincent pick out his outfits for school. How both of them had thought their relationship was a friendship that everyone had -- how they'd neglected to pick up on the signs that everyone else had noticed long ago.

"I like the way you wear a yellow raincoat and matching rain boots when it's wet outside. I like the way you always put the pillows on your bed in the same arrangement, and I like the way you dance to music even when it's playing through your earbuds. I like the way you mouth the words to the book you're reading when you're concentrating really hard. I like the way you hold your pencil when you're drawing, like it'll float away if you loosen your grip even a little bit. I like the way you bend over when you're writing -- really writing -- with one elbow bent on the table and your fingers threaded through your hair. I like the way you actually use one of those little plastic hourglasses with the yellow sand in it to time yourself while you're brushing your teeth. I like the way you're the only person I know who actually brushes their teeth for two minutes."

This last part earns a stifled laugh from Van Gogh.

"But most of all, I like the way that you sing along to music in the car, how you keep your voice low because you don't want me to hear you but of course I still can anyway."

"Do I sound horrible?"

JFK shakes his head. "No."

Van Gogh smiles, looking away. He's never felt like this before, like... he's exactly where he's supposed to be. He isn't worried about being left alone on Friday nights, or insecure about the way he constantly reorganises his bedroom. For once in his life, he doesn't feel uncomfortable or like he needs to run away. He wants to fall, fall into JFK, and he doesn't need a rope for security.

"The ocean is freezing cold," Vincent says, because that's the only sentence he can reach for.

Kennedy grins and slides his arms out of his letterman jacket. He pulls his red and white striped sweater over his head next before unzipping his khakis. He stands in front of Vincent wearing only his white t-shirt and underwear. Vincent sighs and takes off his own layers until his outfit matches JFK's, and they walk into the surf, hand in hand.

"Jesus fuck, Jack," Vincent exclaims, a salty wave pushing into his thighs.

JFK wraps his arms around Vincent, pulling the boy close. Van Gogh buries his face in John's t-shirt, now soaked and smelling of salt. He doesn't mind, though. He'll take whatever warmth he can get.

Kennedy rests his chin on Van Gogh's head, kissing the boy's bandage every once in a while. He shivers a little bit, but he ignores the cold setting into his skin. He pulls Vincent closer, and the boy wraps his arms around JFK's midsection. John gazes out across the water as Van Gogh shuts his eyes against his boyfriend's chest.

The world is silent except for the calm lapping of the waves and the fizzing of the sea foam. Except for the temperature of the water, it is perfect -- no freights honking in the distance, no seagulls screeching overhead. Vincent slides his hands underneath JFK's shirt, feeling the warmth radiating off the skin of his back. His pale legs turn even paler as they erupt in goosebumps, but there's nowhere he'd rather be.

JFK lets out a low laugh from his throat, and Vincent draws back from his chest.

"What?" He asks, looking up at the boy.

John's face falls soft, and his bottom lip surrenders to the faintest trace of a quiver. "I'm in love with you."

Van Gogh shifts his bodyweight and leans back, curving his chin up so his mouth meets JFK's. They share a kiss, deep and slow, the salty ocean burning their bare thighs.

"I was hoping you might be."

It's the closest thing to I love you that he's ever given anyone.

[baby-grayson]

Kind Stranger| Part 2|GBD

Read Part 1 Here

 Word Count: 2.8k (teeny tiny)

Trigger Warning: quarantine talk Tags (Thank you to the amazing dumpling that taught me how to do this!!): @evergreendolan​ @someonetogray​ @vintagedolan​ A/N: Thank you to everyone who gave me their thoughts on the first part. Please let me know what you think on this one, I love getting any kind of feedback. 

Grayson opened his eyes as the earliest rays of sunlight trickled in through his window. He pushed himself out of his bed and began his morning routine in a daze: half asleep as he brushed his teeth and found a clean pair of underwear. His consciousness awoke during his daily piece of avocado toast, which he ate while enjoying the view from their kitchen window. In his groggy state, he left the plate at the table when he went to put a load of laundry in the washer. He took the liberty of moving Ethan’s clothes from the washer to the dryer and starting it for him.

Grayson retrieved his phone from his nightstand, opening twitter for a brief scroll. He and Ethan published their video about Ethan’s acne yesterday; twitter was not very pleased with them. Grayson’s jaw tightened as he read the accusations about him and his brother. Grayson forcefully planted his phone back on his nightstand. He ran his hands through his hair, thinking back to the long nights on the couch where he wrapped an arm around Ethan’s shoulder and consoled him through his journey towards self-love. Without opening it again, Grayson shoved his phone in his pocket before grabbing the keys to the van from on top of his dresser. Walking out of the house, he quickly scanned the entryway and living room. He stopped and went back to place his avocado toast plate into the sink, reminding himself to wash it when he got home. He scanned again, not seeing anything out of place. Silently, he wished Ethan sweet dreams from across the house and slipped out the front door.

His breath left him when he reached the shore at his favorite morning beach. His lips turned down, jaw tightening as he noticed that her footsteps laid in the sand before he arrived. “Of fucking course,” Grayson groaned softly before collapsing down to the ground. It wasn’t enough that his brother was being accused of ugly things by strangers, but he missed crossing paths with Kate for the first time in the two weeks since their nearly silent friendship started. He laid back on the sand, feeling thousands of tiny, jagged pieces creep under his shirt and into the waistband of his shorts.

For a fraction of a second, Grayson thought about grabbing his phone from his pocket and looking again at the comments. He stopped himself quickly. Taking a deep breath, he knew the best way to deal with this feeling was with Ethan by his side. Ethan grounded him. Ethan tethered him back to Earth. Ethan was the cautious, practical mind to Grayson’s own idealistic, fanciful one. Grayson thought about Ethan, at home and laying in his bed. He hoped his brother slept well and long. Poor Ethan was going to wake up to the same storm that greeted Grayson.

No, he’s not going to think about this, Grayson decided dwelling on this topic was no use without his brother. Grayson sat up, his eyes followed Kate’s footsteps all the way to the right and then all the way to the left. Why was he so excited to see her? She was just a girl. A pretty girl, sure. But Grayson had met lots of pretty girls over the years. Damn, Ethan was right…maybe Gray was getting desperate. Next thing you know, he would be writing love letters to the old lady at the grocery store check out counter.

Damning Ethan aside, Grayson was genuinely excited to see Kate. She had crossed his mind more than once during his morning drive. He didn’t know anything about her. Grayson looked down at her footprints again, the only sign that she had already crossed the shore. He squinted.

One footprint was deeper than the other. Odd. He reached over with his own thumb to make sure his eyes were not tricking him. Yup, one foot was a whole half-thumb deeper than the other. Maybe she wears weird shoes. He didn’t think long on this before kicking some sand into the footprint. He swung his shirt from his head and rested it beside him. He laid back. If he couldn’t surf, and he couldn’t talk to a pretty girl, the least he could do was work on his tan.

The sun felt good on his skin. His breathing slowed, and he found a serene inner quiet. On that early Thursday morning, on a secluded beach in Malibu, Grayson found a moment of peace. 

“You’re late” He grinned, feeling his face get warm.

“I thought you already left,” he opened his eyes to be greeted by her smile. “You do realize I have to walk back to get to my car right?” she chuckled and kicked off her sandals. She laid her purse in the sand and dropped to sit beside Grayson. He noted a sweet, citrus scent as she settled down on the sand.

“I guess I didn’t think about you having a car, you kind of just appeared here every day” “That’s fair, I’m probably just a figment of your imagination.” If it wasn’t for her laugh, Grayson would have considered that a possibility. “That is a possibility,” he chuckled, “why do you come out here anyways?”

She paused for a moment. Grayson noticed the sea breeze lift her dark locks from her shoulders. “I’m new to town,” she decided on. “Being stuck in my apartment during a pandemic, when I don’t know anyone around here gets real boring, real quick.” Grayson nodded in agreement. “What about you? I’m surprised you’re here without your board.”

Grayson sucked in a soft breath against his teeth, “I like being here. I mean, I like the beach. It’s a good place to get away, have a moment.” “Wow, that’s deep dude.” She looked at him with a glossy look in her eye and her lips pursed. Grayson looked back, feeling his cheeks get warm again. She threw her head back and let out a loud laugh. “I’m sorry. Sarcasm isn’t nice,” she said with a warm smile. Grayson shook his head softly and smiled at her, “I’m down with it.” Was that cringe? It sounded cringe. “But no, I really love the beach. I guess it’s my space to not have to think about the rest of the world.” “Hm..how California boy of you,” Grayson chuckled along with her this time. She was cute, the way she poked gentle fun at him. She was silly. “So you said you’re new here? where are you from?” She started “West Philadelphia born and raised, on the playground is where I spent most of my days” Grayson joined in “Chilin out maxin relaxin all cool, shooting some b-ball outside in the hood” They shared a warm laugh. Grayson grinned as she flashed him one of her bright smiles. “But really, where are you from?” He probed. She laughed, “West Philly, born and raised. Weren’t you listening?!” They giggled together.

“That’s cool,” he responded as his smile grew wider by the second. “I’m from just over the river in New Jersey.”

“Oh, so you’re not a native California boy. So tell me— how long do I have before the water gets to me and I turn into a blonde, Instagram goddess?” There she goes again, soft pokes. Kind of like kindergarten.

“I’m not sure. I’ve been here five years and I have yet to turn into a goddess if that means anything”

She laughed, “Well it’s good to know time is on my side.” She played with the brown leather band of a simple wristwatch. She looked down at the watch face and mumbled, “shit.” She started to gather her purse and sandals from the sand and stand as she said, “I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late for…something.” She wrestled her sandals onto her feet.

Grayson felt a wave of awkwardness wash over his body. Should he offer to walk her to the car? No, that’s too much. Should he ask what she’s going to be late for? Maybe that’s a little creepy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” She pushed her hair behind her ears, looking down at Grayson on the ground. “Yeah I’ll be here tomorrow.” Grayson smiled shyly, more aware of his body language now than he had been for the past half hour.

She started to walk up the beach but looked back at him, “Don’t be late! Bye Grayson” His name sounded good coming out of her mouth.

”Bye Kate!” Shit, I should have asked for her number.

Once she was out of earshot, Grayson groaned out loud and threw a rock into the ocean. He watched the tiny, smooth thing pierce through the rough, complicated ocean surface. Grayson wiped the sand off his body as he stood up and started to walk back to his van.

When Grayson arrived home, he found Ethan at the counter, in his underwear, eating some cereal and dairy free milk. “You see twitter?” Ethan commented as Grayson put his keys down. For a small moment, Grayson had forgotten about the video fiasco. For a second, he had forgotten about every part of his place on the internet. His tough but clearly upset brother brought him back to reality. Grayson moved toward the counter and wrapped a familiar arm around Ethan’s shoulders.

 ***********

As Grayson settled into bed, later that same day, his mom called him. His mother asked if he and Ethan were willing to fly out to New Jersey to spend the weekend with her. His mother told him that his sister was coming for the weekend and she wanted all of her kids under the same roof for a few nights. Grayson told his mom that he and Ethan would make it out to Jersey for the weekend, wished her a good night, and said he loved her. Grayson used his phone to buy two plane tickets for Friday evening: tomorrow evening.

He thought about Kate. What if he doesn’t show up on Saturday and Kate thinks he’s not interested? Or mean? Or weird? Or a flake? And deep down, in a place he wasn’t ready to touch yet, he wanted more of her. He found solace in how different she was, so grounded and natural compared to his LA lifestyle. His own slice of New Jersey on a California beach.

He wanted to go back and talk to her every day, all day, until they both lost their voices and had to draw pictures in the sand to communicate. He had yet to separate these deep feelings from his general loneliness, it had been over a year since he was more than anyone’s ‘Netflix and Chill’. Ethan had taken to calling him desperate and urging Grayson to audition for the Bachelor. He pushed these thoughts aside, not having the emotional bandwidth to process this all right now. He was going to ask for her number. People still did that right? Maybe it had been too long for Grayson…

 **********

The next morning, Grayson felt the beach winds move through his loose muscle shirt. He ran a hand through his hair, still getting used to its new short form. He decided against sitting on the sand since he was not intending to be planted on the ground today.

The decision not to sit started his anxiety. He was changing their routine, what if she wasn’t okay with it? Why didn’t he think of this earlier? How long were they going to spend together? What if she was just being nice? What is it that she called herself? Yeah what if she was just being a kind stranger?

Once more, he ran a hand through his hair. He plunged both of his hands into his pockets to prevent any future hair touching. He took a deep breath in, listened to a wave break on the shore, and released the air from his lung. When he looked up, a dainty, happy figure was walking toward him. “Good Morning” she said sweetly. “Good Morning,” Grayson smiled and took his hands out of his pockets. Oh no, did he just mess up his outfit? “Would you believe this is the first time I’ve seen you standing up?” she placed a hand over her eyes to look up at his face against the light of the sun. “I promise I don’t usually spend a lot of time on my ass” Was that funny? That was supposed to be funny..

She took a moment to look him up and down. Her eyes locked on his. “I thought you’d be taller”

Grayson laughed heartily while she smiled with an accomplished look on her face. He quieted down and found a moment when they were just standing there, looking at each other. A happy Grayson let the moment hang in the air before saying, “Can I join you? I’m curious to see where this beach leads.” A half-truth. Kate smiled and nodded “Yeah, come along. But don’t be disappointed, it just leads to more beach.” Grayson already knew that, but he nodded along anyway, “Still, I feel like a walk” The pair started along the shoreline together. Grayson smelled her familiar sweet, citrus scent. He felt the sunshine down on his arms and the exposed parts of his back, energizing his entire body. Her bright eyes met his and they shared a smile. From a few yards away, they heard a peculiar, gulping noise. Grayson looked up while Kate pointed and laughed at a seagull attempting to eat an entire banana.

Once again, on that Malibu beach, early in the morning, Grayson found a rare moment of peace. He looked down, seeing his large footsteps align with her tiny ones. I should say something, I should say something. Grayson felt his face go hot again. Grayson gulped down again, shaking his palms subtly to dislodge the sweat coming to the surface of his skin. He looked down at her face, beaming brighter than the sun on that Friday morning.

Grayson looked down at their feet, watching her walk along the sand. He saw her right leg dig deep into the sand, gracefully holding her body up. Then, he saw her left leg meekly touch the surface of the sand before trading off duty to the other leg. The footprints…

“Did you hurt yourself?” Grayson gestured down to her left side.

She stiffened. Her shoulders fell back like a toy soldier; small and inviting but erect and ready. Grayson’s eyes wandered to her lips; her full pink mouth sat pursed above her chin. She let out a small breath before replying. “No…I have a bad leg.” Grayson heard the period at the end of the sentence. She was curt with her words, but not harsh.   “Oh, I’m sorry…” Was he sorry for asking? Or sorry that she had a bad leg? Well, he was sorry for both, so it didn’t really matter.

She nodded softly. Silence hung in the air around them. On one side of them, the ocean crashed into the shore. On the other side, an eerily quiet LA hid behind the cliffs. “Speaking of injuries,” she broke the silence, “how’s your foot?” “It’s doing better, “Grayson noted, “I’ll probably be back on my board by Monday.” Or maybe Tuesday, or Wednesday, or Thursday… “well if you came out looking like that, I would hate to see the other guy,” she smiled sweetly at him, “even though he’s a pebble” she held in a small giggle. “Funny you say that, I’m leaving tonight to spend the weekend with my mom. I’m worried that I might meet a mean pinecone and injure the other foot,” Grayson joked. “I’ll be here if you’re in need of anymore emergency medicine” she quipped back. “Thanks for the offer,” he chuckled. “But I’m actually going home to Jersey for a few days, so I’ll be too far away for any in person care.” Grayson swallowed hard in his throat. “Could I have your number?”

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. Was that funny? Did she like it? Did she like him? Was she just being polite? Was that okay? It probably wasn’t okay. He hadn’t done this for like a year and a half. Do people still use phone numbers? What if she says no, how does he play it off? He felt a single bead of sweat dance down his neck and meander its way down his back.

She looked at him. She really looked at him. She saw the diamond embeds on his canine teeth. She saw the silver chain on his neck, sparkling in the reflection of the sun. She saw the tattoos covering his legs. She saw his muscles bulging through his tank top. He was so LA, so very LA and yet he wasn’t. And that part of him that was so not LA, made her say “Yeah, of course you can.” A/N: Thank you for reading! I really appreciate it! I would love to get feedback on the length. I prefer to write in short pieces but edit them heavily before I post them. I can write longer parts but it will take more time. Also, I know the pacing is a slow so tell me how you do/don’t like that.  Thank you again for reading bb <3

[glenncoco4]

What Happens Next?

A/N: Chapter 12

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She had a feeling this day would come sooner or later. Her husband being the Assistant District Attorney, her team doing what they do...that and the fact that she’s almost 5 months pregnant and starting to show, this meeting was inevitable. So here she is, sitting in the court room as her man does his thing, Sam and Callen nowhere to be found. Just as Marty calls his next witness, the ex-Navy SEAL and his partner make their way into the semi-quite room, taking their seats on the empty bench behind the two brunettes.

After the prosecution brings about new evidence, the judge calls recess until the next morning. Marty smiles, sending his wife a wink. He likes to show off in front of her, and he’s super glad that he does’t have to miss their afternoon plans.

As the rest of the team walks into the rotunda, Kensi stands at the door in wait for Marty to wrap up what he’s doing with his colleagues. She exchanges pleasantries with the familiar faces as they begin to trickle out the door until the golden locks finally appear in front of her. “You ready for this?”

“You talking about you meeting my team or finding out the gender of this peanut?”

“Either…both?”

“Both. Definitely both.”

“Did you talk to Talia?”

“Yeah, she’s more excited about seeing the looks on Sam and Callen’s faces than I am.”

Sam and Callen watch on as their teammate and the lawyer have a conversation, sharing smiles. Curiosity getting the best of them.

The ex-Navy SEAL turns to the other brunette of the team, his brow furrowed. “Hey, Talia, I didn’t know Kensi was so chummy with the ADA.”

All she does is smile, shrugging at the question about two of her best friends. God this is gonna be good.

“If he’s as smooth with the ladies as he is in the court room then I’d half expect to see him more often.” Callen takes in Kensi’s sudden change in demeanor as she continues to talk to the lawyer. She almost seems less tense…happier even.

“I guess sooner than we expected.”

Talia turns her attention to see her partner and the ADA walk towards them, a knowing smile on her face.

Once they reach her teammates, they exchange smiles before Sam stretches his hand out in greeting. “Hey, nice work in there, man.”

Marty returns the smile as he takes his offered hand. This may be funnier than his wife imagined. “Thanks.”

“Eh, I’ve seen better.” Talia spirts, playfully challenging the lawyer.

He raises his brow, accepting her challenge. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, I was in court last week when James destroyed that blonde lawyer.”

“First of all that was a debate and second of all-“

“Miss Congeniality is better than A League of Their Own, yeah, yeah.” Talia rolls her eyes, knowing exactly what was about to come out of his mouth. It had been one Friday night where the couples couldn’t decide what to watch so both Marty and James decide to take the matter to ‘court,’ court being the Deeks’ living room.

Sam and Callen exchange a look before spreading their attention between the other three. “Are we missing something here?”

“Yeah, do you guys know each other?” Callen follows up with his own question.

“Oh, yeah, I met Marty here awhile ago. He actually set me and my husband up.”

Affronted by her partner’s words, Kensi feigns outrage. “Hey!”

“What?”

The agent looks at her partner as if she reminding her that she was there as well even though it was her husband’s idea.

Talia just rolls her eyes, turning back to Sam and Callen. “Sorry. And his wife.”

“Oh, so you’re married.” Sam states.

Marty’s eyes light up at the mention of the woman who he’s so deeply in love with that sometimes it’s sickening to others. 6 years together, 3 years married, a kid with one on the way…yeah, he’s smiling. “Yeah. Going on 3 years now.”

Callen takes in Kensi’s smile, caught off guard because he really thought she was flirting the lawyer earlier. “And how do you know him?”

“Actually he and his wife set me and my guy up as well.” The brunette bites back a smile as she hears her husband and partner try and stifle their laughter. She shouldn’t be having this much fun, but it’s pretty great knowing something that these two “operators” think they have figured out.

Sam’s brow furrows, mirroring his partner, both clearly lost. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

“I don’t.”

As if on cue, Talia catches sight of the clock on the wall. Perfect timing. “Hey, don’t you have the-“

Marty looks at his watch, a birthday present from his wife, and his heart picks up speed, seeing the time. “Oh, yeah, didn’t realize the time." In a couple of hours they should know the gender of their peanut and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t hoping for a little girl. “I’ll catch you guys later.”

Shaking each of the men’s hand, Marty begins to walk off towards the entrance before turning around, noticing that his wife isn’t following. “Um, baby?”

At the sound of her husband calling for her, she turns her head, a questioning look across his face when it hits her. “Oh, right. Mommy brain.” Shaking her head, she bids her teammates a farewell, not missing the deer in headlights look written across the ex-Navy SEAL and former spook’s faces.

“Wait, you two?”

The pregnant agent raises her arms in victory as she walks towards her laughing husband.Yeah, that was fun.

XXXX

Kensi finds herself practically being drug into the ocean front shop by her husband, much like she was 2 years ago. This was their plan from the get go but after her doctor’s appointment, Marty got even more excited. She can’t help but laugh at their attire, he in a 3 piece suit and she in pencil skirt and blouse. They definitely don’t look like the usual customers.

As soon as they step through the doors, the blonde lawyer makes a b-line to the tiny surf boards, already knowing exactly what he’s getting.

The agent watches in amazement as her husband walks straight up to a board and takes it off the rack. “You weren’t kidding when you said we wouldn’t be long.”

Heat rises to his cheeks at her words. “I may have scoped out ahead of time to make sure they had one in stock.”

She gives him a knowing look, a grin playing at her lips at how adorable he is, but also not believing him for a minute.

“Okay, so maybe I came in yesterday to stare at it.”

“You’re cute. You know that?” Leaning forward, her lips find his. A smile plays at his lips as he leans in for one more. Yep, adorable.

Carrying the board under one arm, his free hand finds her, intertwining their fingers as they make their way to the familiar face behind the counter.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Mark. It's been awhile.”

The shaggy brunette sends the couple a smile. “A few months, and I see congratulations are in order.” He takes the piece of fiberglass from the lawyer much like he did two years ago but this time there’s one distinct difference. “Purple Channel Island. So you got yourself a little Betty on the way.”

“Yeah."

Kensi looks at her husband, seeing the dreamy look across his face and turns back to Mark unable to keep the smile off her own face. “He’s been like this ever since the doctor confirmed it an hour ago.”

“Understandable.” He nods, knowing first hand what Marty’s feeling. “So, the same font and color as Finn’s board or do you guys want to switch it up?”

She shares a knowing look with her husband giving him the go ahead. “Same.”

“Alright, if I can get the name.”

As the couple’s baby girl’s name comes off Kensi's lips, Mark types the letters, and clicks the mouse a few times. Once he’s pleased, he turns the screen to the couple, giving them a nice view of what the board will look like once completed. “So this is the rendering. If everything looks good, I’ll get started on it tomorrow and call you when it’s ready.”

“That’s great. Thanks, Mark.”

“You’re definitely welcome, guys. And hey, bring little dude by and we’ll set him up with one of our new baby training boards.”

“They make those?” Marty’s brow furrows.

“It’s pretty new technology but Kelly Slater uses it with his little one so I’d say it’s pretty reliable.”

“Cool. We’ll stop by this weekend.” Kensi takes hold of her husband’s hand, now the one pulling him to the entrance because if she doesn’t they’ll be here all day and she’s really hungry.

“See you guys.”

Once they step onto the board walk, the fresh evening air hits them, her arms immediately encircling one of his. “How about we go pick up Finn and then have dinner at the pier?”

His lips find her forehead. “I like the way you think, my love.”