#we can all make a big gorgeous salty beach together- <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[d8tl55c]

im having trouble assigning one metric like age, weight, vitals, emotional state, etc. to memory usage because it's such a computer-y concept- maybe a combination of several of those things?

when you're talking about memory... uh... it's not really...

it's weird- UM- heRE's HOw RAM WORKS:

.

in general* there's two ways to handle data:

slow to access, but i can store a lot of data basically forever, or super fast, but i can only store a little, temporarily.

RAM (Random Access Memory) is the second option. it's a physically different chip from the long-term-big-storage one, and it is designed to multitask many, many file accesses/calculations/other processes at once. video games, modeling/editing/animation software, and web browsers commonly eat up a lot of RAM (a LOT: check out Flash up there at the top easily munching 300 thousand K* for the simplest possible animation) *we are going to pretend it's that simple because trying to research this further made the later sections of RUSH-E start blasting in my head :) (further reading that looks correct probably about things that are and aren't the "active private working set" (column displayed by default in Task Manager -> Details and the animation))

(here's 3 windows of 18 tabs of OperaGX as an example)

so it's not really the runtime of the program ("im not sure if their memory usage is reliant on how long they've been existing..."), but what its function is, that foreshadows its required RAM.

"...or how. complex they were drawn." <- this one should work. since they're all separate programs, they each have to handle their own graphics, and would use a type of RAM to keep up their silky smooth framerates and procedural animations.

and there's the. THOUGHTS. SENTIENCE. that they all have, of course. i can only assume they use computer working memory (a bit more RAM) like humans use our working memory, and permanent save files stored elsewhere for long-term stuff, because there is no other reference for how a functioning person-program works.

that doesn't explain why orange's number is so different from RYGB... and even when a program doesn't display anything or have feelings the RAM usage shown in Task Manager changes a lot... but in IV it stays exactly the same throughout for every single program..... (i was about to be excited if trying to end TheSecondComing.exe spiked his metrics or something but nothing happens *sad nerd face*) .....so im pretty sure not much was intended on Alan's part by assigning any of these RAM usage values, except for cinematic reasons: giving TheSecondComing.exe much less than the StickFigure[Color].exes forces c!Alan to search for it, realize it has a weird name, and zoom in all dramatic on it for the Description reveal, all because it's further down the list. :P

.

but if i were forced to speculate anyway-

id guess that the StickFigure[Color].exes use more RAM because they come from a game. maybe they're carrying around the game scripts that are responsible for waiting for user inputs. TheSecondComing.exe was never designed to be controlled, so would lack user input listeners by default. why does RYGB have different individual RAM usages? heck if i know- the discrepancies are small enough i think it's just. normal fluctuations. since they're doing different stuff and are variations on the same program, they'd likely stay near each other in RAM requirements, but trade places with who's using the most constantly.

is that all? uhhhh well all i know about getting user input is it can get complicated. suppose it might be 13,516 K complicated.

the only other thing i thought of is TSC.exe could hide suspiciously high RAM usage by stealing from Flash's allocated space. but i dont know if that's a real thing, even for worms. -> if it is, the story goes that, like Minecraft performance can increase by allocating more RAM for it, Flash probably has a big chunk set aside for processing animation-related stuff. TSC.exe, related/attached to Flash, may have access to this chunk, using some of Flash's resources instead of clocking more usage for itself on the Task Manager. the remaining 3,012 K may therefore be impossible to hide or outsource, and would account for... idk, the minimum RAM required to maintain a sapient stick figure? <- again, fully riffing and playing pretend with my touys there though. NOT sure if any of that section is anything. but it would be neat \o/

.

(side note: i tried to look back and see if avast! describes TCO's memory usage, but that metric doesn't show up :T and i dont think there was time to check TDL's or anyone else's in III or V)

.

SO WHAT IS IT HUH?

aaaaaaaaauuuu

it's not clear what the differences mean. it likely does not mean anything at all canonically (cinematic reasons). but i can confidently say that the Memory value probably corresponds to an individual stick figure's current: physical state (stored position, limb arrangements, collisions), display data (color, frame generation, frame display), emotional state (neutral vs intense), mental state (how hard they are thinking), extra features (game data, other attachments to parent programs), independence (is or isn't using memory through another program), and probably other things simultaneously.

i went and collected those numbers

however... it seems this metric we were discussing wasn't related to file size after all, it was memory usage.

i do not know enough about memory to immediately recognize the implications of this information but still cool to know and weird and interesting that they're so different 👉👉 handing to you for safekeeping

OHHHHHHHH !!!!!! i didnt even see the memory tab i really thought it was their file weight lol. man i really wonder what i can do with it. seems like red is consuming too much memory LOL

im not sure if their memory usage is reliant on how long they've been existing or how. complex they were drawn. its interesting to think about. we keeping it fr

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Dead Man’s Cell Phone--Prologue

Summary: When Emma Swan starts getting phone calls and texts from an unfamiliar number, she decides to check it out--only to discover the number belongs to a Killian Jones, who was killed in a robbery gone wrong six months ago.  With some help from a medium, Merlin Emrys, Emma hopes to find out why a dead guy is contacting her--and why she feels such a strong pull to someone she has never met before.

Rating: K+

Other Chapters: 1 2 ​3 4 Epilogue

Welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A big thank you to @cssns, the ladies on the Discord!  Thank you also to @eastwesthomeisbest, my artist and my beta @veryverynotgood!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian Jones took a deep breath, noting the salty tang of the sea breeze.  The scent brought him comfort, a balm to his wounded soul.  Some of his most treasured memories involved holidays to the sea with his mum.  He remembered something his mum said to him on one such holiday ages and ages ago when he was naught but a tiny lad of four or five.

“You feel things so deeply, Killian,” she’d said, stroking his hair.  “When you love, you love with your entire being.  It’s a beautiful thing, and those you love are lucky indeed, but be careful.  There will be heartache in your future, and when you lose someone you love, I fear it will hit you harder than most.”

He’d learned the truth of her statement less than a year later when she had succumbed to a fast moving, particularly virulent form of cancer.  He’d been inconsolable for weeks, unable to understand why his mum had left him.

But life had gone on, and like many children, he’d proven to be resilient, turning to his older brother, his hero, Liam for help and support.  He thanked the gods every day that Liam had never left him--either willingly like his deadbeat father or through death like his mother.

Love was rather rare in Killian’s life.  He’d taken his mother’s words to heart, only giving his heart when he felt it was in safe keeping.

That was, until he met Milah.

She was beautiful, vibrant, full of life--and unfortunately quite married.  Liam had warned him against getting involved with a woman who wasn’t free to give him her heart, but Killian was snared before he even fully understood what was happening.  He had fallen hard and he had fallen fast, and he found he was helpless to resist the gorgeous woman who had captured his heart.

They were happy for a few months, so happy that they’d begun discussing forever.  Milah had sworn she’d leave her husband, that she wanted to be with him.  Killian had begun shopping for rings.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it all went to hell.  She’d come to meet him one night looking as grave and uncomfortable as he’d ever seen her.  

“Killian, I do love you,” she said, “but what we discussed in the past, I think we’ve always known they’re pipe dreams.  Robert’s my husband, the father of my son.  We were meant to be.  I’m sorry, but I have to end this now.  Robert got a new job across the country, and we both think it’s the perfect opportunity for us to make a go at this, to start fresh.  I’m sorry, but this is goodbye.”

It hit him hard, so hard it felt like there was a physical weight on his chest.  How did one pick up the pieces of their heart when it had been shattered into a fine powder?  Liam had tried to be supportive, he really had, but Killian had known it was always on the tip of his tongue to tell Killian “I told you so.”

After a couple months of misery, Killian decided he’d had enough.  He needed a change, even if it was no more than a few weeks’ vacation.  And so he’d packed up and taken the first flight he could arrange from his home in England to the States.  He’d rented a car and simply begun driving, deciding not to stop until he found somewhere that might offer him peace.

He found it in the small, quaintly named seaside town of Storybrooke, Maine.  There was such a magical feel about this berg.  It was a place he could perhaps run into that peace he’d been sadly lacking since…

Killian stopped abruptly as he collided with something, someone in front of him.  He heard a swift, harsh, feminine curse, and looked up to find himself face to face with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen - riotous blonde curls pulled up into a high ponytail, green eyes, currently narrowed in anger, a red leather jacket over a white tank top. Her jeans were so tight to her slim figure they looked painted on.

For a long moment, Killian could do nothing but stare, open-mouthed at the vision before him, so gobsmacked he could barely remember his own name.

The woman growled in frustration as she looked down at the grocery bag she’d dropped upon impact.  “Seriously?” she asked.  “You’re just gonna stand there like an idiot?”

Killian shook his head as he came back to himself, his cheeks reddening at his rudeness.  “My apologies, love,” he said, stooping down to gather up the spilled contents of her bag.  “It appears I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“You think?” she retorted with a roll of her eyes.  

For a moment the two worked together while Killian desperately wracked his addled brain for something--anything--to say that might allow him to remain in this woman’s presence longer, but he was coming up blank.

“Well….thanks for your help,” she said finally, when the groceries were back in their bag.

“Thanks for letting me help,” he replied rather lamely.

“Yeah, well maybe next time you might pay a little more attention and avoid this kind of situation altogether,” she suggested as she pushed past him and quickly disappeared from his sight.

She might have disappeared from his sight, but she most assuredly did not disappear from his mind.  Thoughts of the beautiful blonde followed him through the streets of Storybrooke as he made his way closer and closer to the beach.

So consumed was he with his chance encounter that he didn’t even realize he’d wandered into a seedy part of town until he heard the sounds around him.

The sounds of an altercation.

Killian looked up to see several big, burly men brutally beating a man with black hair and blue eyes.  The man fought valiantly, but it was at least six to one.  He didn’t stand a chance.  Killian fished his cell phone from his pocket, intending to call the authorities, get some help, but he knew the victim before him didn’t have time to wait for police to arrive.

Killian had to intervene.

He charged into the fray, pulling first one, and then another ruffian from the man being beaten, but his efforts seemed to have no effect on the attackers.

No effect, that is, save to divert some of their wrath toward him.  Killian grunted as the first blow landed on the side of his head, and he dropped his phone to the ground.  He fought back with everything in him, pleased to note he’d gotten in a fair few punches of his own, but it soon became obvious that he was hopelessly outmanned.

Sometimes retreat was one’s only option.

Killian turned, hoping to find help for himself and for the other victim, but he’d only made it a few steps when he felt a sharp pain to the back of his head...and then everything went black.

 Notes:

--Hi there and welcome to my story for the 2021 CSSNS!  This story was kind of inspired by an experience I had.  Most of the time if I get a phone call from a number I don’t recognize, I just let it go to voicemail, figuring if they really want to talk to me, they’ll leave a message (and if they’re a telemarketer...they won’t).  One day I got a message from an unknown number, and they did leave a message.  The message was basically nothing but dead air.  For some reason, I decided to try to find out who the number belonged to, and I came to find out the number belonged to someone who had died six months ago.  Now logically, that probably means someone else has the dead guy’s cell phone now, but it brought up the possibility of a new story.  What if Emma got a phone call from Killian Jones, who she finds out died several months ago...and it isn’t a mistake?  Thus this story was born.

--This story has 4 chapters plus this prologue and epilogue, and the good thing is that it’s already completely written.  This means I can set (and stick to) a posting schedule!  I plan to update this story every Wednesday and Sunday until it’s finished.

--Up next:  Emma gets a strange phone call from an unknown number.  What she finds out about it leads her on a journey that will completely change her life.

                                                                                       Next Chapter-->

[sagegreensage]

"ay yo tell us all the reasons that Pirate is the top-tier most smoochable boi in your eyes"

(me, if I were a deep sea telescope fish, upon seeing this ask in my inbox /pos)

OKAY. SO UH. To save all who read this, im going to do this in bullet format so to minimize the risk of there just being a Humongous Wall Of Text. Also, I don't know how to add a 'read more' on mobile, so I'm sorry about how long it is regardless.

Reasons That Pirate Is The Top-Tier Most Smoochable Boi In My Eyes

Okay, so why is he so goddamned cute?????

I'm nearly in literal tears everytime i see a picture of him... He's so fricking cute.

I smile everytime I see or read that he's smiling.

And he has such a beautiful eye color! A warm, rusty red, his iris is black, and his pupil is white. Oh, gorgeous... So gorgeous.

I want to cup his face in my hands and tell him that in doing that, I'm holding my world in my hands.

He just looks so soft and holdable. I want to hold him. Not just his hands (which, btw, are so very cute~!) but all of him. I want to be the big spoon and cuddle him and hhhhhhh. he is so cute and soft lookingggg! Me want hold. (update: *hand. If he'd like, I can design him a hand. Or hook, if he wants. Or both! he can interchange 'em :) For the material of it, I was thinking an arsenic-free alloy consisting of cold-cast bronze and aluminum.)

i bet his lips are soft too... Really soft,,, I would very much so like to smooch him 👉👈 idc if we kiss and his lips are a little dry because of the beach air or the salty sea. I just want to kiss him. Above water and under water. (actually he likely uses chapstick... What flavor of Chapstick does he use..?) (Update again: mwah mwah >3<. yeehaw. he was not wearing Chapstick because he had just woken up so... Next time. but hhhhhhh. the rp. kissie kissie in rp :D)

I would literally swoon/happy panic (is it a gay panic if I'm male But Also female?... Pansexual panic) receiving his good morning and goodnight texts. Or just almost any text from him for that matter... Basically, it'd go like this. Every time.

[over text]

Sweetie Pie (Pirate): Good morning 💖

Me irl, before replying: ASDFGHJKL bro he so cute,,,,,!?

No but, for real: he so cute. How so cute?

The way he shows his trust... Being around someone with his gloves off and or his eyepatch off. An unspoken, subtle show of him trusting that you won't judge or think less of him.

I love his interests asdfghjkl. I've been hyperfixated on marine life and the ocean since 2nd grade. idk how long I've been interested in pirate stuff. It started before Pirate101, which was made in 2012, that just helped me express it. My grandma used to tell me she wanted to be pirate, so I think it was around when i was 4 or 5 that I began thinking pirates were awesome. hhhhhhhhh me want ramble about nautical stuff with him.

me want ramble with Pirate pls.

And Please. Please, let me introduce him to Pirate101. It was the center of my pirate phase when I was younger, which by the way, never died and Pirate just nursed it back to health. I'll pay for his Pirate101 membership. We will co-op fight our enemies together. The big bad stands no chance.

his aestheticccc. fucking Superb!!! Aw, man.... Seeing him dress in his pirate attire gives me Confidence. I would like to dress up a bit more extra. My aesthetic is either tired nerd with a decent closet or near full on steampunk techwear depending on how I feel. He makes me want to dress in more steampunk techwear.

lkjhgfdsa ANYWAYS. His aesthetic!!! I love seeing art of him wearing his aesthetic. Everytime I show my friends his drip they're like, "wow, he looks so fancy," and like, yes he do. His drip is fancy in that old way, which has then been stolen and worn by a pirate. And basically, that's the pirate drip. Except, unlike your average pirate wearing fancy vintage clothes, Pirate isn't dirty. Pie's clean and they smell very nice.

And the reason he likes pirate paraphernalia is just,,,, yessir! Yes! You love that ocean, bro! The ocean loves you too :) and so do I.

and he's a trans icon :) and not only that, he goes by he/him and they/them pronouns. Amazing!!

iiiii would die and revive for a trip to a store with candles/perfumes/colognes just to look for what I imagine Pie smells like. Odd? Okay, perhaps. but listen. I would die and revive for someone irl to love me like Pirate would. If i buy that scent, you best believe im either spraying the perfume/cologne on some of my pillows and clothing or lighting that candle whenever wherever. Anxious? Lonely? Sad? Empty inside? Pirate's scent fixes all, my friend. a lifehacc, if you will.

I know he has a slight accent, although he suppresses it: i would love to hear it. And when he just wakes up or is drunk, man, oh man. pls, me want hear his accent. (WAIT. when he woke up after he got his arm fixed and i came in the room, was his accent more prevalent at that time? 👀)

I want him to trust me someday enough to not suppress things about himself, like his accent and his purring.

why does he suppress his purring, btw? that's so fricking cute why suppress that? Well, I mean, I know he's ashamed of the fact that he isn't human, and that most humans wouldn't want to be involved with a monster, much less, love and date one. but he's so cute tho. seriously, he could for real just be a scallop with sapience, but if he still was himself I would still fucking love him.

he allegedly gets some of his things out of the trash? yesss. (insert (non)gendered word of choice)boss, this is me: "bb, let's go dumpster diving imma get a ring out of there and use it to be engaged to u someday " terrible no-good very-bad date idea: let's go to the dumpster of Dunkin Donut's. (no but they actually throw away hundreds of perfectly fine donuts every damn night. mind-boggling.)

celebrating Spooky Month together would be great. I would wear whatever he designed, heck yessiree. Man, it would be so cute.

Maybe I'll add to this list later but I think I kept you waiting long enough :3

didnt manage to get all the flustered pansexual panics he gives me or how my thought-process goes everytime I fricking see him but this was a list more for reasons Pie is a total cutie. not me, my butterfly-filled tummy, and my incessant simping 👉👈

[rawdogmeharry]

anything [part 2 to everything]

or, the one where Y/N is the love of Harry's life and all he wants to do is marry her.

ask and you shall receive <3

requests go here:)

masterlist

•

Somewhere on the Amalfi coast.

Somewhere on the Amalfi coast, on some hot, grainy sand, under some soft azure skies, beside some crystal clear blue water lay Harry, and the love of his life, Y/N.

And Harry really can't keep his hands off his lovie.

Her lilac bikini, that perfectly accentuates her curves. The stretchmarks she adorns a lot more prominent on her already tanned skin. The smooth skin of her plushy thighs, wide hips and full tits. Is it even normal to get this many boners per day?, Harry thinks.

It drives him insane, really. He doesn't understand how a person can be as unearthly gorgeous as his girl is.

And to think Harry was going to ask this beautiful creature to marry him in just a few hours was undescribeable. It made Harry want to shit himself.

Of course, Harry hopes for the best. Harry knows the best. He knows she's gonna say yes, and not just to be a dick about it, but he knows his lovie. Better than anyone—better than she knows her own self.

He also knows how much she loves him. Knows it best probably from the way her touches bring electricity all the way down to his core and through every nerve ending in his body, as if the love seeping from her veins was trying to force its way into Harry. No need for force though, Harry thinks, he's capable of accepting and cherishing any and every single ounce of her love she's willing to give.

Also knows it from the way he doesn't have to say a word, and she already knows exactly what he needs. Knows him like the back of her hand, honestly, and Harry thinks that this is the actual reason they're meant to be—they really do know each other better than they know each themselves.

And Harry did end up choosing a serene spot on the Amalfi coast in Italy to propose. He figured since he'd already taken her to Paris for her birthday not even a mere month earlier, they should travel to a place they'd both never been to before.

Remember this place for the rest of their lives, make it go down in history as the place where and unseparable bond between them was made, and visit for every single anniversary. Harry's got it all planned out.

"Y'know, even with my eyes closed I can feel you staring at my boobs, Harry."

"Well why are they all up in my face for?"

"They're really not, Har. Y'could at least stop starin' at them in public. Y'watchin' them like a hawk watches his prey."

"Baby, y'know it's like some sort of magnetic pull between me 'n your tits. It's 'cause they are m'prey, lovie, gonna eat 'em all up once we get back to the hotel," Harry says and rolls over on the beach towel onto his stomach and leans his head on one hand. Fuckin' beautiful, is what she is, he thinks whilst tilting his head and staring at Y/N.

"Yeah? Y'promise?" She smiles at him.

He gives her a broad smile back, "Cross my heart, hope to die."

Y/N rolls onto her side on the small towel as well, and throws one of her thighs onto his hip, "think we should head back soon, then. Also, m'heads killin' me. Think it's from the sun. Want a nap and you kissing on my boobs."

Harry frowns, "y'heads hurtin', baby? Why didn't y'say so before? We could've went back way earlier. Um—will you be okay to still go to dinner tonight?"

She gives him a shy smile, "of course I'll be okay to go, Harry. Just gonna take an Ibuprofen or something and I'll be as good as new."

Harry lets out a sigh of relief in his head. The dinner he's been planning for almost three weeks now is happening in just a few hours, and nothing can go wrong, because if something does, he's really going to cry. He's sure he's going to cry if everything goes right, as well.

Eitherway, Harry's gonna need some tissues.

He lifts her warm thigh off his hip and gently squeezes it, stands up and puts both arms out to her, "up y'get then, lovie."

```

After a much needed two hour nap and a love making session after getting up when lovie's head wasn't hurting anymore, both Harry and Y/N are almost finished getting ready.

His darling stands in the bathroom in front of the mirror, leaning over the counter just a tiny bit so she could see a bit better and not get the soft pink lipstick all over her face.

And when Harry walks in on her in this position, his knees nearly buckle.

The slender curve of her back, the hem of her turquoise dress barely reaching mid-thigh and sitting tight on her hips.

Now is not the time to get a boner.

"Lovie, y-you look so fucking beautiful. I—I really don't have any words."

She gives him a shy smile through the mirror and he gives her one back, a light pink blush littering her cheeks from the stammering of his kind words, "thank you, baby. You look as handsome as ever." He thinks she might hear his heartbeat all the way from the doorway.

This time, his smile is so broad his teeth show and his dimple pops out, "nothin' compared to you, baby. Yeh about ready, then, gorgeous?"

"You really want some steak, huh? Let's go then, you impatient man," Y/N giggles.

If only she knew that the steak was the last thing on his mind right now, Harry thought.

```

After eating the best medium-well steak both of them had ever had, Y/N considers unzipping the zipper on the side of her dress. She literally feels like she's about to burst.

And Harry does too. Just not from the steak.

The steak was really good, Harry will admit that, and the wine was also not that bad (for six hundred dollars per bottle, it could've been better, he thinks), but these are really irrelevant things compared to the other's he's thinking right now.

And while Harry's close to having a heart attack, Y/N slowly leans back on her chair, puts her arms on the arm rests and tries to discreetly push out her stomach. She then takes one of her hands and slowly rubs it on her bloated belly, stroking it as if she was pregnant.

Petting her steak filled belly she looks around, and only then realises that just the two of them are left on the second floor of the restaurant.

The restaurant was situated outside, underneath the starry sky, and built right into a cave, with a view of the calm ocean right in front of them.

"Harry, d'you think they're about to close soon? We're literally the only people left."

Here goes nothing, Harry thinks.

"No, baby, that's how it's supposed to be."

She gives him a confused face, genuinely not understanding what he's just said, "huh? What's supposed to be?"

He slowly stands up, walks over to her chair and notices the hand stroking her little pouched out belly and immediately smiles. She's so fucking cute. Bends down to her face to face and puts his big hands on her small cheeks, "Just listen t'me, baby. No questions, just all ears for me now, yeah?"

She's even more confused now. "Yeah, okay."

He gives her a quick kiss, shortly trapping her bottom lip between his own. "Right. Here it goes."

Harry pulls away from her, and very slowly gets down onto one knee in front of her, quickly pulling out a small emerald green velvet box from his inner jacket pocket.

Y/N is in shock. She wouldn't be surprised if she went into cardiac arrest right then and there. Then it all comes together.

The way he was fidgeting with his hands all the way to the restaurant earlier in the evening, so much that she had to put her hands on his, just so he could properly hold the steering wheel. She didn't choose to question that, figured he'd tell her on his own time, when he felt comfortable about speaking of what he was so scared? of, after he gave her an appreciative, but shaky smile.

The shaking of his hands while he was cutting his steak. She really thought that was because of the steak.

The small beads of sweat gathering at the top of his forehead anytime he would make direct eye contact with her during the evening. She thought that the warm climate had taken its toll on him.

She feels stupid. That's why he's been so nervous, she thinks. Everything makes sense now.

"Y/N—I-I've literally forgotten every word I rehearsed for m'speech. Um—'m so nervous I think even m'tongues shakin' so 'm sorry, but I still want to say a few things."

He can barely hold the box in his clammy hands from the shaking.

And she already feels a few droplets of salty tears coming down her face.

Harry takes a deep breath. "Y/N Y/L/N, y'the love of m'life. Nobody comes close to the place you hold in m'heart. I know this is corny t'say, but I really did fall in love with you the first time I saw you. Fell in love with your kindness, compassion and the love you show t'the people most important to yeh. Couldn't imagine spendin' m'life with anybody else by m'side. Can't wait to marry you, bawl m'eyes out when I see you walk down the aisle and later have babies with yeh. Beautiful, beautiful babies, just like their mummy. Take you all over the world, show you places we'll remember for the rest of our lives. Make love every night and mornin', spend the days baskin' in each other's love. Um—know 'm just ramblin' anythin' and I can promise yeh my wedding vows are gonna be a million times better, but will yeh do the honors and make all m'dreams come true? Marry me and be mine, lovie?"

He starts to open the box containing the beautiful custom diamond ring he'd had made just for her but he can barely see where the opening is because of his tear-filled eyes.

And Y/N doesn't even look at the ring, doesn't really need to, even though she's extremely grateful, she knows she'd marry him if he gave her a ring with an engraved pickle on it.

She quickly shuts the little box and wraps her arms so hard around his shoulders, she nearly brings the both of them down to the wooden floor of the restaurant.

"Yes, Harry," she chokes out through her tears and feels his arms wrap tighter around her than ever, "yes. I love you so much. Of course I'll marry you."

Harry hasn't ever been happier than he is in this moment.

[ppersonna]

little surfer girl - jjk

little surfer, little one. made my heart come all undone. do you love me, do you surfer girl?- little surfer girl, the beach boys

summary- every summer you watched jeon jungkook turn into a perfect, professional surfer.  every summer, you wanted him more. this summer, you were determined to make him yours.

rating- R/NC17

word count- 9.8k

pairing- jungkook x reader

genre- surfing!au, surfer!jungkook, fluff, smut, tiniest bit of angst in the form of pining and jungkook being bad at talking, background namseok, background vmin

warnings- penetrative sex, oral sex (m/f receiving), slight dirty talk, creampie, cursing, recreational alcohol use (of legal age), public sex, marking, nippleplay, finger sucking

There was nothing that you loved more than the ocean.  

The smell of sea water, the salty taste, the sand clinging to skin, the warm sun toasting around the edges.  

You loved the call of the birds, swooping up and down the shoreline for scraps of whatever the tourists left.  You loved the sound of the waves crashing against the tall beams supporting the pier.

You loved the sunbathers, the smell of coconut sunscreen, the chiming of bike bells.  The beach was your home, and you loved everything about it.

However, the best part, by far, was Jeon Jungkook.

You loved watching the black-haired boy stroll down the long stretch of sand, clad in either a wetsuit, or just some skin tight board shorts, long surfboard under his arm. 

Sometimes, he would arrive at lunchtime, shoving a burrito into his mouth as he suited up.  Sometimes, he would be there at 6 am, when you arrived to start your shift at the lifeguard station.  Sometimes, he would come right at the edge of evening, sun slowly dying beyond the horizon of the Pacific Ocean. 

Sometimes he came with his friends, Hoseok and Jin.  They would aimlessly roam around on their boards, laughing if one fell and trying to outmaneuver each other, laughter echoing down the expanse of water and sand.

Jeon Jungkook loved the beach as much as you did.  And you worshiped him for it.

You often watched the boy for hours, as he attempted to move through each wave perfectly, gliding against the water like it was glass.  He was graceful, so impeccably poised on the top of each crested wave. 

It wasn’t fair that he could be so perfect in and out of the water.

It wasn’t fair that he rarely gave you a passing glance.

“You’ll catch flies in your mouth if you keep staring at him like that,” Taehyung spoke, saddling up next to you and leaning against the wood of the lifeguard shack.

You shook your head and quickly closed your mouth.  You didn’t know it had opened in amazement as you stared at the lithe surfer.

Taehyung chuckled, rolling his eyes at his best friend.  “You’re ridiculous.”

You elbowed him and turned away from the shoreline, focusing your attention directly on your best friend and most certainly not on the tall, handsome, fit surfer gliding over the waves.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you sniffed. “I was monitoring the shoreline for potential dangers, Kim Taehyung.  That is my job as a lifeguard.”

He laughed again, his low baritone comforting. “Sure, babe,” he sighed. “Definitely not drooling over Jungkook, I believe you.”

Taehyung knew all about the crush you harbored on the surfer ever since you first saw him 3 summers ago at the start of your lifeguard career.  You remembered your first day with your best friend.  

“Who is that?” You had asked, watching the man shoving at his friends jokingly, and paddling beside them through the water.  Taehyung had only laughed in reply.  “Really?” He asked, surprised.  “That’s Jeon Jungkook. He’s going professional soon, most likely.”

Your eyes never once left the boy again, always seeking him out along the shoreline, missing him when he took a day off from his practice and training.

Since that day, Taehyung made it a point to tease you about your unrequited crush on the boy, and always in not-so-subtle language told you you deserved better than the fuckboy surfing god.

You weren’t naïve to the fact that wherever Jungkook went, a gaggle of bikini-clad gorgeous women followed.  You weren’t foolish enough not to notice the smirks and winks he shot at them, desperately wishing that it was you.

Taehyung grumbled about the muscled surfer, stating that all he would do is fuck you over and break your heart, and couldn’t you just date someone nice like his cousin Namjoon?

Taehyung seemed to be in such a mood that day, too.

“I still can’t understand what you see in him,” he groused. “Sure, I guess he’s good looking, but he seems like such a player.  Jimin told me he saw him take that Jennie girl behind the cabanas last weekend.”

Your heart sagged, feeling defeated at his words.  Jennie was beautiful.  Tall, thin and gorgeous.  Surely, that was Jungkook’s type.  Jungkook’s type was definitely not lifeguard’s wearing red spandex one-pieces a la Baywatch, without the ample bosom.   Well, maybe some bosom, but nothing compared to the women flocking the young surfer from the shore.

You bit your lip and shrugged at your best friend, ignoring the shot in your heart at imagining Jungkook with someone, anyone, but you.

“He’s nice,” you murmured.  Not that you would really know. The man had spoken four sentences to you in the 3 years you’ve worked as a lifeguard, and most of those were asking about where a trash can was. “And he’s so talented.  He loves the ocean, you can tell,” you sighed, resting your head on your hand as you watched him from the ledge of the lifeguard shack.

Jungkook was especially in the zone that day, eyebrows drawn tight in concentration as he cut through the curve of the tube of water.  He seemed to practice more intently recently, the National Surfing Tournament was quickly approaching.  Jungkook was one of the best surfer’s in the nation and had recently gone professional.  You were sure he was eager to score more branding deals and secure his spot on the international scene.

“Namjoon is nice!  Much nicer!” Taehyung was incensed.  “Passionate too, and not an asshole!” 

Taehyung was determined to set you up with his cousin, Kim Namjoon.  Tae wasn’t wrong, Namjoon was nice.  He was shy, quiet, intelligent and sweet.  He was passionate about physics, math, science, and had earned a full-ride scholarship to the country’s most prestigious scientific university.  

Maybe, if you hadn’t met Jungkook, you’d give Namjoon a shot.  Unfortunately for the elder Kim cousin, no one could compare to Jungkook, regardless of how unlikely it was for him to ever glance your way.  

“Yes, Tae,” you sighed.  “Namjoon is very passionate… about engineering.”

“Hey! Engineering is a respectable profession, unlike professional surfing,” he sneered, as if the word tasted dirty in his mouth.  

You patted the brown-haired boy’s arm and smiled at him, not wanting to upset him further about his beloved cousin.  

“It’s just a stupid crush, Tae, okay?” You reassured.  “It’s not like Jungkook even knows who I am except for the girl who knows where to throw trash away.”

Taehyung nodded and squeezed your arm.  “Anyway, are you going to the tournament pre-party next weekend?” He asked, a shy blush spreading across his cheeks.  “Jimin asked me to go with him.”

The pre-party.  

You had almost forgotten, so focused on the tournament itself and watching Jungkook prepare harder each day.  You almost had his moves memorized by how often you watched.  The tournament pre-party was a few nights before the big day, a way for the surfers, fans and locals alike to party and celebrate.  The entire community of young adults in the area communed on the beach for bonfires, too much alcohol, volleyball, and countless summer frivolities. 

“Oh,” you breathed, eyes zeroing in again on the tall surfer of your affections. You knew it was hopeless to think Jungkook would ask you, but you couldn’t help the ache in your heart that desperately wanted him to. “I forgot.”  

Taehyung’s eyes lit up. “You don’t have anyone to take you?” He asked an ulterior motive on his mind. 

“I had someone in mind…” you sighed.  Jungkook appeared exhausted, finally seated on the surface of his board, panting hard. “But, no, no one has asked me.” 

Taehyung smirked a devious grin. You barely noticed, because of a cute pink-haired lifeguard appearing on the sand below you. 

“Oh, hi Jimin!” You called to the cherubic boy below. “Are you here to see your lover?” 

Jimin and Tae simultaneously turned a deep shade of crimson. Christ, they were perfect for each other. 

“Hi, Jimin,” Tae smiled shyly. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to bring you lunch,” Jimin’s teeth caught his bottom lip anxiously. “You too.” He smiled at you and held up the paper bag, earning a squeak of delight from your best friend as he tugged you down the stairs to greet his crush and receive his treats. 

“Where’s ours, Jimin?” A new voice called. 

Three heads whipped around to investigate the voice. It was Kim Seokjin, a teasing grin on his face.  He was flanked by Jung Hoseok, and none other than Jeon Jungkook. You felt as if someone had sucked the air out of you with a vacuum. 

Jimin blushed again, looking out at the men approaching the lifeguard station, dripping wet, half stripped out of their wetsuits, and exhausted. 

“Sorry, Jinnie! I didn’t realize you guys were here.” He hugged Jin with one arm, causing Tae to raise an eyebrow at the exchange. 

Jimin seemed to notice the confusion and hurried to explain. “This is Jin! My neighbor! We grew up together.”  Taehyung visibly relaxed.  “And this is Hoseok and Jungkook, his best friends.”  The boys waved at you two, and you prayed your hair looked decent today. A hand reached up to press down on your tresses, just in case. 

“I’m Taehyung!” Your best friend spoke, happy demeanor quickly re-appearing as he recognized Jin was not a threat. “And this is my best friend, Y/N!” 

You willed your cheeks not to flare red as the men took you in. You wore your standard issue red Speedo swimsuit, accentuating your thicker hips and thighs from years of gymnastics, and clinging to your chest. Fuck, did you look okay?  Your one chance to impress Jungkook and you were wholly unprepared.  Your arms crossed over your chest, hiding your body behind your arms. 

However, you smiled at the men, watching as Jin and Hoseok smirked at you and Jungkook’s face remained impassive. 

“Yeah, I’ve seen you around,” Jungkook added. “You guys are always here.” 

“Well,” you gulped. “Someone’s gotta… guard those lives…” Really? What the fuck kind of joke was that?

It was silent for a beat, before Seokjin burst into uncontrollable laughter. 

“Oh, I like you!” He joked as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “A woman after my own heart.” 

Jin’s friends rolled their eyes at the older man’s antics.  Jin was known for his lame jokes, Jimin explained to you.  

“You guys are going to the party next weekend, right?” Jimin asked the male trio, moving to stand near Tae.  Tae grinned at the boy as they linked hands.

The boys exchanged looks with each other.  “Yeah,” Hoseok replied. “I’m taking my boyfriend, Yoongi and Jin is taking our friend June.”

Tae smiled back at the group. “Jimin and I are going together!” He was excited, it was palpable.  The pair were tooth-rotting cute and the rest of the party smiled at how endearing the budding romance was.

“What about you?” Jin asked, peering in your direction. “Who’s lucky enough to take you?”

You flushed and stammered, unable to croak out the words.  

Tae, thankfully, took over. “She forgot about it.  She hasn’t found anyone yet.”

Jin’s face lit up, and he nudged you gently in the ribs. “Jungkook doesn’t have anyone to go with, either! You two should go together!”

Your face flushed immediately, and you shot your eyes to Jungkook, who laughed out loud with a blush on his face.  

“What?!” He yelped. “No, no!” he stammered.  “I uh… I’m going with Jennie!”

You felt your heart rip at the seams, and Taehyung clenched his fist in anger.

Jin narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  “You told us she’s a bad kisser, and that she was rude.”

“No!” Jungkook yelled. “She’s great! It’s fine! Oh, uhh… my mom’s here, gotta go!” He tore off towards the parking lot, leaving you in your dust and broken heart.  

Hoseok lifted a brow and looked at Jin.  “Doesn’t his mom live like… 4 hours away?”

Jin just laughed and shrugged, leaning in to give Jimin a goodbye hug.  “Sorry about that! Jungkook is a little edgy.”

Taehyung grumbled under his breath and Jimin moved to quickly cover it up. 

“It’s fine!” he assuaged.  “No harm!” He chuckled nervously, stealing you a glance.  He could tell by the broken puppy dog eyes on your face that there was certainly harm.

Taehyung was irate.  “Yeah!  She’s going with Kim Namjoon, anyway!”  You whipped your head to him, incredulous and confused. He stared back at you, resolute. 

You groaned, lowering your head to stare at your sandy feet.

“Oh, yeah?” Jin asked, ears perking up. “That delicious-...err… I mean, intelligent engineer guy?”

Taehyung, oblivious to Jin’s careful re-wording, nodded. “Yeah! He’s totally a catch, and he’s lucky to be going with her.”

Jin nodded and smiled at you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Definitely.”  He chanced a glance at you, and could tell by the look on your face you felt otherwise.  He leaned to your ear and whispered only for you to hear, “If you find out he bats for the other team, will you let me know?”  

Jin was good in your book.  You giggled at the older boy and nodded, before peering back at your best friend’s confused gaze.  

“Well, we better go!  Looks like we’ve been ditched for some… mom time,” he motioned towards the parking lot that Jungkook fled to and gazed back at Hoseok.  “Let’s head out?”

Hoseok nodded, and you murmured your farewells to both, and laughed silently as Jin winked at you.

“I can’t believe it,” Taehyung kicked at the sand after the duo left.  “What an asshole! He was so rude! I knew he wasn’t good enough for you.”  

You had momentarily forgotten about the rejection, too caught up in Jin’s obvious interest in your apparent new date to the party.   Right.  The new date because Jungkook couldn’t even fathom you on his arm; it was laughable to him.  Ouch.

Jimin approached you and wrapped you in his arms. “Sorry, love,” he murmured as his date kicked angrily at the sand, cursing Jeon Jungkook’s name.  “He really is an idiot.”

Taehyung put himself back together and hugged the two of you tight.  “Joonie will be excited to take you,” he replied with a grin wide on his face.  

You groaned. “Can’t wait.”

“Jeon Jungkook, what the hell is wrong with you!?” Kim Seokjin shrieked as he walked into the parking lot and found the surfer sitting on the edge at a soft thatch of grass, surfboard haphazardly laid next to him.  

Jungkook winced, knowing the lecture would come from his oldest friend.  

“I’m sorry!” he started, looking up at the man with pleading eyes. “I just-... I don’t-...” he was at a loss for words, unable to explain his behavior.

He sighed and looked back down at his feet.  Why had he reacted so negatively?  He barely even knew the girl, but had been so overwhelmed by the sight of her in her red swimsuit and cute braided hair, and Jin suddenly;y suggesting they go to the party together.  He was flustered.

“I don’t even know her! I think I asked her once about a fucking trashcan!  Why would she want to go with someone she doesn’t know?” He complained.  

Jin rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, the picture of motherly scorn. “You could have gotten to know her on the fucking DATE!” he snapped. “Instead, you laughed in the poor girl’s face!  She looked like a kicked puppy.”

Jungkook winced and rubbed at his ocean-burned eyes, feeling a headache beginning in his temples.  “I’m sorry!” he exasperated. “I’ll apologize sometime! I’ll ask her to go with me!” 

Jungkook supposed he really wouldn’t mind having the lifeguard on his arm at the party.  She filled out her swimsuit nicely and had a gorgeous smile. She was shy, it seemed, but he supposed that wasn’t so bad. He mentally kicked himself for reacting so harshly.  

“Too late,” Hoseok chimed in. “She’s going with Kim Namjoon.”

At the name, Jungkook snapped his eyes to Jin, who huffed.  “If he falls in love with her and not me at this party, I’m shoving your surfboard up your ass.”

Spending your days at the lifeguard shack was easier said than done after Jungkook’s blatant rejection.  Your eyes followed him constantly, watching as he practiced each turn, tube ride, and off-the-lip. He practiced constantly, nearly 7 hours a day.  He only took breaks to come to shore to eat and drink water and occasionally scurry off to the bathroom.  You desperately wanted to turn away, the sight of him at all causing your heart to clench. But you were powerless, utterly unable to avoid the magnetism that was Jeon Jungkook.

Your shifts switched between partnering with Jimin and Taehyung, both trying to do anything in their power to lift your spirits.  Taehyung chattered away between how excited he was to go with Jimin, and how great it would be to see you and Namjoon together.  Jimin avoided any topic of Jungkook or Namjoon and simply discussed what you would wear to the party and flicked through various websites on his phone with you to determine.  

Jimin yipped with excitement.  “Look at this one,” he swooned, shoving his phone under your nose.  “You’d look so good!”

You glanced at the screen, a golden bikini top in the frame.  It cupped the model’s chest nicely, allowing ample cleavage, and wrapping around the neck with a halter tie.  It was beautiful, shimmery and trendy.  

“I dunno,” you sighed. “Can I pull that off?”

Jimin smirked.  “I’m sure Namjoon could pull it off you.”

“Oh god,” you snorted. “Not you too! Plus, I think Seokjin likes him.”  

Jimin hummed. “Well, I think you should still get it.  Wear it with a cute tight skirt!” His face was lit up. You couldn’t deny the boy.  “Plus, you’ll make stupid Jungkook regret his decision.”

Your face fell at the name.  Jimin internally slapped himself for bringing him up. 

“I’m sorry, bub,” he whispered, taking your hand in his.  “He really is an idiot for what he did to you.”

You smiled at Jimin, willing yourself not to cry at work.  “Thanks, Jimin,” you sighed.  “It’s okay.  I’ll buy it!  It will look great.”  You mostly bought it to ensure Jimin didn’t feel too guilty, but also because it would likely make your tits look great, and you could use some revenge on the surfer.

The pink-haired boy happily clicked the ‘buy’ button, and you entered your card information, thankful that the package would arrive a few days before the party.

You and Jimin settled into an easy conversation, discussing his and Taehyung’s date.  The lithe little lifeguard regaled you with his grand romantic gestures that he planned to surprise Taehyung and officially ask him to be his boyfriend.  It was cute, and your best friend definitely deserved the adoration.  But it was acutely making your heart clench in jealousy and sadness.  

You glanced at your watch, noting the time.  “Hey, I’m going to go walk down the and do shore checks,” you smiled as you grabbed your long white life preserver and slipped ray bans on your eyes.  Jimin nodded and spritzed you with sunblock before you made your way out the door.  

The walk down the shore was a practiced one.  Your eyes scanned over the surface of the water, trained to spot anything wrong or dangerous.  You knelt down to apply a band-aid to a little boy’s scraped knee and picked up trash that a seagull would surely choke on.    It was easy to busy yourself with minimal tasks and keeping an active eye for danger on the horizon. 

The distractions were very welcome, and your mind flittered comfortably around and never landed on the topic of a certain tall, fit surfer. 

Until he was standing right in front of you, your body colliding into his.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed. “Sorry!” You stood and dusted off; you had fallen directly onto the sand on your ass.  You looked at the large person standing in front of you and felt your heart sink.

“I was calling your name for like...4 minutes,” he said amused. “Aren’t lifeguards supposed to be paying attention?”

You blushed and crossed your arms over your chest, huffing. “What do you want?”

Okay, you were a little short, a little rude.  But the man laughed at the idea of being seen with you!  He deserved at least a little of it.

Jungkook blanched at the tone of your voice. “I’m- uh,” he struggled to find words. “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” He nibbled at his lip.  “About the other day.  And for knocking you over just now.”

You crossed your arms tighter against your chest and lifted your sunglasses up your face to rest on your head.  “You were an asshole,” you mumbled.

He rubbed at the back of his neck anxiously. “I know, yeah,” he swallowed harshly.  “I guess they caught me off guard and didn’t know what to say.  Are you still going alone?”

You paused, unsure how to respond.  To tell him about your fake date with Namjoon, or not.

“No,” you sighed.  “I’m going with Kim Namjoon.”

Jungkook scoffed. “That nerd!?” You felt your eyes narrow.  Only you got to call Namjoon a nerd, maybe Seokjin too, but not Jungkook, and not in that tone. “I wanted to ask you if you would go with me.  Jennie’s already got someone else.”

“Oh, so I’m the second choice now?” You lifted an eyebrow, and he hurried to explain.

“No! Well, yeah!” He was fucking up, he knew it. “But not in a bad way!” God, Jungkook wished he could punch himself out cold so he could stop this train wreck.  He felt like such an idiot.

“How is it not a bad way, Jungkook?” You asked, annoyance and hurt rising steadily. 

“Nevermind! It’s fine,” he huffed, angry at himself and allowing it to come out on you. “I was just thinking you’d be eager to ditch the dweeb and be the lucky lady on my arm.”

How in the world did he think that was okay to say?  You glared at him for a moment.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you bit. “I’m the lucky one!? You should feel lucky that I even listened to your shit apology, let alone entertain the thought of going to the party with you!”

You continued your rant and Jungkook wished the earth would swallow him.  Why was it so hard to talk to you like a normal fucking human?

“Namjoon is polite, and sweet and smart and not a fucking bully who thinks he’s better than everyone!” you yelled, aware that passersby were watching the scene unfold.  A lifeguard yelling at a professional surfer, how charming. “And he’s the lucky one because I’m fucking great!”

“So you can have your fucking apology and go to the party alone, you absolute asswipe!” With that, you turned around and stormed back to the lifeguard tower, stewing in your mixed anger and grief.

You were suddenly very grateful to wear that golden bikini, eager to rub just exactly what Jungkook lost out on in his face.

The weekend of the party came quickly, far quicker than you were ready for.  As much as you enjoyed Namjoon’s company, it was still a little awkward.  Even more so now that you knew Seokjin, your newest friend, held a candle for the tall genius.

Taehyung sat on your bed as you finished applying makeup, a bronzy yet natural look.  Taehyung wore short shorts and a tank, showing off his impossibly toned and tanned arms and thighs.  He looked fantastic and knew that Jimin would salivate at the sight.  

“You look incredible, bubby,” Tae smiled as he stood behind you and helped secure the necklace you were fumbling with.  “Namjoon is a lucky man.”

You flushed, not wanting to burst Taehyung’s bubble regarding your platonic feelings towards his cousin. “Thanks, Taetae.”

You glanced at your finished look in the long mirror as Tae stood behind you and rubbed your shoulders. The golden bikini top wrapped around your body seamlessly, lifting your breasts with ample cleavage and complimenting your lifeguard tan.  

You wore a short and tight, high-waisted denim skirt and simple sandals you could easily slip off once in the sand.  It different from the 70s vibe of your normal lifeguard outfit.  Your hair fell down in curls, rather than held up in braids or a bun, and makeup adorned your tanned features. Not bad, you smirked.

Taehyung hugged you from behind, but jumped as the doorbell rang. 

“Oh! That's Joonie!”  He quickly scuttled away.

You took a deep breath, summoned every ounce of courage and walked out to meet your date. 

Namjoon smiled kindly at you, wearing a sensible pair of knee-length jean shorts and a designer tee.  

“You look amazing!” he smiled as you grabbed a sweater in case it got too cold. A bikini only gave so much coverage against wind. 

“Thanks Joon,” you replied. “You too.”

Tae sighed as if watching a romantic movie. “Oh my sweet little lovebirds,” you rolled your eyes. “Go have fun!  Namjoon, you take care of her!” He wagged his finger in his cousin's face. “I know where you live!” 

You and Namjoon laughed at his antics. 

“Okay bub, that’s enough,” you hugged your best friend. “Go get your man.” 

He kissed both your cheeks and hugged his tall cousin. “Hopefully by the end of tonight, he will be my man.” He winked before slipping out the door. 

“He’s too much, sometimes,” Namjoon chuckled. You nodded as you opened the front door for him. 

“Don’t blame me, he’s your cousin,” you teased, and the pair of you left towards the beach. 

You heard the music of the party before you saw it.  You and Namjoon had been chatting easily as you walked the few blocks to the beach.  His conversation helped quell the anxiety growing in your stomach.  Jungkook would be there.  You were still so mad at him, and yet still undeniably attracted to the popular surfer.  It frustrated you he gave you every reason not to like him and still, your brain resisted.

“Wow, it looks wild,” Namjoon breathed as you approached the crowd.  There were groups of people everywhere, each in various states of beachwear and undress.  

You nodded, eyes peering around for any familiar face.  You quickly spotted Jin with his date, a cute and petite brunette, along with Hoseok and Yoongi.  Thankfully, Jungkook was nowhere to be seen.  Jin and his crowd quickly made their way towards you.  

“My princess!” He exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around you.  He tucked his lips by your ear and whispered, “So, you think I got a chance?” You turned to smile at him and shrugged. 

“He didn’t seem to care about my tits,” you surmised.  Not that it meant he was gay, but since Seokjin seemed to grasp at straws, so did you.

“How unfair to you!” he faux-gasped.  “You could see these puppies from space!” He patted your shoulders and looked at the tall genius.  

Namjoon’s eyes were glued to Seokjin, transfixed.  Jin stuck his hand out towards him. 

“Hi, I’m Seokjin.  But you can call me Jin,” he mewled, eyes giving off blatant ‘come hither’ vibes.  

Namjoon licked his lips and slowly extended his own hand.  “Namjoon,” he replied.

Jin grinned. “I know,” he teased. “You’re the local Einstein.”

Namjoon flushed, and you nudged Jin, asking to take it easy on the boy.  

Within a blink, Tae and Jimin joined your group, hands clasped together and giddy smiles on their faces.  Namjoon arched an eyebrow at his cousin and Tae merely smiled, one that spoke volumes of love for the pink-haired lifeguard.

“Where’s Jungkook?” Tae growled as he took stock of who was present.  Hoseok awkwardly coughed.

“He’s uh,” Hoseok started. “Coming late.”

You pursed your lips, ignoring the fast beat of your heart.  Namjoon was still engaged in a staring contest with Seokjin and you smiled at Jin’s date, June.  “Do you want to go with me to get a drink, June?” You asked, feeling awkward that the girl’s date was openly flirting with yours.

She nodded appreciatively and walked with you towards the beer garden.  “Sorry about the boys,” you murmured.  “It’s a little awkward when your date partners flirt with each other.”

June giggled and grabbed a cold cup of beer.

“I don’t mind,” she smiled behind the foam.  “Jin is one of my best friends.  I’m gay, my girlfriend is just out-of-town so I agreed to come with him.”

You sighed a breath of relief. “Oh thank god, I was worried you would kill me or Namjoon.”

June giggled, she was adorable, and shook her head.  “No way.  Do you know how many times I’ve had to listen to Jin wax poetic about him?  I started to get a crush on him!” she teased.

June was easy to talk to, and you found yourself throwing back a beer and grasping at another before she asked if you wanted to head back towards the group.

“June! Hey!” a voice called out, causing you both to turn around.  The source of the voice was none other than Jungkook.

“Oh,” he faltered as he took in your body, your outfit.  Fuck, you looked good.  He willed himself not to pop a boner, especially since you were less than pleased with him. “Hey,” his cheeks were flaring red. 

“Hi Kook!” June exclaimed, hugging the muscular boy. Not that you were looking at his muscles.  “Where’s Jennie?”

Your head tilted, confused at the statement.  Jungkook was actively aware of your body language.  He coughed in order to relieve the tension in his throat.

“She’s just,” he didn’t know where to begin. “With some friends at the moment.”

You sucked at your teeth.  “Glad you found someone to go with after all, Jungkook. I would hate for you to have to resort to your second choice.”  

You spun around and stormed back towards your friends, leaving June and Kook in your wake.  

You avoided Jungkook for much of the night.  You danced with your friends, roasted marshmallows with Namjoon, did shots with Jimin and Tae, and walked down the shore towards the lifeguard booth you worked at regularly with your date.

“So,” you smiled at him. “Seems like you hit it off with Seokjin.”

Namjoon’s cheeks bloomed red. “Well, sure, yeah,” he gasped.  “He’s… nice.”

You elbowed the man gently. “Joonie, it’s okay.  You like him.”  

Namjoon paused and looked at you before gazing back at his feet.

“I’m so sorry. I know you like me, and Tae always talks about your crush on me, but I’m… I’m gay.  You’re beautiful and all, but I just don’t see you that way.”

You spluttered, laughing with confusion.  

“What!? Tae told you what!? Oh, my god,” you laughed. “I thought you were gay, Joon!  And I love you as a friend, but I don’t have a crush on you.”

He looked relieved, eyes now locked on yours.  “What? Really?” He gasped, then frowned.  “I’m going to fucking kill him.”

You hugged him tight.  “He was so desperate to see us get together he didn’t see the obvious,” you sighed after you pulled away. “Seokjin likes you too.  You should go to him.  The girl he’s with isn’t his girlfriend. It’s his lesbian best friend.”  You laughed at the incredulity of the circumstances of the night.

Namjoon held you tight and smiled. “Sorry,” he mumbled awkwardly. “I’m glad we came together though, I enjoy being with you.  As friends.” He added.  

You quickly nodded and agreed. “Now go suck his dick! I can walk myself home.” 

Joon blushed again. It was easy to get that reaction out of him.  He kissed your hands and turned back towards the party, seeking the older man.

You ambled towards the lifeguard station, quickly hopping up to sit on the weather-worn wood planks and watch the waves roll in.  It was nice to step away from the party, from the crowds and noise.  Being at the ocean at night reminded you of how much you loved it, how you felt as if it rushed through your veins.  

“I see you’re lost in your own thoughts again,” a familiar voice called.  You quickly snapped at the intruder.  Jungkook.  Of course, you couldn’t escape him.  You wanted him near and wanted him gone all at once.

“I was calling your name again, and you didn’t hear me.  Maybe you should see a doctor,” he teased as he hopped up next to you on the shack porch.  

You grumbled.  “What are you doing out here?” You asked. “Aren’t you like the life of the party? Where’s Jennie?”

He frowned and looked out at the water. “Making out with her ex.”

Oh, yikes.  You felt bad for him, regardless of if he deserved it or not.

“Sorry,” you mumbled.  

“I’m tired of the party.  Everyone wants to talk to me about the money and the fame from my sponsorships.  No one asks me how I’m feeling about the competition.”

You bit your lip, allowing Jungkook to continue.

“It gets old, I guess.  Girls always wanting to talk about my sponsorship deals, and if I’ve met any Olympians,” he chuckled darkly.  “Sorry, I sort of dumped that on you.”

You shook your head, staring at the object of your affections.  “I get it,” you agreed. “If it’s any consolation, I think you’ll do great at the tournament.”  You bit your lip, afraid to continue the compliment.  “I’ve watched you, you know.  You’re really good.”

“Just really good?” he teased.  You poked him in the stomach in retort.

“Yes, Jungkook, you’re really good.  You’re the best for a reason.”  Your face returned to a thoughtful look.  “Are you nervous?”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, I am.  I’m scared to disappoint anyone.  My friends, my family, my coach…” he trailed off. “I guess I’m more scared of disappointing them than I am about losing.”

“You’re not scared of losing?”

“Not really, no.” He let his legs sway in the open air.  “If it came down to it, I’d rather lose than disappoint them somehow.  But the two seem to be tied together. I can’t lose without making them upset.”

“Do you love what you do?” The question was simple, but held such significance to Jungkook.  He looked at you, amazed at the sincerity in your face and questions.  God, he could kiss you right now.

“I used to,” he spoke after a beat of staring at your lips. “I liked it when I could do it how I wanted.  When I could just surf for fun, and maybe for a prize here and there.  But now, I’m expected to win. All the time. Never make your hobby into your job,” he sighed.

You let your hand rest on his thigh. “You can be in charge of your life, Jungkook,” you murmured.  “You’re an adult. You can lose if you want to.  You could quit all together. What anyone else wants for you isn’t as important as what you want for you.”

Jungkook let the idea roll in his mind. He stared at you, unused to talking so frankly and freely about his life and career and dreams, let alone with a girl he was attracted to.

“I want to kiss you,” he spoke, quiet and confident.  Your eyes widened.

“You do?”

He nodded, not allowing any anxiety to roll through him or let him make an ass of himself again. “I do.”

Your heart was beating ten times too fast.  It felt as if it might launch out of your chest cavity.

“Okay,” you breathed. “I want you to kiss me.”

Jungkook leaned forward and pressed his warm lips to yours.  He tasted like the ocean, salty and earthy.  He tasted like beer, bitter and sharp.  He tasted like what you imagined was the essence of Jungkook, warm and sweet.  

He let his hand rest on your cheek, thumb caressing your cheek as his fingers wound through your hair.  He deepened the kiss, tongue swirling into the cavern of your mouth to seek purchase. He wanted you, all of you.

You sighed against his lips, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth as you returned the favor.  You each made small, slight and tiny gasps.  Jungkook pressed towards you, laying you down on the hard wood of the lifeguard deck as he continued kissing you, fingers combing through your hair.

“I’m sorry I was an ass,” he whispered. “I promise I’m not that big of an asshole, you just get me so flustered.”

You giggled against his lips, pulling him in for another deep caress of your tongue.  “I forgive you, as long as you keep that promise.”

Jungkook moved his fingers towards your bikini top, dipping into your cleavage.  “I almost passed out when I saw you in this,” he admitted, resting his forehead against yours. 

You didn’t need to reply, as Jungkook began kissing the tops of your breasts, sucking gently on the skin of your cleavage.  He was definitely leaving marks, and you hoped your work swimsuit would cover the evidence.  

You moaned under his touch, sighing as he pulled the top down further to expose your hardened nipples.  At the feel of his tongue on one nub, you jolted up, aware of your surroundings.

“Wait! Stop!” You gasped.  Jungkook pulled away quickly, eyes boring into yours with confusion.  

“What’s wrong?”

“Not out here!” You begged, dragging him into the interior of the lifeguard’s shack.  It was measly, with a desk, a chair and a long padded bench, but it would have to work.

Jungkook’s concern melted away and a cocky smile spread across his lips.  

“You wanna fuck at work, huh? Kinky.”

You kissed him hard again, ignoring his teasing comments.  He quickly untied the top completely and threw it to the ground and allowed himself to revel in the feel of your naked breasts.  He easily pressed you down to sit on the bench and stood before you.  

“Okay, I know I was joking before about fucking at work, but this is actually really hot,” he groaned at the sight of you, tits out and lips puffy from his kissing.   

He knelt in front of you and buried his face in your tits, licking and sucking at the sensitive skin. 

You jerked and arched your back into him, allowing your head to bob back. 

“Ohhhh, fuck,” you sighed as he tugged on a nipple harshly. “So good.” 

Jungkook was encouraged and sucked harder, lifting his fingers to your other nub to twist and pinch and pull. The high whine that left your lips shot straight to his cock. 

“Fuck, babe,” he breathed. “You’re so responsive.”  He marveled at you, the way the moon shone on your naked body.  His hand moved from your breast to your skirt and tugged the denim up. 

He hissed at the sight of your bare pussy, no underwear in sight.  

“Shit, fuck,” he took a steadying breath to ground himself. “That was so unexpected and so fucking hot.”

You blushed. “Panty lines,” you offered as a response. 

“Fuck yeah, panty lines,” he wheezed, knowing his words made no sense and watched your cunt slick your thighs.  

He let a finger drag up and down your slit, ripping a loud moan from your throat.  Jungkook was about to finger you. Jungkook, the man you had been in love with for three summers was about to eat you out.  This must be a dream, right?

“So pretty,” he cooed, eyes glued to your slippery cunt. “Wanna eat you up.”

“Please, yes, fuck,” you babbled. “Please Kook, I want you so bad.”  

He smirked and leaned forward and pressed his tongue against your clit, one quick flick against the bud. He pulled back and savored the taste on his tongue. “Mmm, perfect.”

You cried at the loss of sensation, pussy clenching around nothing and nearly screaming in need for the surfer to please you. Your legs spread wantonly, tits out and skirt hiked up around your waist.  It was filthy. You fucking loved it. 

Jungkook easily slipped two fingers into your tight heat and dropped his jaw in a groan at the feel of your silky wet walls sucking his fingers.  You keened your approval and gasped for more. He was staring at the way you took his fingers, hypnotized by the push and pull of your channel. 

“Fuck, I could probably cum just from watching this,” he breathed. “I’ve never been so turned on by fingering someone before.” 

Your breathing was heavy, panting harshly as you felt his long digits slowly fuck into you. 

“Shit, Jungkook, please I’m aching,” you begged. “My clit, p-please.”

He nodded dutifully and lowered his mouth to suck at your clit.  You tasted exquisite, like fine wine, and he was thirsty. 

Electric pulses danced down your spine as you finally received what you needed, moaning his name encouragingly. You threaded your hands through his hair, gasping for air and squeaking in delight at every swirl of his tongue. 

He fucked you harder with his fingers, establishing a quick pace. 

“You look so fucking good,” he complimented. “Your pussy fucks my fingers so good.  It’s going to feel fucking fantastic with my cock shoved in it.” 

You nodded in agreement, eyes shut tight as your fingers tightened their hold on his shiny locks. “Jungkook, fuck! There, right there!! Shit!” You gasped, feeling the beginning torrent of your orgasm. 

He obeyed, making out with your cunt and suckling at your clit as he slipped another finger inside you and fucked you fervently. Your body was like his last meal on earth and he would savor every last drop. 

“Cum for me, babe. Fuck, I bet you look so fucking hot cumming on my fingers.” 

His pumping fingers and punishing tongue speared you into an intense orgasm, cunt walls convulsing around him. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle the scream of pleasure as your body shook. 

Jungkook had never felt more proud of anything in his life. He had fucked a lot of girls, but never any as responsive as you. You were addictive. 

“Jesus,” he gasped, sliding his finger from your spent pussy, dripping in your release. “Suck.” 

He pressed his fingers into your mouth and groaned as you sucked obediently, showing exactly what you would do to his cock were the fingers replaced in your mouth with it.  His groan of approval told you he was looking forward to it. 

“Jungkookkkkieee!” A drunk, female voice hollered out on the beach.  You both shot up, attempting to fix yourself and throw your bikini back over your body. 

Jungkook ducked out to see who was calling him. His eyes narrowed as he saw Jennie faltering in the sand, drunk. 

“Fuck,” he murmured. “It’s Jennie.” 

You frowned. “I thought she was with her ex…”

“Me too.”

“Jungkooookie! Where are you?! I’m ready to go home and get fucked like you promised meeeeeee!” She giggled as she fell into the sand, unaware of the couple in the lifeguard shack. 

Your eyes narrowed to slits at the surfer. He winced, feeling as if they were daggers in him. 

“Look, I didn’t say that-...”

“I get it now,” you snapped as you tied your top back around your neck. 

“Listen! Wait!” He attempted to stop you and grab your hands, but you quickly wrenched them away and shoved him from you. 

“Fuck you, Jungkook!  I’m always the second choice, huh?  Jennie fucks off with her ex so you look for your fallback plan.” Your words were dripping in malice, in regret. 

“No! I promise! I didn’t tell her that!  I haven’t fucked her except once like 2 months ago!” He begged for you to stay. “I don’t want her! I want you.”

“I can’t believe I’m this fucking stupid,” you shook your head and gathered your belongings and stormed out of the shack.  He quickly followed behind you, begging you to let him explain himself. You ignored him valiantly, the tears now falling down your face. 

“If you’d just fucking listen to me, I could explain-..”

You cut him off by turning towards him and jabbing angry fingers in his face. 

“No, you fucking listen,” your voice was dark, and he tracked the tears falling from your face. “I’ve liked you for three fucking years now. I never thought I had a chance with you. And I was fine with that.  But you fucking dangled it in front of me. You played me.”  You bit your cheek, desperately wanting to slap his stupid, beautiful face, but held yourself back. 

“Good luck at the tournament, Jungkook.”

And you turned, and you left, running quickly to find Tae to get home to cry. 

—-

“Welcome to the 43rd Annual National Surfing Tournament!” The loudspeaker voice boomed through the beach. It felt like it echoed through your heart.  

You sucked your teeth, thoroughly unimpressed with the fanfare.  

You were stationed at a makeshift perch, close to the shore. You, along with Tae and Jimin, were the selected lifeguards for the event in case of emergency. 

You fought your manager when you saw your name on the list for the event.  

There was no way you could be on the same beach as Jeon Jungkook. 

But there was no way out, Jimin and Tae just sent sad frowns to you and murmured compassionate encouragement. 

So you stood at your position, sunglasses covering your eyes, as you watched the surfers line up at the shore. You avoided looking at the tall, black-haired one. You tried and failed. 

He looked tired, nervous. He ran his hands through his hair anxiously and picked at spots on his board. 

Whatever. You pushed away any thoughts of care towards the man. 

He stole a glance at you, noticing you turn your face away the moment he looked up. He frowned, eyes back at the shore lapping at his feet. 

Jungkook readied himself. Within moments, the siren rang, and he tore off towards the water, hopped on his board, and paddled towards the swells. He monitored the competing surfers, wanting to move far away from them to avoid a collision and snag a wave all for himself. 

He swam right, leaving the pack of surfers in the center to move closer to the pier beams. It was risky, he could over correct a fall and slide right into a current that would slam him into the huge beams of wood. But the waves crashing there were perfect.  Tubular, even. 

He paddled harder, eager to get his first run in. 

You narrowed your eyes as you watched him move towards the pier. What was he doing?  That was a dangerous area, and a grip on your throat kept your eyes glued to the man. 

He stared ahead, watched as the swell of the wave started, before turning around and paddling. He kept his eye behind him on the wave, moving to correct himself and hit the wave at just the right spot. He steadied his feet on the board and stood, thrusting his hips forward to propel the board on top of the now-crested wave.  His smile lit up his entire body. 

He did it; you cheered internally, before scolding yourself. Who cares, certainly not you. 

Jungkook balanced and risked a run through the rolling wave. He timed it well enough he could make it before the tube filled with water.  With a quick jut of his legs and his hip, he shoved his body and board through the tube, fingers dragging across the glassy surface. 

God, he looked gorgeous.  The wave encircled him, as if he were the god of the water. 

You felt your throat jump high in your mouth. 

The tube was closing quickly; the wave dying down. Getting caught in a rip curl was deadly, forcing the victims underwater for too long. 

Jungkook pressed his body closer to the board, willing the aerodynamics to take him faster to the end of the tube. 

You watched him, crying out loud to encourage him to hurry, as if he could hear you from your perch. 

Within seconds, the wave crashed and dragged the surfer down with him. 

Jungkook tumbled off the longboard, head cracking hard against the polyurethane surface.  He groaned as water overtook him.

Fuck.

You acted on instinct. You threw the life preserver behind you and ran into the water.  You waited for the incoming wave to pass overhead before resurfacing and swimming to him as fast as you could. 

You were crying, you noticed, tears escaping your body as you swam harder than you had in your life. You could see him swirling in the water, and you panicked. How were you going to get him out? Without killing yourself in the process. 

You squeezed your eyes tight and held yourself sturdy as the wave washed over you, ducking under the water to allow it to pass.

As it passed, you resurfaced and found Jungkook still in the water, not moving, with his surfboard still attached by the tether to his ankle.  Fuck, was he unconscious?

You pressed towards him, forcing water out of the way to reach him as quickly as possible, knowing the possibility of him drowning while unconscious was high.  

A sob left your lips as you reached the surfer and used all the strength in your body to heave his upper half onto the surfboard.  He groaned.  You breathed out the air you didn’t realize you were holding.  He was alive, thank god.

“Jungkook! Are you okay?” you asked, pushing hair out of his face.  Your eyes darted around his body.  He was breathing, didn’t appear to have any broken body parts yet, but was bleeding profusely from his forehead, likely when he hit his board in the crash.

You held your hand against the wound, willing it to stop with the pressure. “It’s okay, Kook,” you murmured. “I’m here, it’s okay.”  You didn’t know if the words were reassuring for him, or for you.  Perhaps both.  

The sound of a boat drew you from your attendance to his wound. The large Coast Guard speed boat pulled up beside you and threw in a rope ladder for you to climb on, while skilled men lifted the unconscious Jungkook and his board out of the water. You spotted Yoongi at the helm. You didn’t realize he was Coast Guard, and he rushed to you to hug you close. You sighed a breath of relief at the comfort, thankful you and Jungkook were both all right.  

Harsh, choking coughs came from the ground and you pulled from Yoongi to see Jungkook spluttering water from his mouth.  You cried at the sight of him awake, breathing, and fell to your knees beside him.  The medics had placed gauze and a makeshift bandage on his forehead, protecting his wound and stifling the blood.

“You fucking asshole,” you chided as you delicately pulled the man into your arms.  He easily wrapped his arms around you, still gasping for air, clinging to you like his last lifeline. 

Jungkook sat in the worn room of the lifeguard shack, a towel wrapped around his shoulders, a blanket on his lap. 

“You might be in shock,” you murmured, watching him from your knees on the floor. 

“You know, when I pictured you on your knees for me, it wasn’t at a time when I almost died.”  He tried to lighten the mood and watched your face pull a smile, before looking towards the floor again. You still hadn’t forgotten the night of the party. The heartbreak at feeling like his second choice, again. 

“Sorry, that was stupid,” he chastised himself. “I meant to say thank you.  Thank you for helping me. What I did was dumb and risky.”

You scooted closer to him and held his hand in yours. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I'm glad you’re all right. I’m sorry you didn’t win the tournament.”

He shrugged. “Honestly, I forgot about it,” he admitted. “It was so fun trying out that stupid move, I forgot I was competing.” 

You couldn’t help but smile up at the surfer. 

“You lost…” . 

“Because I wanted to.” He smiled. 

He knelt down to meet you on the floor, face impossibly close to yours. 

“I’m so sorry, for everything. I was an asshole, even when I promised you I wouldn’t be.  You’re not my second choice,” he whispered. “You’re my first choice. You saved me, not just from a large head wound,”  he motioned to the wrapped bandage around his forehead with a wry smile. “You saved me from a life of trying to prove I’m not a disappointment and lose out on what I loved in life.” 

Your eyes sparkled with tears. “I’m proud of you.” 

“That’s all I needed to hear.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you as if you were the life preserver pulling him from the churning depths below the surface.  

“Jungkook, I swear to god if you don’t let me suck your cock, I will explode,” you whined as you sat on your knees. 

Jungkook grinned at you from the office chair of the lifeguard shack. He was still dripping wet from playing in the surf with Hoseok and Yoongi, wetsuit tight on his toned body.  

“My, my.  Who knew it took me wearing my wetsuit again for my girlfriend to turn into a cock slut?  I just stopped by to say hi, and you’re on your knees for me.” He teased, unzipping the suit to his navel. 

“You look so fucking good, I can’t help it,” you begged, hands reaching to help him unzip the rest. “And I know you’re naked under here.”  The thought of his cock so near was mouthwatering. 

He couldn’t help but sigh with pleasure as you pulled the zipper down all the way and released his thick length from its wet confines. “Mmm, you were right.”  He smirked as you grasped his cock in your hands, gasping as you pressed a kiss to the tip. 

You sucked his cock into your mouth, enveloping the entire length in your throat. He tasted like the ocean, so salty and pleasant. He tasted like Jungkook, warm and sweet. 

You bobbed your head up and down his length, groaning at the feeling of his cock touching the back of your throat. 

“Shit, babe, you’re so good,” he grunted, allowing his eyes to shut in pleasure. 

You continued your journey, sucking and bobbing expertly and adding a fist to help jerk him to completion. He whined, already so close, and tapped your shoulder. “Gonna cum, baby.”

Your hand grasped at his balls, rubbing your hands down and over the sensitive sack, encouraging him to release down your throat. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck,” he gasped quickly. With a few drags of your tongue and throat, he was releasing his load into your mouth.  You hummed with pleasure, allowing his cock to fall from your mouth with a pop, and swallowed the load down. You stuck your tongue out to show your clean mouth. 

“Good girl,” he cooed. “Now, be a doll and let me fuck you over the desk,” he ordered as he slapped your swimsuit covered ass. 

You squeaked and jumped into position, bending over the old desk and pushing your ass out towards him. 

“Yes, daddy,” you teased. 

He quirked an eyebrow. “That’s new.” 

“Thought we’d try it out, daddy,” you emphasized with a wiggle of your ass. 

“I don’t hate it,” he shrugged, tugging the strip of fabric that covered your cunt to the side. 

“Hurry and fuck me, babe, my break is over in 20 minutes.” 

He huffed. “I thought daddy gave the orders, baby,” he frowned. 

“Sorry, daddy. Please fuck me, I only have 20 minutes.”  Your eyes pleaded with him, giving him the puppy dog stare he couldn’t resist. 

With one push, Jungkook was fully enveloped in your slick heat. He gasped at the familiar feeling of your cunt, one he would never ever get sick of. 

“Fuck,” he whined. 

You agreed with a moan and a jiggle of your hips, begging to start a rhythm. 

Jungkook was weak and complied, quickly settling into quick thrusts. He knew he didn’t have much time to drag this out, so he was intent on getting you off as quickly as he could. 

You arched your back, gasping at the feel of him filling you.  Jungkook seemed to fit perfectly inside you, and you gawped at how quickly he could wring orgasms out of you with his cock. 

“You like bending over the desk for me, hmm?” he questioned. “You’re so wet.”

You murmured a low response, straight from your throat. The tendrils of orgasm slowly worked their way around your stomach, threatening to explode as Jungkook nudged your cervix with each push. 

“Shit, right there,” you cried, grasping for the edges of the desk to steel yourself. 

Jungkook simply went harder, faster, angling himself at the angle you needed. Watching you fall apart under his hands surpassed any feeling. He loved bringing you to your knees. 

“Yeah, fuck,” he grunted. “Cum on my cock.”

You threw your head back, moaning loudly at your boyfriend’s ability to disintegrate your core in minutes. It didn’t help that he had worked you up in his wetsuit, and sucking his cock had pleased you more than you thought possible. You were so close, so deliciously close. 

“Oh, my god! Baby, I’m cumming, fuck!” You tried to muffle your cries, but Jungkook thrusted harder as your cunt fluttered and convulse around him. He keened at the feeling, swiftly bringing himself to an end inside you. He loved filling you up, seeing his cum slip down your thighs. 

You panted hard, gazing back at the surfer standing behind you as he pulled his softening cock from your depths. 

“I love you,” you smiled. 

Jungkook lifted a cocky grin, hand still wrapped around his cock to stuff back into his wetsuit. 

“And I love you.” He punctuated with a kiss on your back as he slipped your swimsuit back into place along your core. 

Jungkook was like the ocean. Turbulent, unexpected. Salty and sweet.  Relaxing and energetic.  And you loved Jungkook just as you did the dark blue waves.  

Jungkook loved the ocean, too.  He loved spending hours surfing, playing in the water with you, napping on a towel in the sand, chasing you with seaweed, fucking you in the lifeguard tower.  He loved everything about the beach and the shore.

But Jungkook’s most beloved aspect of the beach was you.

[obx-adventures]

The Introverted Twin

Summary - Being John B’s bookish twin isn’t easy. Especially with my best friend, Pope, being weird about me getting closer with JJ.

Flashbacks in italics

Warning: Mild smut at the end 😁

Catch up here: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4

——

Chapter 5

When I get back to the Chateau, I run inside to find JJ. John B calls out for me but I ignore him. I’m on a mission and not even my brother can stop me. Once I determine JJ isn’t at my house, I jump back in the van and drive to the beach. I finally find him 30 minutes later sitting alone on a pier, lost in his own thoughts.

I give myself a pep talk and remember what Sarah told me. I walk over and sit beside him, nervously reaching out to take his hand.

“Hi JJ,” I start tentatively. “I’m sorry I ran from you earlier.”

“It’s ok, Y/N,” he mutters. It makes me anxious that he is using my real name. “It’s probably best that you left.”

“J, what’s wrong?” JJ’s eyes are red and tears are streaming down his face.

“John B and I got into it after you left. He called me out on some stuff and then told me to leave.”

“Was it about me?” I whisper, afraid that I’m the source of his pain.

He doesn’t answer but turns to look at me. I reach out to brush away his tears and he shudders at my touch. We get lost in each other’s eyes for a few minutes. His are filled with emotion but he looks so conflicted. I’m overcome with the desire to kiss him, but I can’t risk doing that until I know where he stands.

“JJ, you’ve known me for a long time,” I begin anxiously. “You know that I have a hard time expressing how I feel, especially when it’s something big. But it’s you so I’m going to take a leap of faith. Is that ok?”

“Sunshine, you can tell me anything.” JJ gently squeezes my hand to encourage me.

“I… umm, shit, ok… I… damnit, I don’t know why I can’t just say what I want to,” I exclaim, frustrated with myself.

“How about I go first? Give you some time to find the words?”

I can only nod in response, frozen in my own anxiety. He’s staring into my eyes and it’s the most intimate moment of my life. It feels like he’s boring into my soul and I’m worried he won’t like what he sees.

“I want you,” he confesses. “All of you. Your amazing brain, your beautiful heart, your gorgeous eyes. I want every part of you even though I know I shouldn’t. I know that you deserve so much more than I can give you. You are supposed to be the one to get out of here and I would be an anchor around your waist. I’ve been trying to push this down and let you go. But then you look at me like you are right now and it takes everything in me not to kiss you.”

His admission gives me the boost of confidence I need to act. Before I can think too much about it, I lean in and kiss him. His lips are salty from the ocean and his tears, but they are soft and gentle. Our lips move together slowly at first and I feel his hand reach up to cradle my cheek. His thumb brushes along my jaw while he runs his tongue along my lower lip. I open my mouth to give him access and he deepens the kiss as my hands reach up to run my fingers through his hair. When we break apart to catch our breath, I lean my forehead to his and sigh in contentment.

“JJ, I think I’m in love with you,” I whisper.

“But I’m not good enough for you, Sunshine,” he whines as he pulls back from me.

“I’m the only person who gets to decide who’s good enough for me. And you’re the person I want. You pull me out of shell and pay attention to the details of my life. You planned this amazing trip to the planetarium for us even though I haven’t talked about going in at least a year. You can tell when and why I get lost in my own head and help me come back to reality. You make me laugh more than anyone else. You have this vision of yourself as a fuck up who isn’t worthy of love. But that’s so wrong. You are so amazing.”

JJ stares at me in awe. I can see that he’s trying to process everything I just said so I give him a minute. Without warning, he stands up and drags me up with him. He continues holding my hand as he walks down the pier back to the beach. We walk in silence for a while and I begin to get anxious. Suddenly, he stops walking and moves to stand in front of me.

“Sunshine, John B basically banned me from dating you,” JJ tells me as he looks down to the sand.

“Wait, what?! That chauvinistic ass! He does not get to dictate my life.” John B has always tried to protect me but this is way out of bounds.

“Let me explain a little better... After you left the Chateau, I went inside to find out where you were going. John B said he wanted to talk to me.”

“Dude, what’s the deal with you and my sister?” John B can’t unsee the confused expression on Y/N’s face when he asked if something was going on between them.

“I like her, JB, a lot,” JJ admits. “But nothing has happened between us. Sometimes I think she likes me too but then she pulls back. I don’t know, man.”

“JJ, you can’t fuck around with Y/N,” John B knows JJ wouldn’t intentionally hurt his sister, but he also knows that JJ has never committed more than one night to a girl. “You know her, and you know how you are with girls. You can’t just mack on her and then disappear. That would kill her.”

“Bro, that is not what I want.” JJ run his hand through his hair, trying to contain his temper. He can’t believe his best friend thinks that he would do that. “She isn’t the type of girl that you just mack on.”

“What happens when it falls apart? You’re my best friend but it doesn’t mean I won’t beat your ass when you hurt her.”

“Why do you think I’m going to hurt her? I’m not stupid. I know how special she is.”

“Right, she has a chance to get out of here,” John B responds quickly. He has always known that his sister’s destiny is outside the Outer Banks. “She’s crazy smart but once she commits to something, she doesn’t let it go. I don’t want her to get stuck here.”

“I don’t want to hold her back! I want more for her than this bullshit, scrimping and scraping all the time to make ends meet.”

“But she’ll stay” John B explains. “For you, she’ll stay, and she’ll never do all the shit she wants to.”

“I could go with her,” JJ pleads, unsure if he’s trying to convince his best friend or himself. “I could be part of that life.”

“JJ come on. You and I, we’re lifers here. You can’t drag her down to our level. Go think about it before you do anything stupid. I need to try to find my sister.”

I am shocked at my brother’s behavior. Shocked that he would say such hurtful things to his best friend. He knows the verbal abuse that JJ gets from his father. Why the hell would he add fuel to that fire?

“JJ, listen to me,” I tell him as I gently grab his cheeks. “Do you want to be with me? And I don’t want you to think about the reasons why you think you shouldn’t. Just a yes or no.”

“Yes, of course I do,” JJ replies earnestly. “But –”

“No buts, JJ. If you want to be with me and I want to be with you, that’s enough. The rest of the shit will get figured out.”

“What about JB and Pope?”

“I’ll deal with them. John B was right about one thing, though. Once I’m in, I’m all in. Before I fully commit, I need to know that you aren’t going to bail. Are you in this for real?”

JJ pulls me in for a passionate kiss. He’s holding my face gently with both hands and claiming me as his own. He tilts my face slightly to gain deeper access as he slowly slides one hand down to my neck and the other down to my lower back to pull me closer. With my whole body pressed against his and his tongue exploring my mouth, every part of me feels like it’s on fire. I place my hands against his chest and roam over his rippling muscles, trying to memorize every dip and curve. He slowly pulls back and returns both of his hands to my face.

“I am in, 100%. Let’s go back to my place to figure all of this out. My dad is out on a fishing trip so we don’t need to worry about him.”

“JJ, we can go to the Chateau,” I tell him, thinking he’s anxious about seeing my brother again. “I told you I’ll deal with John B.”

“Sunshine, can we just have some time together before we bring our whole world into this?” The idea of alone time with JJ sends a shiver through my body. It feels like we are in our own delicate bubble and I realize that I’m not ready for that bubble to pop yet either.

I nod at him and he pulls me along to the van. I don’t want to leave John B stranded at home, so he follows behind me on his bike back to the Chateau. I hastily write a note telling my brother that I’m ok and I’ll be back in the morning. I leave the keys and note on the driver’s seat and run over to JJ. I’m a little nervous about riding on his bike but don’t hesitate to climb on behind him and wrap my arms around his torso.

When we get to his house, JJ leads me by the hand to his room. Even though he knows his father isn’t home, he locks his bedroom door as a precaution. I haven’t been in JJ’s room since we were kids and I take a moment to explore the one space in the world that is completely his own.

I’m surprised to find so much of his personality in the room since he spends so much time at my house. He has a wall completely dedicated to the Pogues, covered in pictures and mementos of all of our adventures. I stop exploring when I see a piece of art that I don’t recognize. It’s a pencil drawing of me hunched over studying. I’m in profile, so he must have been sitting on the couch while I was studying at the table. My hair is thrown up into a messy bun, held in place by two pens. I’m wearing one of my dad’s old sweatshirts and have a pencil resting on my temple while I chew on my bottom lip.

“I didn’t know that you draw,” I say quietly as I continue to take in all the details of the picture.

“Only when I’m inspired. You were studying for the SATs the first time you took them. I think you sat in that position for 6 hours. I’m pretty sure you didn’t even know I was there. You were so focused and intent, I couldn’t help watching you and sketching. That was when I realized I have feelings for you.”

I turn to JJ and study his face. He looks vulnerable, something I’m not used to with him. I walk over and pull him into another kiss. This kiss feels different than the others we’ve shared today. JJ slowly walks me backwards until my legs bump into his bed. He guides me down to the pillow and settles next to me with one arm tucked under my neck. I turn so I can look at him and our noses are inches apart.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he whispers as his hand slowly glides down my cheek to feel along my neck. He traces his fingers along the exposed skin on my chest and I rest my hand on his waist, feeling his muscles contract as he breath shallowly. I move my hand slightly to get under his shirt and touch his soft skin. I smile when I feel goosebumps form. He follows my lead and trails his hand down my side, and I can’t help the small gasp that escapes as he brushes along the side of my breast. His hand continues down to the hem of my shirt and I sigh when his warm fingers touch my bare skin.

I lean towards his face and press delicate kisses along his cheek bones and down his jawline. I’ve never kissed someone like this, so I rely on instinct and JJ’s reactions as a guide. My mouth travels down to his neck and I slowly work my way up behind his ear. I lick along his ear lobe and he hums in response. I nibble gently along his ear and feel his hand tighten on my waist. I give him deep kisses down the side of his neck and then leave feather light kisses as I move back up to meet his mouth.

When our mouths connect, it’s like an explosion. His tongue slowly runs along my lower lip and then he catches it with his teeth. I moan as he tugs my lip slightly and I move my hand up his back. He swipes his tongue into my mouth and kisses me hungrily. I dig my fingers into his back, and he smiles against my mouth. He kisses along my cheek and then moves to the spot behind my ear. I shiver at the contact and scrape my nails down his back. He pulls me closer to him as his hand roams up my side, under my shirt. He hesitates before touching my breasts until I nod in consent. He then firmly cups my breast in his large hands and trails his finger under the top of my bra to brush against my nipple.

I throw my leg over his hip and use the momentum to flip him on his back with me straddling his lap. His hands automatically rest on my waist and his eyes are filled with lust. I grab the bottom hem of my shirt and pull it off in one smooth motion. I watch JJ take in my lace bra as his hands roam up to touch me. I lean forward and meet his mouth again as his hands explore my body. I feel his erection under my core, and I rock slightly against him, eliciting a moan.

He rolls us over and trails kisses down my neck and makes his way to my breast. He sucks my skin on the top of breast while his fingers tease my other nipple through the lace. I groan and arch my back to give him more access. He roughly pulls down the lace to swirl his tongue around my nipple while he continues to the tease the other. I drag my fingernails up the bare skin on his sides and feel him shiver. I move my hand along his waist band and hook my fingers into the top of his shorts to pull him closer.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says as he pulls away.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask timidly.

“Fuck no, Sunshine... we just need to call timeout.” I’ve never heard JJ sound so unsteady.

“You don’t want to keep going?” I can’t hide the insecurity in my voice.

“No, I definitely do.” He rubs my cheek tenderly with his thumb. “But I don’t want to rush into this. I want this to be different. I want your first time, our first time, to be special.”

“JJ, everything I do with you is already special,” I insist as I cup his face. “It’s not the circumstances that make something special, it’s the person that you do it with.”

“I know, I just want to do this right, is that ok?” I can tell from his voice and the way he’s looking at me that he’s as new to this as I am. He may not be a virgin, but this is still a totally novel situation for him.

“Of course, J” I cuddle into him and enjoy the feeling of his strong arms around me.

“Can I take you on a date tomorrow, Sunshine?” He traces his fingers over my still exposed skin while he awaits my answer.

“I would love that, J. I just need to go home first for a bit.”

“You going to talk to John B?”

“Yes, my brother and I will be having a firm conversation about his role in my life.”

“I don’t want to get between - ” I stop JJ with a kiss.

“Stop, don’t worry about me and John B,” I insist. “We’ll be fine. And you two will be fine.”

“What about Pope?”

“I’m not sure... The last thing I want to do is hurt him even more. He’s my best friend but I can’t make myself feel something that isn’t there.”

“He’s one of my best friends, too.” I hear the guilt in his voice. “But Pope is a good guy, he would want us to be happy, right?”

“I hope so. I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow too.”

We spend the rest of the evening talking and cuddling. I feel safe in JJ’s arms and fall asleep listening to his steady heartbeat as he combs through my hair with his nimble fingers.

Ch 6

Taglist: @agirlwholovescoffee @obxlife @meaganjm @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @velyssaraptor @lunaposey @http-cherries @prejudic3 @love-youu-softly @rudyismymanperiod @justcallmesams @celestialmaybank @yasminesameh @chaoticbisous @liloddcora

[bopbopstyles]

4. Goodbye and Facetime Calls

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 9.3k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG | ASK

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: thank you for all the love on pt. 3! here’s pt. 4, sexy times included :) xoxo

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

Seeing Harry up on the big screen had her gasping—the sight of his beautiful faced stretched onto the screen, him clad in his army attire. When he almost drowned she reached over and gripped his arm and he just squeezed her knee with a knowing smile. He was brilliant and Y/N couldn’t believe how truly talented he was.

For Harry, watching the film next to her just gave him more time to reflect on what an idiot he was. Being with the cast again, being back in London, it had pulled him out of their relationship and into his life before her. He forgot to call, to reply to her texts, and to be honest he didn’t remember what time her flight was until after she’d already taken off. He knew that he had been an asshole and had made it worse in their fight, throwing her biggest fears back into her face. But Harry was determined to make it right—he didn’t want to lose her. He had tried so hard to break down her walls and now that he was finally on the inside, he couldn’t let her rebuild them.

At the after party, she lingered at his side, awe struck when he introduced her to Tom Hardy and Cillian Murphy. She gushed to both of them about how much she loved Peaky Blinders and they chuckled, asking her questions about her life and their life together. When she grazed over the topic of their relationship, Harry tightened, wishing it was a normal night when she would gush about how they met, about how Harry pursued her and proved her wrong.

When she went to find a bathroom, Fionn turned to him with a hard look. “What’s up with you two?”

He hadn’t been around Y/N and Harry together, but he knew Harry well enough to tell when something was wrong. They’d spent too long overheating in costumes on a beach together to not know each other’s emotions from the look on their faces. “Had a fight earlier.”

“What’d you do?”

“How’d you know it was me?”

Fionn chuckled lowly. “Harry, she can barely look at you.”

Harry watched her recede into the crowd, Gemma at her side. He had fucked up—royally, and he had to make it up to her. The longer they stayed at this party, the worse it would get, the more silence between them. They needed to talk and they needed to talk now. “I think we should go,” he told Fionn. “That’s not rude, is it?”

Fionn shook his head. “It’s your premiere, you can do whatever you want. Cillian looks about ready to head out too.”

Harry nodded and down the rest of his beer. “I’m going to call a car.” He gave Fionn a hug and promised to let him know how it went before heading off to find Jeff and get him to call a car for him and Y/N. When she reappeared, he wove through the crowd towards her.

“Everything alright?”

He nodded, placing a hand at her back. “I’m ready to go. Is that okay?”

The relief in her eyes was visible and Harry immediately regretted not doing this earlier. “Yes.” She followed him out, saying goodbye to his cast mates on the way and giving a tight hug to Gemma and Anne. Anne looked at Harry with a pointed glare as he led Y/N out, as if to say Fix this, and Harry was going to try his hardest. He couldn’t lose her.

Harry dropped his keys into the dish in the hallway and Y/N toed off her heels, sighing at the feeling of her toes released. He smiled, unlacing his boots—ones he adored—and set them next to hers.

“Can we talk?” Her eyes drifted to his, nodding and following him into his living room. He dropped onto his couch and Y/N curled into the opposite side, but he reached out and tugged her feet onto his lap, fingertips rubbing circles on her tight muscles. A sigh left her lips and Harry cheered for himself—a step in the right direction. “I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the silence. “I’m so, so sorry, baby.”

Y/N leaned her head against the back cushion of the couch and looked at him. “I know you are.”

“I fucked up. Took advantage of thinking you would always be there and didn’t put in the effort to show you how much I care. It’s not okay, and you have every right to be upset with me.”

“I appreciate that,” she replied, brushing a loose hair back from her face. “But I want to talk about what you said earlier…Do you feel like I’m stifling you?”

Harry’s heart shattered. Those words that felt wrong the second he said them but he was too proud to admit he had mis spoke. That he didn’t mean a word of them. “No,” he reassured her, “Not at all. I didn’t mean it. You don’t have to get over your fears, and from how I acted this week they obviously aren’t misplaced.” He scooted closer and reached out, brushing a knuckled down her cheek. “You deserve me telling you every minute of the day how much I care about you. And I love telling you.”

Y/N’s eyes welled and she reached up, holding his hand in hers. “Are you sure? I know it’s a lot—I have a lot of expectations—“

“None of them are bad,” he told her.

“But still,” she said, “if it ever becomes too much, you have to tell me. We promise each other we’d be honest, remember?”

He nodded, thumb tucking into hers. “I know. And Y/N, you’re more important than my career, I need you to know that. I—“ He choked on the words, them drying up in his throat. He didn’t want her to think he was saying them just to make her let him back in, but he meant them. God, he felt them in every bone in his body. “I love you,” he whispered, eyes deadlocked on hers. “I love you so much, Y/N, you’re everything to me.”

Y/N moved in an instant, her arms around him, forehead pressed to his own and he sagged from the smell of her perfume that he’d missed desperately. “I love you too, you idiot,” she said, giggling in a way that had him desperate to kiss her. “Don’t make me doubt it again.”

He chased her lips, tucking them between his sweetly. Harry loved kissing her like this, soft and sweet, just a constant reminder of how she they get for each other passing between them. Fingers gripped his neck and she pressed her face into his shoulder, Harry’s arms holding her close. Being this close to her made him sigh, the feeling of home.

“Can we go upstairs and cuddle in our PJs?” Y/N asked softly, and Harry murmured a yes. There was nothing he’d rather do than end the day with her in his arms.

When her makeup was off and Harry had braided her hair loosely behind her back, he finally asked her the question he had been throwing around since their fight. “Would you go on vacation with me?”

She lifted her head from where it rested on his chest, his fingers falling from her scalp. “When?”

“After the New York premiere,” he answered. “Know it’s soon, I just…I need time with just you. I was thinking Mallorca.”

She beamed. Months ago she mentioned that she had always wanted to Mallorca and Harry could tell that he had done well. He texted his travel agent earlier to look into flights and homes to Air BnBs for them, and with the look on Y/N’s face he had a feeling it would be the best vacation he had been on in a while.

A cool breeze blew in the windows she and Harry had left open overnight, the island air leaving a salty tinge to the beachfront condo Harry’s travel agent had found them. Y/N rolled over, peeking a look at Harry who was lying next to her naked except for the very small pair of white boxers he had pulled on before bed. He was still asleep and Y/N took advantage of the opportunity to study him.

Harry was beautiful—this she had established the moment she met him. But to behold him when he was literally the farthest thing from trying, just sleeping next to her, it demonstrated how truly gorgeous he was. The soft curve of his nose, the dusting of light freckles on his cheeks, so faint most people wouldn’t be able to see them, the mussed curls from his pillow. His lips and the hard line of his jaw that Y/N wanted to dust kisses across.

So she decided to do so. Leaning over, she nibbled soft kisses to his jaw, letting her hair fall across his exposed chest.

“Whatcha doin’?” Harry asked, voice gravely from sleep. He blinked, eyelids heavy and tilted his chin so he could peek a look at her. “Love?”

“Kissing on you,” she answered, licking delicately at the juncture of his jaw and neck and Harry hummed, hands drifting from the sheets to her body.

Running his knuckles up her bare back, he said, “Quite like wakin’ up like this.”

She loved his accent in the morning, his words clipped and rough in his throat. At the thought, she decided to give him a love bite on his throat so she could see it all day and night, claim him as hers. She licked over the spot she selected and then started to suck, grazing her teeth over the sensitive spot as Harry keened under her. Hands thumbing at her shoulders, nails sinking into her skin when she sucked particularly hard.

“You’re a menace,” Harry told her when she had finished her work, a thumb under her chin so she looked up at him. Resting her hands on his chest she placed her head on them, staring up at his eyes. “Sleep okay?”

“You kicked off the blankets again. Woke up completely bare.”

He grabbed at her, hauling her body over his. “I don’t see the issue.” Her breasts pressed against his chest, smushed between their bodies. She had slept nude, the warm temperature and lack of air conditioning leaving her sweating overnight if she didn’t. Also, they had had sex before they’d fallen asleep and Y/N didn’t have the energy to put her underwear on.

Tucking her head in the space between his shoulder and neck, she pressed open mouthed kisses to his shoulders. “How about you?”

“Better now,” he said, tucking her legs on either side of his waist.

“Hmm?”

“Now that I’m awake with you.”

Her head lifted at his sweet words and she smiled at him. The trip had brought out the sap in him and Y/N wasn’t complaining. After their fight she needed all the sappy Harry she could get to heal her heart. “What do you want to do today?” She twirled a strand of his hair around her fingers, delighting in how it fell back against his forehead coiled.

“M’only plan is fuckin’ you,” he said.

Y/N tried not to moan at the thought of his dick inside her. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, flipping her over so she was on her back, Harry hovering above her. “Wanna love on you, baby.”

She squirmed in his touch as his lips connected with her nipple, licking around the areola before sucking on the peak. With a pop he pulled off, switching the other one without giving Y/N even a moment to take a breath. In their position Harry had trapped her body, his knees on either side of her hips, arms by her head to hold up his body. She wanted to move, to grind against him, relieve even an ounce of the pressure building inside of her. “Har—“ His name broke off in her mouth when his fingers swiveled her clit, a sharp cry the drew her eyes shut.

“Sensitive this morning, hm?” Dipping his head he sucked a mark between her breasts, before blowing on the sensitive skin that had her keening underneath him. He was torturous and she didn’t want it to end.

“Please, Har,” she choked out as he nibbled on her tummy, “need you.”

“‘M comin,’” he chuckled, pulling back so he could wrestle his underwear off, “Promise. Don’t know why I even put these bloody things on.”

“Me either,” she replied, giggling at the sight of him so bothered by the underwear stuck at his ankles.

But then he was back and spreading her thighs apart and brushing his dick up and down her slit and murmuring about how wet she was for him and he’d barely done anything. Y/N bucked her hips up needing just a bit more and his tip dipped into her slightly and she gasped at the feeling. Harry pulled back, though, dropping from her slit. “Someone’s eager.” He reached down and tapped his tip against her, loving making her squeal and squirm under him.

It wasn’t just Y/N that got off on the foreplay, it was Harry too—it was one of their favorite parts of sex together, the build up, the teasing, the kisses and touches. Even just her kissing him sometimes made him hard, which had a tendency to cause problems when they were in public. Gazing down at Y/N below him, he paused, studying her beauty. Her hair tossed across the pillows, brown eyes staring up at him and lips wet from her tongue licking out.

When she bucked her hips, desperate for more, he pushed at them, trying to anchor her to the bed so he could continue to wind her up.

“No,” she whimpered, “no more teasing.” She grabbed at his ass, trying to get him inside of her. “Need you.”

And Harry couldn’t resist his girl. So he drove deep inside her, basking in the moment when he breached her hole. “Fuckkk,” he hissed, never adjusted to how tight she was in the morning, no matter how much he built her up. She always woke up needy and grabby, desperate for his skin on hers. “Tight, baby,” he mumbled, pulling out and back in, her moans a symphony to his ears.

“More,” she said, feet scrabbling on the sheets.

He gave it to her, hiking her ankle around his waist to hit the spot inside of her that she loved, and bent down to suck a love bite under her earlobe. Blowing on the spot had her hissing his name. This trip was partly so important to Harry because it was uninterrupted time with Y/N, something that with tour coming he wasn’t going to have for a long while. The thought of recording them together had crossed his mind, but he didn’t think Y/N would agree to it, so he didn’t bring it up. But the thought had him slamming into her hips, the pressure making them both groan.

“Fucked you last night,” he said, words punctured with a quick thrust, “and still want you so much, Y/N.” He drove into her with speed and depth that drew mewls from her, him loving the sound.

“Ow,” Y/N hissed, wrenching her head to the side.

“You okay?” His hips stuttered, wanting to make sure he hadn’t hurt her.

“Your arm’s on my hair,” she said, trying to pull her hair free.

He repositioned his forearms so her hair was free and swept it up onto the pillow above her, out of the way. “Better?”

“Perfect,” she murmured, capturing his lips. He took it as a sign to continue, resuming the same mind-numbing pace as before, her arms wrapping around his torso to hold him tightly to her. When she whimpered, Harry knew she was close and he was right behind her, the feeling of her clenching down on him leaving him hissing into her skin. He wanted them to come together—he loved when they did it and he knew she did too. He loved to watch his come dribble out of her and lick it while she was still sensitive, which he had every intention of doing.

Reaching down he circled her clit with his thumb, dragging his forefinger down to her weepy hole, right above where his cock pushed in an out of her. She squealed at the sensation, fingernails digging into his skin. “Like that?” He asked, rubbing at the thin bit of her skin that stretched around him. “Hmm, baby?”

“More,” she begged him, “I’m so close.”

He decided to test it, eyes on her face to see what she did, and gently pushed his forefinger in next to his cock, adding slightly more inside of her. “Fuck,” he exhaled at the sensation, adding more sensitivity to his cock and the way she bore down on him. “That okay?”

“Yes,” she mewled, bucking into him. “Close.”

He twirled his hand so his finger could brush against her front wall and the way that she clenched around him and threw her head back had him slamming his hips into her, chasing his finish. He wanted to come with her so badly it hurt, he needed to feel her finishing like he needed to breathe. “Come for me, baby,” he said, watching her face. “Want it around me.”

Her eyes flew closed as she bucked once and then came, her fingernails dragging down his back so that they would leave furious red lines, but he didn’t care. In fact, he loved her marks on him. And the feeling brought him tumbling over the edge, body falling into hers with a grunt. He pulled his forefinger from her hole and the sigh that left her mouth made him hope that it wasn’t too much, that she was telling the truth when she said it was okay.

Slowly, he pulled out of her, a whimper leaving her mouth as he left her empty, and he clamored down her body to do exactly what he had come to love: lick his come out of her hole. Fingers on her shaking thighs, he flicked his tongue inside of her, pants falling from her chest as he did it, his name a gasp as he dug out their come from inside of her. Together they were the perfect combination of sweet and salty.

“Too much,” she groaned, pulling at his head. “H—“

He pulled away, brushing up her frame so that he could make sure she was okay. “You okay?”

“Hmm,” she whispered, hands brushing up his arms.

“Words, Y/N, need words.”

“I’m good,” she replied with a smile. “Just sensitive.”

Harry exhaled, dropping his forehead to hers. “Scared me, baby. Thought I hurt you.”

She pecked his lips. “No, you couldn’t.”

He hoped that was true. “Love you,” he murmured into her skin, hoping the words would tattoo themselves on her.

“Love you too, sweaty boy,” she replied, tugging her legs up around his waist. “Can we go for a swim and have some food?”

He kissed her eyebrow and nodded. “I’ll get the food, you get dressed.”

She pulled herself out from under him, leaving him there to lie on the bed, breathless and naked to look at her. He leaned over and slapped a light hand to her butt, a squeak leaving her as she squirmed away from him with a laugh. “And you call me a menace!”

“I couldn’t resist,” he chuckled, following her to the dresser so he could grab his swim trunks. “Too gorgeous.”

“Shut it, you just want more kisses.”

“Lies,” he said, but he got kisses anyways. Y/N could resist kissing him and Harry loved every second of it. He loved every moment with her, even the hard ones.

The water was a crystal clear blue-green and Y/N had never seen anything like it. She’d never been to a place this beautiful, she decided. Her global travel had not been widespread—it’s not like she could go on tour with her dad as a kid, since school always conflicted and her mom never would’ve left her. And her family had preferred to travel to cities, not beaches. But Y/N was different, she craved the feeling on sun on her skin and water lapping at her toes.

And from the look of Harry, he was the same way.

She sat on the beach reading a true crime novel she had picked up at the airport in London on her way home, while Harry frolicked in the water on his own. He was currently attempting to do a handstand, but kept getting knocked over by the waves. They were happy to have their own personal sliver of the beach because it allowed them to enjoy the day without fear of who else was around, something she craved constantly with Harry. Of having him all to herself.

“Come in with me!” Harry called to her, pushing his sunglasses up on top of his head. His bright yellow trunks stuck to his thighs, which had been getting stronger since she had met him and she couldn’t deny she loved it. The feeling of them squeezing her, the strength in them. Harry looked absolutely magnificent in the water, tanning so easily under the sun, having gained a darker shade to his skin in the few days since they’d arrived.

Y/N pulled off her hat and shoved a bookmark at her place in the book, stretching up from her spot. She couldn’t deny him, not looking like a Greek god with his arms outstretched to her. Running towards him, a giggle escaped her mouth and she felt like a little kid again, especially when Harry picked her up and carried her, bridal style, into the water, the cold temperature shocking her skin.

He twirled in a circle, still holding her, jostling her from side to side. “Love this bikini,” he said, plucking at the strap that rested at her neck. “What is the likelihood it could come off, though?”

She whacked his hands away. “Harry, we had sex like two hours ago!”

“And your point is?”

Rolling her eyes, she tweaked his nipple playfully. At the yelp he let out, Y/N knew she had succeeded in distracting him. “I’d like to spend some of our vacation not in bed, if that’s okay with you.”

He hoisted her up and she threw her legs around his waist, him now holding her with both hands on her ass. “Who said anything about bed?”

She scoffed at him. Seriously, where had he gotten these ideas in his head? “Harry, I am not having sex with you in the middle of the sea!”

“We have the beach all to ourselves, Y/N,” he said, nosing at her ear. “And you look delectable.”

Against her better ideas, Y/N decided to indulge him, but only for a bit. She let him kiss her, spread kisses down her neck and suckle at her collarbone. She even allowed him to grind into her bikini bottoms, palming her ass in his gorgeous hands. But when he went for her nipples, she unwound her legs and dropped to the sea bottom, going under the water immediately.

When she rose to the surface, he was pouting at her and she just gave him a sweet kiss on his lips before swimming away from him. Just like she knew he would, he swam after her, calling her name. “That was mean!”

She darted around to look back at him. “Who said anything about playing nice?” She kicked her legs so she could bob up and down, waiting for him to arrive at her position. “Now, Styles, what do you think about making pizza for dinner?”

Harry’s face lit up and she swore, sometimes he was such a child and she downright adored it. Food was the quickest way to make him happy and she used it to her full advantage. “As long as I get to put lots and lots of cheese on it.”

“I promise I won’t tell your trainer.” Reaching out her legs, she pulled him against her, arms finding their way around his neck. “Sorry I won’t fuck you in the sea,” she said, tugging the water from his hair.

“S’okay,” he replied. “You’re the smart one in this relationship. Should trust you, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I know.”

She kissed the tip of his cute button nose. “That’s more like it. Now carry me to the towel, lover. I need more sunscreen. Might even let you put it on.”

He perked up at the idea, fingers sliding under the string of her bikini. “Quite like that idea.” Without a beat, he was running to the beach as best he could, a laughing Y/N held tight in his embrace like a koala. And he wouldn’t have traded it for the world.

The open suitcases had sat in the corner of Harry’s room for four days, him progressively filling them as he found the time. But now it was the night before he left and the suitcases were full except for his toothbrush and phone charger.

Y/N had been staying at his house for the past week, trying to bottle up as much time with him as possible before tour started. Harry loved that she was in his home, her clothes mixed in with his in the dirty clothes hamper, her moisturizer and face wash next to his in his bathroom sink. When they made dinner together, a fresh pesto from some basil she picked up at the farmer’s market on her way home from work, Harry couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like for her to actually live with him full time. Although maybe that was too much to ask her, to give up her space and join him in his, especially when he wasn’t there all the time.

But she had agreed to check in on his house while he was gone, Harry not able to bear the idea of his plants dying while he was gone. She promised to water them as often as he did and start his car that was safely tucked in the garage to make sure it stayed running well, and collect his mail. The idea of her in his house while he was gone brought a smile to his face as he checked the pasta that was boiling on the stove.

“Whatcha smiling about?” Y/N asked, hopping up on the counter, a glass of red wine in her hand.

He made his way over to her, tucking his hips between her knees. “You. In my house while I’m gone.”

“Oh?” She draped her arms over his shoulders, one hand brushing through his curls which had grown out since they’d met, the other holding her wine. “That get you turned on, baby?”

The kiss he brushed to her nose sent a shiver down her spine and Harry grinned at how sensitive she was for him. “Little bit. Also just makes me happy.”

Her expression softened, and she gave him a peck on his lips. “You’re cute.”

“You’re cuter.”

“Impossible.”

With another kiss, he turned away to finish making their dinner. It would be a while before he had the ability to cook again and he had been getting his fill before he left, cooking every meal for him and Y/N. They ate on the couch while watching re-runs of Criminal Minds, which Y/N had gotten him hooked on when they were in Mallorca. She had promised not to watch anymore without him, but he was doubtful that she would be able to keep her promise. After they’d washed up, drying and putting away the dishes so she wouldn’t have to deal with it in the morning, Harry boxed her into the corner of the kitchen and captured her lips with his.

“You should shower,” she whimpered against his lips as he pulled away from a deeply passionate kiss.

He nuzzled against her cheek. “Only if you join.”

“Fine.”

The prospect of her wet, naked body had him flying up the stairs, her chuckling behind him. He undressed her in the ensuite, taking his time as he peeled her work clothes off of her body, kissing her shoulders as he unclipped her bra. The look of desire she shot him when he tugged off his clothes had him desperate for her, but he reminded himself that they’d tried shower sex—and it had resulted with a bumped head and a bruised knee.

So instead, he washed her hair, fingers massaging into her scalp as she hummed a Top 40 single under her breath. With a peck to her back, he turned her around. Her fingers crawled up his chest, eyes following in their path, and Harry sucked in a breath.

“Don’t want you to go,” she whispered, voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

“S’been so nice, bein’ here with you,” he replied, brushing water from her eyes. “You know I’d stay if I could.” She tucked her body into his, arms around his waist and Harry sighed. He hated leaving her.

“What if I just tucked myself in your carry on?” She joked, drawing a laugh from his chest.

“Best surprise ever, I’d say.”

Suddenly, Y/N was dropping to her knees and Harry groaned at the sight of her in front of him. Her fingers wrapped around his length, pumping it in her hand. His head dropped back in a moan when her tongue licked across his tip, taunting him.

“Baby…” He begged, fingers crawling into her hair.

She took him into her mouth and Harry’s jaw went slack. Her mouth was warm and wet, the feeling of her hands cupping his balls throwing him into another dimension of pleasure. Before she’d dropped to her knees he had been sensitive—he was always like this before he left, craving touch and love. Y/N was more than happy to provide, carding her fingers through his hair and returning his embraces in the middle of the kitchen. So the feeling of being so deep inside her mouth, the brushes of his tip against the back of her throat, it had him sputtering groans.

“Not gonna last,” he choked out, trying to tug her back, “and I really wanna fuck you tonight.”

That had Y/N popping off of him and her eyes meeting his. “But I wanna feel you come in my mouth,” she said and Harry shut his eyes, trying to hold it together.

When she said things like that, Harry wondered how he didn’t keep her in bed all day.

“Think you could go again?” She asked, peppering kisses to his cock softly in a way that had him panting above her, staring down at her in disbelief. She was magical. “Think you can come for me now and again later?”

“Yes,” he told her because he would do anything for her.

She gave him a seductive smile, batting her eyelashes at him. “That’s my baby.”

Then she tucked him back in her mouth, bobbing up and down at a faster pace. Harry tried to hold back from bucking into her mouth but it was hard—the combination of the water hitting his skin and the way she ran her hands up and down his thighs, brushing against his balls every once and a while had his finish rising steadily inside of him. When she sucked his balls into his mouth, rubbing her hand up and down his length at the same time, Harry thought he saw stars. “Gonna come,” he told her, resting one hand against the wall of the shower, the other at the back of her head gently.

“Come for me,” she said, moaning around his cock, the vibrations of her throat sending tingles up Harry’s spine.

With one, two, three bobs of her head, Harry was coming, ropes of come falling on her tongue and guttural moans filling his shower. He tried to catch his breath as Y/N pulled off of him, licking her lips so she didn’t lose any come, a successful smile on her face. “You,” he said, “are somethin’ else.”

She giggled and Harry pulled her to her feet, taking her lips in his. Reaching behind her, he turned off the shower, deciding that was enough of that. He wanted her in his bed and to see her come multiple times. Maybe then he’d be able to leave in the morning. But even still, he knew it would be torture shutting the door behind him.

With her legs around his waist, he carried her to his bed, a towel tucked around her frame. She dropped to the bed, bouncing on his duvet cover, a giggle escaping her lips. Harry decided he was going to make her come with his mouth and his fingers, and then he would give her his dick.

He dropped to his knees, pulling her to the edge of the bed so her legs dangled over his shoulders, and licked a long stripe up her slit, a gasp filling his ears. And then he set to work, working her to the brink over and over again before pushing two fingers inside of her, her hissing from the feeling of his cold rings on her hot skin. He had forgotten to take them off before the shower, but he wasn’t going to take them off now—he knew how much she loved the feeling of their weight on her skin and he wanted to give her every possible pleasure tonight.

When she came, his name a prayer and her hands pulling at his hair, Harry was so hard he was rutting into the carpet under his knees. She lifted to her head to look at him and at seeing the desire written on his face, she instantly moved backwards on the bed. He crawled after her, flopping down on the bed next to her.

“Want you on top,” he said, brushing his rings across her tummy.

She swung a knee over his waist. “Yeah? Wanna watch me fuck you?”

“Where did you get this filthy mouth?” He asked her, chuckling.

Y/N blushed, the color to her cheeks warming Harry’s heart. “Like it?”

“Bloody love it,” he replied, tugging her hips forwards over his dick, them both groaning at the feeling. “Bloody love you.”

Her fingers entertwined with his at her hips. “Love you too, baby.” Then, she tucked her knees under for more leverage and lifted up. She withdrew one of her hands from Harry’s and he gripped the flesh at her hip as she rubbed his tip against her slit, hissing at the feeling. But when she dropped down, slowly, savoring every second of it, Harry couldn’t imagine a better sensation than entering her. Watching her features contort with pleasure and relief as she sat down, him fully inside of her and exhaled, adjusting to him.

Then she started to move on him, swiveling her hips in a slow circle that had Harry digging  into her skin, his rings leaving marks. When she pulled up and dropped down, Harry couldn’t help but toss his head back at the feeling, her breathy moans filling his ears. She found a brutal pace, slow and steady on him. This was why Harry wanted her on top, so she could set the pace she wanted, Harry merely trying to hold himself together. It was always so good with her on top, more intense, more torturous. She leaned over, hands on his chest and sped up, Harry choking with the feeling of her squeezing him.

“Y/N,” he exhaled, “Love you.” It was the only phrase he could think of, but it was the only one that mattered.

“Love you more,” she replied softly, swiveling over him.

It was impossible and she knew it, for her to love him more than he loved her. But Harry didn’t have the air in his lungs to reply when she slammed down into his hips. “Doin’ so good,” he praised, hands squeezing her breasts, her keening from his touch.

“Help me,” she whispered, head bobbing down.

“Tired?”

She nodded and Harry tucked his heels against the duvet, gaining leverage so he could push into her. And when he did, her upper body tumbled onto his chest, gripping his shoulders as he drove deep inside of her. She tried to keep up, swiveling her hips so he brushed that delicate spot inside of her, but they were both getting desperate. Moans mixed with moans as they kissed, teeth knocking. He held her close, wanting to never let her go.

“Close,” she whimpered against his lips. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” he hissed when she clamped down on him, her own orgasm threatening to tumble over them. “Want to come with you.”

“Me too.” She lifted up onto her elbows so she could watch him as they found their release, and Harry took the opportunity to stare directly into her beautiful eyes. “Love you,” she uttered with a gasp. They’d told each other so many times today and Harry loved heard it every time.

“Love you, baby,” he said, brushing her still drying hair behind her ear. “Gonna come?”

She nodded her head and Harry pulled her lips to his. Suddenly she was bearing down on him, back arching and gasping into his mouth. The feeling of her walls constricting had Harry bucking into her, chasing his own release. Ropes of come stuttered into her walls and he groaned when her lips kissed across his sweaty skin. He held her body close as they sighed, but didn’t let her move.

“Don’t want to move,” he said into her hair.

“Then don’t.”

“But—“ His dick was still inside her he went to finish, but Y/N shook her head.

“Like it,” she said, flushed cheeks and blown out pupils finding his.

“And you’re only telling me this now why?” He muttered and Y/N laughed, the sound filling the quiet room. “Would’ve been doing this ages earlier.”

“Well, now you know,” she murmured, a kiss to his neck.

So they laid there, hands on each other’s skin, just basking in the feeling of being the closest they could. Harry tried to hold onto the feeling, memorize the way her body felt against his, how her shallow breaths sounded in his ears, how her skin tasted under his lips. It would be a long few months until he saw her again, and he didn’t want to forget this.

Y/N woke up to kisses to her hairline, it still dark out.

“I’m leavin’, baby,” he whispered. “Wanted to say bye.”

Y/N forced her eyes open and found Harry’s in the dark of their room. He’d gotten ready in the dark, she realized, not wanting to wake her up. “I love you,” she said, tugging his head down for a kiss. “Text me when you land, okay?”

He pressed another kiss to her lips and pulled away. “Promise. I love you more.”

Y/N watched as he picked up his suitcases and wheeled them out the door, shutting it behind him with a lingering glance to her. She wondered if he could see the tears on her cheeks and if he had the same on his.

The days passed slowly at first. Y/N threw herself into her work, into her friends. She went to visit her dad, making him dinner and checking in on how his work was going. It made it easier, having people to fill the parts of her day that Harry usually occupied. And he called her every night like clockwork, before or after the show depending no the time zone he was in, listening intently to her describe her day and excitedly telling her about his. They texted constantly, photos of their days and commentary of their thoughts running easily between them.

She adjusted, as hard as it was, to his absence. It became almost nice to have the time to herself. She watched shows she’d been meaning to see that Harry would’ve fallen asleep during—not that she minded, it just wasn’t as fun—and caught up on her reading. Hanna and Jamie took her out on the town and she left Harry drunk voicemails that had him laughing in the morning when he called her to make sure she was okay.

She even made the drive up to her mom’s in San Francisco, finally not having something to keep her from going. It was the first time in months and she loved having her mom flit about making sure she was allright. They went out on the water on a boat, visited art museums, went shopping. Y/N let her mom spend too much money on her since it made her happy, made her feel like she was taking care of her little girl. When her mom asked about Harry, Y/N gushed without meaning to, pulling up photos of their time together, and her mom beamed. She asked when she was going to meet him, and Y/N promised her soon. The holidays, she told her. Harry was planning to split them between LA and England, and they’d make the drive up to San Francisco so her two favorite people could finally meet in person.

But as much as it was nice having the time to herself, Y/N missed him like crazy. It was the small things that reminded her of him, like when she found a shirt of his mixed in with hers in the wash, or a bottle of his favorite beer tucked in the back of her fridge. It was when she went to check up on his house and ended up sleeping over, wrapped up in his clothes that still smelled like him. She even stole his extra bottle of cologne that sat on his dresser and took it home, spraying it sometimes when she missed the way he smelled. Sometimes when she saw couples together, it made her ache for him, for just the feeling of his hand in hers, leaning down to whisper something in her ear, like how he really wanted a smoothie, or had she seen this meme on Instagram?

She had to admit, she was nervous at first, about him being away. After the Dunkirk press tour they had had a long conversation, though, and made plans. When they spoke this time around, they were honest with how they felt. Harry told her in advance if he wouldn’t be able to call and it didn’t bother her. It was better than before, and it made her proud to have a relationship that was staying strong, despite the distance and the time.

On a Saturday night in mid October, she unlocked the door to Harry’s house, toeing off her shoes and pressing the code into the security system. The air was dry, having no one been there since she was last in the house, but it still felt like Harry. Photos of the two of them on the hall table, his extra set of keys to the car in the ceramic dish she had made when he took her to a pottery class back in April.

She hooked her phone up to Harry’s speaker system and turned on their playlist, the one they’d curated over the ten months of their relationship, and went about watering his plants. Usually she was a shit plant mom, but since it was an excuse to go to Harry’s, she was actually doing really well. Then she went outside and cleaned the leaves from his pool and tidied up the yard, before heading back inside.

Her phone buzzed, Harry’s personal vibration setting making her smile. Can I call you after the show? Want to have a long chat tonight. Miss you.

Of course, she replied. Miss you more!

He sent her a cute selfie of his suit for the night and she sent him a selfie of her, cuddled up on his couch with a big smile and a glass of wine she stole from his cabinets.

That my couch?

It is!

Give it a hug for me.

She giggled to herself at his silliness, before replying, Done.

After Harry went on stage, she scrolled through her Twitter, something she loved to do when she stayed up to talk to him after the show. She’d made a Twitter that was essentially a fan account using none of her personal information, and so far she was flying under the radar. She had followed all of these Harry fan accounts and she used it only to scroll through and see photos of him from tour nights. Tonight, he was beaming on stage and running around, dancing his little butt off and being an overall menace. Secretly, she hoped it was because of the prospect of talking to her after.

Her clock rolled over to 11, and she untangled herself from the blanket and padded up the stairs to Harry’s room. She was probably going to end up staying the night, so she might as well get comfortable, she told herself. After taking out her contacts, she washed off her makeup with his extra face wash and used his moisturizer, studying his five-step skin care routine as she always did, wondering how she had found a man who loved his skin so much. She was lucky—it meant it was always soft under her touch. Opening his drawers, she pulled out a white t-shirt of his and a pair of his boxers that would fit her hips, and pulled on his clothes. Unable to stop herself, her nose darted into the collar of the shirt, inhaling the scent of him on his clothes. His cologne and his laundry soap, the smell that made up Harry to her.

She crawled into his bed, letting his high thread count sheets engulf her body. They were cold from not having anyone in them recently, and she suddenly desperately missed the feeling of his body next to hers when she slept. Tears pricked her eyes and she shoved her head into his pillow, inhaling him. She missed him with every bone in her body and without anyone there to hear, she let the sobs overtake her, tears painting the sheets wet.

Suddenly, her phone rang, and she realized it was him, calling her to check-in. He was probably back at the hotel for the night, freshly showered and also tucked up in bed with a snack from room service. Her favorite Harry to talk to.

“Hiya,” she said, trying to disguise the rough sound of her throat.

“You cryin’?” He asked, not missing a beat. She choked on a sob, and Harry’s sigh filled her ear. “Oh sweet girl,” he murmured, “what is it?”

“Miss you.” She rubbed a hand over her eyes, trying to stop the tears. “In your bed and I just really, really miss you.”

Then she heard the tell-tale sound of his choke and she knew he was crying too. Somehow, his crying only made her cry harder, and they were suddenly both sobbing on the phone to each other, miles and miles away. They stayed like that until their breathing evened and the tears slowed, Y/N rolling over so she could dry her eyes.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Didn’t mean to make you sad.”

“It’s okay,” he told her, and she knew he meant it. “Glad you did. Made you feel closer, somehow.”

She understood. Sharing such a raw emotion did make him feel closer to her. She tugged his extra pillow—why did he have so many pillows?—into her chest. “How was the show?”

“Good,” he replied. “The crowd was amazing.”

“You say that every night,” she said, and he chuckled because she was right. “You looked amazing up there.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I, uh, saw some pictures on Twitter,” she explained carefully. Y/N hadn’t told him about the fan account yet and she just realized that she had exposed herself. He was going to tease her for it, she just knew it, but it made her happy to see him up there, the fans who adored him.

“Oh?”

“You’re going to laugh at me,” she warned.

“Am not.”

She sighed. “I made a fan account a month ago,” she explained, “and I check it every once and a while to see videos and pictures of you up on stage.”

He was quiet and Y/N had no idea what that meant. “You serious?” He finally asked her, voice soft in her ear.

“Yeah.”

“Baby,” he mumbled, “that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

“No,” he told her, “it’s only weirder that I’m not sending you enough photos of myself to keep you entertained. Gonna fix that.”

She couldn’t help but wonder what kind of photos he meant by that. “Your suit looked pretty tonight,” she told him tentatively. “Liked the pattern.”

“That all you liked?”

They were crossing into dangerous territory. Territory that had her getting wetter by the second. “H…”

“Want to hear you say it,” he murmured.

She exhaled. “Liked how your ass looked in those pants,” she finally said, tripping over her words.

Harry chuckled and Y/N rolled her eyes, his desire for praise taking over. “What are you wearin’, baby?”

“Your clothes.”

He let out a sharp exhale and Y/N just giggled. She knew what it did to him when she wore his clothes from afar. “Which ones?”

“Want a picture?”

“Fuck yes,” he responded, voice heavy with desire.

She crawled out of his bed and switched on his bedside light, walking over to the floor length mirror at the corner of the room. Pulling her hair over one of her shoulders, she took a quick photo, trying not to overanalyze it before she sent it to Harry.

“Baby,” he mumbled, and she knew he had received it. “My clothes look better on you.”

“I know,” she said, and he chuckled. “What are you wearing?”

“Nothing.”

Y/N choked. “Stop it.”

“I’m serious.”

“I hate you.”

“Wet, are ya?”

She groaned. Of course she was. The concept of Harry lying naked in bed, talking to her on the phone? It had the ability to get her wet in seconds. “Yes.”

“Can I make you come, baby?”

His question lit fires in Y/N’s belly, the prospect of him bringing her to her release over the phone a tantalizing idea. “Please.”

Suddenly, a FaceTime request lit up her screen. Harry. She answered and his face filled her screen, a light scruff on his jaw and his hair messy. He was in fact shirtless, and the sight of his bare skin made her desperate for him. “Hi you,” he said with a smile.

“Hi.”

“Go lie down for me,” he said softly, and Y/N followed his directions, keeping her phone facing her face as she walked.

She laid down on his bedspread, head resting on his pillow, and lifted the phone above her.

“Now take off my clothes.”

He meant the clothes of his that she was wearing, the clothes that made her skin smell like him. Placing the phone on the duvet, Y/N lifted his shirt over her head, smiling when Harry inhaled at the sight of her bare breasts. They hadn’t done this yet—phone sex over FaceTime. It was an exciting new development, one Y/N had thought of but hadn’t had the courage to request. When she slid off his boxers, she dangled them in front of the camera and his reaction, a guttural moan, had her grinning.

“Tease,” he said. “Now can you prop me up so I can watch you?”

She turned, trying to find a place to lean him up against. She settled on nestling the phone in a combination of blankets and pillows keeping the phone facing her. “That good?”

“Perfect,” he replied. He was sitting up against the headboard of his bed, leaving Y/N with a view of his chest and face—the perfect view. “Now I want you to wet your fingers,” he said, hissing as she followed his instructions, rolling her tongue around her index and forefingers to taunt him, “and play with yourself with them.”

Y/N did as he asked, but decided to mess with him. On her way to her center, she grabbed at her breasts, nipples peaking and Harry muttering Fuck me under his breath. Her fingers danced across her belly, and then when she finally touched her clit she moaned. Building up a rhythm, she imagined it was Harry’s fingers, although hers didn’t quite do him justice.

“Thinking of me, baby?” He asked, voice echoing in his room. “Thinking of my fingers, holding your thighs down, pressing you into the mattress? Nipping at your skin, making you mine?”

She keened at the thought. “Yes,” she whimpered, eyes trained on him, his wet lips on her phone screen.

“Are you wet?” She nodded and he smiled at her. “Then I want you to dip one finger inside,” he said slowly, “and curl it.”

Following his directions, she slid one finger inside, a breathless moan escaping her chest at the feeling. She nudged at the front of her walls, the spongy spot making her legs shake.

“Add the other.” She did as he said, adding the other, walls stretching to accommodate them. It wasn’t anything like Harry but it was something, and she needed it like she needed him—with everything in her. “Now thrust them in and out, hmm? Imagine it’s me,” he said, voice rough and low. “Imagine it’s me, fucking you.”

She tipped her head back, eyes shutting at the prospect, and thrust her fingers in and out, trying to find a momentum that gave her what she needed. But it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t Harry. “More,” she whimpered.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, breathless and in awe of her. “What do you need? Need me to tell you that I’m touching myself to you? Fucking my hand and wishing it was you?” That had her moaning his name, back arching up off the bed. “That’s it,” he murmured. “I’m close, what about you?”

She nodded, and then realizing he might not be able to see in the low light, confirmed his request.

“Faster,” he told her, voice firm. “Faster for me. Want to see you come in my bed.”

That’s all it took for her. Her back arched again, legs taut, toes curling into the duvet cover, his name a chorus in her throat. He sputtered, exhaling her name, and she knew he had come all over his chest, a sight she adored. “Show me,” she whispered.

“F—fuck,” he stuttered, before panning down the phone to show her the ropes of come on his chest. “All yours, baby.”

She smiled and then reached over to grab the phone. She lifted her fingers, wet with her juices, and did what she knew would make him groan—she twirled her tongue around them, sucking her come from her fingers.

He let out a guttural groan. “Torturin’ me,” he told her.

“Wish you were here,” she said, sending him a mischievous smile.

“Me too, baby.” He leaned back against the headboard and smile at her. “Now, tell me about your day.”

She returned his smile and tugged the covers over her naked body, curling up with Harry on her phone screen. They talked for two hours, until both of their eyes were drooping and it was time for sleep. Hanging up was difficult, but when she closed her eyes, she dreamed of him. Only a few more weeks, she reminded herself, until he was back home to her.

TAGLIST:

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NEXT CHAPTER COMING JULY 15TH @ NOON CST

[nineteenninety-six]

Arguments of Concern - Part Three

The love I got on ‘escapism’ was so great, thank you so much <3

I also don’t remember much of the beach scene so ignore inaccuracies pls lol

WORD COUNT: 2105

[PART ONE] [PART TWO]

Adam was fast asleep on (Y/N)’s lap as Tommy drove them towards Margate. He was excited when he was told that he was going on a trip to the beach and spent the first couple of hours excitedly chatting and asking his parents a hundred questions before he became bored and tired, allowing his parents to spend the remaining hour of the journey to talk without the chance of having little ears overhearing anything that was said.

Whilst their relationship had slightly improved compared to before, (Y/N) was still bitter at Tommy for getting involved with Mosley and subsequently dragging them into the mess too. Adam was her number one priority and despite how much she hated the idea of it, she would take him and leave Tommy if she needed to. Tommy was the love of her life and has provided her with everything she could ever need but slowly the bad was overtaking the good and she didn’t think she could just watch from the sidelines anymore.

Tommy’s hand on her thigh brought her out of her thoughts,

“You okay?”

“Hmm, just thinking about this mysterious friend of yours” (Y/N) teased, pulling his hand off her thigh before lacing their fingers together.

Tommy brought their conjoined hands up and pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, “Don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“The surprise...” (Y/N) scoffed, “Don’t tell me it’s one of your old flings or girlfriends?”

Tommy snorted a laugh, “If I did that, I wouldn’t have to worry about Mosley killing me since I know you’d kill me before he’d even get a chance.”

(Y/N) made a vague noise of distress before she pulled her hand free of his and whacked him on the arm,

“Don’t joke about dying” She scolded him.

“ ‘m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, I’m not.” Tommy threw her a smirk and wink causing her to giggle.

If (Y/N) tried her hardest briefly forget about the actual reason why they were going to Margate, she could pretend that they were just taking a small holiday as a family.

“When all this is over, we’ll go away somewhere. You, me and Adam. Just the three of us eh?” Tommy spoke up after a few moments, glancing at her.

“Hmm, we can go to Wales or Ireland.”

Tommy smiled at her, “We could stay in a caravan. Adam would enjoy it.”

(Y/N) bit her lip before she spoke again, slightly hesitating, “When this is done...you’ll take a step back right? From the more dangerous stuff?”

Tommy sighed “(Y/N)...”

(Y/N) also sighed, “I’m not being unreasonable Tommy, I’m not telling to completely stop with the illegal side of the business. All I’m asking is to not get involved in dangerous situations with dangerous people like you have nothing to lose, because you do Tommy. You have us.”

“We’ll talk more about it when everything is over.”

(Y/N) simply nodded, not wanting to fight and wake Adam.

They had arrived at Margate now, driving right by the coast, no doubt close to their final destination.

“It’s gorgeous.” (Y/N) gasped as she peered out of the window, gazing at the beach and at the people making the most of the end of the summer heat before autumn fully settled in. The scent of the salty air and the sound of the seagulls made (Y/N) smile, she found the place somewhat calming.

Five minutes later and they were pulling into the drive of a mansion and even though the hedges were preventing her view, (Y/N) knew they were still close to the seafront as she could still hear the crashing of the waves and the faint sound of people.

Tommy got out of the car first and made his way over to her side of the car and opened the door for her. (Y/N) missed the figure step out of the mansion and make his way down the stairs that were in front of the mansion as she tried to step out of the car with Adam in her arms.

“Here lemme take him.” Tommy took Adam in his arms, the young boy still fast asleep. As grew older, he also grew heavier meaning that (Y/N) couldn’t hold him for long periods of time, making her miss the days where he was tiny and never wanted to leave her arms.

“Mrs Shelby! It’s wonda-ful to see ya lovely face again, shame you brought ya husband along with you though.”

(Y/N) whipped around to where the voice came from, instantly recognising it. She couldn’t believe her eyes and when she looked back at Tommy to make sure that she wasn’t hallucinating, she received a nod that told her that he was real.

“Alfie? Jesus Christ…” (Y/N) murmured as she made her way over to him.

Her eyes caught on the large scar on his face, “What happened to you? Tommy only told me you had died.”

“Oh, this thing ‘ere?” Alfie pointed at his scar, “Yea well, you can blame your husband for tha’”

“You asked me to kill you, Alfie.” Tommy sounded like he’d had this conversation many times before.

“You what?!”

“In my defence luv, I did think I was going to die anyway.”

“I...uh..” (Y/N) was speechless.

“I’ll explain  when we get inside.” Tommy told her as he moved to stand next to her.

Alfie’s eyes catch on Adam who was clinging on to his father in his sleep, “If it isn’t little Tommy Jr, he’s grown a lot hasn’t he?”

Alfie had only met Adam once when he had visited Tommy at the house, (Y/N) had just come home from a walk with a then two-year old Adam when Adam had run into Tommy office to say hello to his father. Alfie had immediately taken note of how similar the father and son looked and the started to call Adam, ‘Tommy Jr’. (Y/N) was pretty sure that he had only done it to annoy Tommy, which it did- not that Alfie would ever find out.

“I think we need to talk, don’t we? Let’s head inside yeah” Alfie led them into their house and sent his maid off the make them some tea.

Tommy placed Adam on the couch so that he was laying down before taking a seat next to him and (Y/N) sat on Tommy’s other side so that he was in the middle.

“Right, so what happened?” (Y/N) asked as she shrugged off her coat.

Alfie a slightly guilty expression on his face but Tommy began talking before she could question him.

“Remember the boxing match a few years ago?” Tommy asked his wife

(Y/N) sat up slightly, “When you were dealing with the Italians? Yeah, why?”

“Alfie had betrayed us-- me and sent Changretta’s men undercover as his to kill me, except they attacked Arthur instead.”

(Y/N) stared at Alfie, gobsmacked, “I..why would you do that? Actually, why am I surprised, you’ve betrayed us before!”

Alfie just winced and kept silent.

“And so when I went to confront him, he tells me that he’s suffering from skin cancer but he wanted to go out his own way--”

“He wanted you to kill him?” (Y/N) caught on.

“I didn’t wan’ to die because of fuckin’ cancer. The doctor said that I most likely got it from the trenches in the war and that’s not how I wanted to die. He also said that it would be painful and long an’ that’s no way for a gangster to go out is it?” There was both pain and anger in Alfie’s voice.

“So you betrayed Tommy because you knew that he would kill you?”

Alfie nodded, “(Y/N)...I wanted it to be quick and painless. I didn’t want to die from cancer.”

“Oh, Alfie.” (Y/N)’s heart hurt for him.

“I didn’t want to shoot him at first but then he shot at me so I shot at him back.”

“You got shot?! You told me you were dealing with Arthur after he had one of his episodes.”

“If I told you I got shot, you would have killed me.” Tommy smiled at his wife.

“You’re absolutely right.”

Whines and grunts came from Adam as he slowly woke up, his body shuffling against Alfie’s couch. (Y/N) couldn’t help but laugh as he sat up, his face was puffy and his hair was a mess, there was also a frown marring his face, clearly not appreciating the fact that he had been woken up.

“Mama?” He croaked as he crawled over Tommy and into her arms.

“Hello poppet, did you have a nice nap?” (Y/N) ran her fingers through his hair, trying to tame it.

“Uh-huh, I had a dream that there was a big lion but dada saved us before it could eat us!”

“Dada saved us? How lucky are we huh” (Y/N) pressed a kiss to his forehead

“Here, drink this Adam” Tommy passed Adam a glass of water that he easily gulped down.

Feeling refreshed and no longer tired, Adam twisted on (Y/N)’s lap but froze at the sight of Alfie sat opposite them.

“Hello there, I’m Alfie Solomons.” Alfie lent forward and held his hand out.

Adam silently stared before leaning forward and shaking his hand “I’m Adam Shelby.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr Shelby.”

Adam paused before he spoke again, “What happened to your face?”

“Adam!” (Y/N) hissed but she didn’t know why she was surprised, he was a kid and kids were curious.

“Nahh it’s orright, he’s fine. I had an accident and hurt myself”

“Did it hurt?”

“For a bit, yeah, but I’m fine now”

“Okay!” That seemed to satisfy Adam who no longer seemed interested anymore.

Tommy shifted as he pulled his watch out of his pocket and sighed when he checked the time, “I have to go.”

“We’ve just got here.” (Y/N) whispered, upset.

“Do you like ships Adam?” (Y/N) smiled at Alfie, knowing that his plan was to distract Adam so that she could talk to Tommy.

“I don’t think he’s ever seen one.” (Y/N) laughed.

“If we’re lucky we can see one from the balcony, wanna see if can see any?”

Adam looked up to his parents for permission, excited at the prospect at seeing ships. (Y/N) and Tommy nodded and he eagerly jumped up off of (Y/N)’s lap and allowed Alfie to take him to the balcony.

“Can you not stay any longer?” (Y/N) asked her husband.

“I wish I could. You have no idea how much I want to stay with you and Adam and hide from everything back home.” Tommy pressed his head against hers and wiped away the tears that slowly began to fall down her cheeks.

“You must come back to me. You must come back to us because I don’t know how I survive if you’re dead.” (Y/N) sobbed.

“I will come back to you but if something does happen then you must promise to do what we planned yeah? You take Adam and you go.”

“Thomas!”

“Promise me (Y/N)” Tommy made sure she was looking at him in the eye as he made her promise.

“I promise. I promise you, Tommy. If something happens, I’ll take Adam and go.”

“Good.” Tommy pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too. I love you so much, Tommy.” (Y/N) kissed him back and they continued kissing before Tommy pulled away and stepped back.

“Adam, come say bye to dada!” (Y/N) called out so that Adam could hear her from the balcony.

“Bye? Why?” Adam wondered in with Alfie’s binoculars in his hands.

Tommy knelt down in front of him, “Dada has to go back home for a bit but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Adam frowned but nevertheless nodded, “Can we see the ships together when you come back?”

“Of course. We’ll go to the beach as well okay?”

Adam grinned excitedly and hugged Tommy, “Okay. See you soon! Love you!”

Tommy tightly wrapped his arms around Adam and kissed the side of his head. “Love you too”

Alfie took Adam back outside while (Y/N) followed Tommy to the car to say one more goodbye.

“Come back to me okay?”

“I will. I love you.” Tommy gave her one last kiss before getting into the car.

“I love you too.” (Y/N) said before Tommy drove away.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

[checkmate] [3]

Summary: After ten years of fighting and surviving their way through the apocalypse in search of their son, Hugo and Isabel Sulieman finally find Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youth and are ready to reunite with Louis.

Notes: After many hours of writing and rewriting this story, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s going to be way longer than I anticipated [what else is new]. I want to keep the all chapters around the same length [about 5k] so there’s a lot of splitting being done. I think it’s safe to say that there will be more than four parts to this like I had originally planned. 

Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy it! Thank you for reading and for all the positive feedback!

As I’ve said before, this is a part of the contest prize story for @bluebutterfly1​!

Read on AO3

---

Through the crack of the walker’s skull, blood oozes dark, dripping down the handle of the hatchet and onto his hand. Cold, clotted, and disgusting. 

Hugo pushes the dead walker down with a huff just as Isabel finishes off the last one a few steps away. 

They’re repulsive, the walkers. Even now, Hugo can’t over their decaying stench and peeling flesh. These walkers, in particular, are more disgusting- fresher walkers usually are. 

Older walkers- years and years older- are slower, nothing but leathery skin and bone, weak from muscle deterioration and perhaps even hunger. 

Newer walkers are what scare Hugo. Not only are the remains of a humane appearance more present, but they’re stronger, quicker, hungrier.  

Killing them is such a normal thing now, he thinks. It’s easier when he considers it as a prevention of more chaos with every walker he kills. One less fresh walker. One less to wander around and devour innocent, unsuspecting survivors. There’s been too much of that. 

“All clear,” Isabel says, wiping her knife off on the dirty rag attached to her belt. “Can we make this quick?” 

Up close on the pier, the boat is an absolute wreck. Stray pieces of wood jut out of the water, metal stuck swaying with the waves, knocking into the boat. From what he can see, there isn’t a safe enough way for him to climb inside. 

“Yep, it’s terrible. A real mess,” Isabel says. “Worst boat I’ve ever stood before in my life.”

Hugo raises a brow, elbowing her with a smirk. 

“Worse than The Nauti Buoy?”

Isabel wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. I hated that damn thing.”

The Nauti Buoy was the clever name of his brother’s boat, one Stephen prided himself on, even though he stole the name from another boat he came across in his travels to pass off as his own. 

Hugo used to say, “You know how people end up looking like their animals? Well, Stephen looks like his boat.”

Gaudy decor inside and out, painted a terrible antique gold color, much bigger than necessary. 

Well, he thought so at the time. After Stephen’s second divorce, he ended up living in the damn thing. Oh, how proud their mother was. At least he was able to keep his prized watch collection safe and secure, because that’s all that really mattered. 

Hugo only ever brought his family onto that boat once. Isabel grew so sick an hour in that they had to turn the damn thing around and head back to shore. 

Not Louis, though. 

Louis loved being on that boat. Not once did he ever get sick, except Hugo had to warn him about leaning too far over the railing to get a better look at the dolphins he spotted. Nearly fell overboard and gave Hugo a heart attack. 

Seeing Louis’ glowing face as he marveled at the waves and salty air was what inspired Hugo to invest in a boat of his own. 

Louis named it Gus. 

Didn’t really have a reason, he just thought the boat looked like a Gus. 

Hugo smiles. 

“It wasn’t that bad, just ugly,” he says. “What do you think happened?.” 

“I told you, someone blew it to shit,” Isabel says. “What exactly are you expecting to find?”

“Something useful,” Hugo kneels down, pressing a hand against the boat to steady himself as he leans in through a gaping hole. “Clothes, weapons, maybe food.”

“Hey, careful-”

“Look, through there? I can see a couple of crates floating inside. Worth checking out. Here, why don't you go check along the shore, I’ll see if I can grab one.”

“How about I stay right here and help you? I know you’re gonna fall in and I’ll have to fish you out.” 

“I’m not gonna fall in,” Hugo rolls his eyes. “Have some faith in me.”

“It’s not that I don’t have faith in you, Hugh,” Isabel frowns. “I’d just rather prevent a disaster than try and fix one. Who knows what’s lurking around in these waters.”

“What, you think a shark’s going to gobble me up?”

“No, a walker,” Isabel kneels down beside him. “They can move under there much better than we can, and they don’t gotta breathe. If this ship crashed, odds are there were people on it who were thrown into the water. Hence, walkers.”

Well, damn, he hadn’t thought of that. Leaning over the edge, Hugo squints. The water’s pretty mucky, so he can’t tell how deep it is or what the bottom holds. 

“I could out swim a walker, but to put your mind at ease-,” Isabel scoffs “-I’ll look around here some more and see if I can find something to pull the crates closer while you go search the shore, then we can pull the crates out together.” 

“Y’know there’s probably nothing in them but useless, sodden supplies, right?” Isabel says, “I mean, I doubt this was some sort of battleship that carried weapons and first aid. Hell, it probably carried toy cars or something.”

“Toy cars?” Hugo laughs. “If that’s the case, then your little friend won’t need to ride around in your bag anymore. He can drive right beside us.”

“You’re not funny.”

“No?” Hugo smirks. “I’m a little funny, c’mon. Geoff driving around in a little car? Honking at the squirrels? Flippin’ me the bird every chance he gets? Hilarious.” 

With an exasperated shake of her head, Isabel turns on her heels towards the shoreline, saying, “Fine, I’ll walk around. Don’t touch those crates until I get back because I swear if you fall in-”

“I’m not going to fall in,” Hugo calls after her. “I’m as coordinated as the most athletic breed of... cat!” Cats are coordinated, right? 

He wouldn’t know, he never owned one. 

He wishes he owned a cat, but Louis insisted on a damn turtle. 

Isabel snorts a chuckle. “Yeah, okay!” 

“You doubt me?”

“I doubt you.”

“Madam, now you’ve wounded me!” 

“You’ll live.”

“Hey, while you’re over there, let Geoff go for a swim, too! He hasn’t done that in a while. He can scout for water walkers.” 

That earns him Isabel’s lovely middle finger. He presses a hand against his chest, pushing his lip out in a pretend pout. 

“Once again, she chooses the turtle over me.”

That makes Isabel laugh, shaking her head and giving a dismissive wave.  “We meet back in five!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Hugo watches her briefly, taking in the sight of her walking along the shore, stepping over pieces of broken wood and rocks. Her loose top flutters with the rustling wind against the curve of her waist and a strange tingle of emotion cause him to pause.

A lifetime ago, Hugo and Isabel walked along a beach. 

Much cleaner than this one with a much prettier sight. Along the shores of Makena Beach, they walked together barefoot. Isabel wore a dress she bought in one of the shops, one that fluttered in the wind the same exact way her shirt does now. 

She was young, her hair long, curls big and windblown.

Pregnant, about seven weeks along.

“Shit,” Hugo mumbles. 

He wonders what the state of Hawaii is, if their walker population is great or not. 

Not that it matters. 

There’s no way he’ll make it to those shores ever again, much less walk along them with Isabel and Louis. 

He always thought about bringing Louis back there, too. 

After he graduated high school, Hugo wanted to bring him to look at the colleges. He’d get into the best school they had to offer, of course, because Louis was a straight A student- when properly motivated- and there he’d get his degree while studying the culture and history of Hawaii and its people, land a damn good job and make a name for himself. 

He can just see his boy now. Tall and handsome with his mother’s eyes and a beautiful smile... happy and satisfied with his life. 

Louis would fall in love with a pretty girl, propose to her, and have a gorgeous wedding on the beach. They’d have a handful of kids, too. Hugo would be more than happy to become a grandfather. 

A grandfather... babysitting Louis’ children while he and his lovely wife went out on date nights...

Hugo rubs his eyes along the sleeve of his shirt, sighing. 

Nostalgic for what never was, he supposes. 

They need to find that school, Hugo thinks. No matter what, once they’re done here- after they’ve scavenged some useful supplies- they’ll head back to the train station to look for a map. 

They couldn't find one earlier, but maybe they didn’t look hard enough. They only really looked around to make sure it wasn’t someone else’s home, then headed back this way to check out the wreckage Hugo spotted. 

They have to be close, closer than they’ve ever been. From the faintest part of his memory, he remembers the road being long and yet hard to find. He had to pay attention to the road signs, but his concentration was more than unfocused with Louis silently fuming in the backseat. 

“You’re only staying for a year, or until we can... until we can sort some things out.”

“...”

“You’ll have a dorm with a roommate. Mr. Davidson told me he’s a good kid, he just... fell down a wrong path, so I don’t want to get any calls about you mistreating him.”

“...”

“This isn’t going to be like your other school. You will be respectful to your roommate, your classmates, and your teachers. No excuses, no exceptions. Understand?”

“...”

“Louis, answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“...”

Hugo glances back at the boat. 

He hopes there’s something to gain from doing this, but at the very least, he got to see an old-timey riverboat like this up close. Little things..

Hugo pays another look to Isabel as she inspects a piece of soggy wood before pushing away from the boat to move along the pier. Over the edge, the corner of what looks to be a crate sticks up. Dropping down to his knees with a slight wince- damn leg!- Hugo rolls up his sleeves, sinking his hands in the chilled water. 

Thoughts of the cool waves crashing against the shores of Makena Beach haunt him, memories of swimming and laughing and kissing-

“Shit,”  Hugo finds a good grip on the crate and yanks. “Knock it off-”

It barely budges, caught on something. 

He tries again, grunting at the horrible pull in his back. A shock jolts through his bad leg, making him bite the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from yelping. Letting go, he adjusts his position.

“There’s nothing over here!” Isabel calls. “Just garbage!”

With a better, firmer grip, Hugo pulls. The crate loosens, lifting up out of the water. 

“Damn it…” Hugo gives an exasperated sigh. 

It’s empty and broken, it’s bottom missing. Whatever goods filled it are nowhere to be found. 

“Damn, damn, damn,” he mutters, standing to rub his dripping hands along his pants, kicking the useless crate back into the water. “Double damn.” 

He opens his mouth to shout out a complain, but sees Isabel down closer to the water, her open bag beside her. Grinning to herself, she holds onto Geoff as he moves through the water. 

Hugo thinks to make a joke both to tease her and make himself feel better about his lack of findings, but decides against it. Instead, he soaks in the sight of her content smile. 

Moving along the pier, he calls out, “Hey, got a question for you!”

“No!” 

Hugo laughs.

“You ever think about growing your hair out again?”

Isabel’s face scrunches up in a way that tells Hugo that’s a dumb question, nearly losing her grip on Geoff. 

“You seriously asking me that?” she shakes her head. “Hair like that is nothing but a death trap! Remember back in Peach Creek? Damn walker nearly took a chunk out of my neck! Not only that, but it got its nasty fingers all stuck in it and there was skin and puss and-ugh!”

“Oh shit, that’s right,” Hugo grunts, bending back down along the hardwood to fish out a piece of clothing- a sleeve of a denim jacket. “That was a nice place.”

A nice place, indeed, but one of many that almost killed them.

One of the worst moments in their lives happened while staying with the group at the Peach Creek Clinic. 

The people there were sympathetic to their dire situation. After losing their vehicle to a bunch of selfish assholes, barely having anything to their names aside from pictures of Louis and his clothes, the group took them in. 

It seemed secure at the time, with a small group and plenty of medical supplies. Scarce food, though. Hugo and Isabel might’ve stayed there longer but anxiousness about getting to West Virginia sent them back on the road after another incident with walkers breaking in. 

Half the group perished during that attack.  They’re both lucky Hugo was there to take care of the walker before it got to her, but he couldn’t stop it from getting it’s fingers stuck and tangled in Isabel’s curls. 

She was hysterical, tears dripping down her bruised cheeks as Hugo cut out chunks of hair to get the damn hand out. Bodies of their fallen friends surrounded them, and he thought they both might pass out.

When he tried to pick out the remaining pieces of rotten flesh and bone all while attempting to comfort her, Isabel insisted that they just cut it all off. 

One of the survivors- shit, what was her name? Yolanda, maybe? Rhonda?- did a nice, clean shave of her head. Short and close to her scalp, nothing for anyone to grab. 

They left the next morning. The survivors at the clinic were understanding and kind enough to send them with a bag of medical supplies they were able to spare, and fish food for Geoff, since all the fish within the lobby tank was no longer around. 

Through the shallow water closer to shore, the falling sunlight gleams off of something stuck in the sand. 

“Ah-ha!” Hugo grins, ignoring the pain in his knee as he shifts into a better position. Rolling up his sleeve, he reaches in to dig through the mushy sand. His thumb brushes something firm. 

“Why?” Isabel asks, kicking at another piece of wood on her way back towards the pier. Geoff drips in her hands, merry after spending time in the water. “What brought that on?”

“Was thinking about Hawaii,” Hugo winces, leaning further down into the water, fully submerging his arm. 

“Hawa- Hey! What are you doing-?”

“Ah!” Hugo flings himself back, victorious with a muddy knife in his hand. “Ah-ha! Got it!” 

“Huh, look at that,” Isabel says. 

“Told’ja we’d find something useful. You can never have too many knives,” Hugo grins, pulling a rag from his pocket to wipe the mud away. With a dull, scratched to hell blade, the knife will be just as effective in killing walkers as any other weapon. 

“Well, I’ll give it to you,” Isabel says, “a knife is much more than what I found over there.”

“Maybe you weren’t looking hard enough,” Hugo smirks, which dies when he notices Geoff's perpetual glare fixated on him. A childish impulse to stick his tongue out at the damned creature overwhelms him. He bites it back and returns the glare.

“That’s not long enough to help us grab the crates.”

“There wasn’t anything over there?”

"A couple planks of wood,” Isabel shrugs. 

“We don’t need anything fancy, just something long enough to push the crates towards us.”

Isabel looks to the bright sky, searching for any sign of evening coming upon them. They have plenty of daylight left, but Isabel’s patience is running out, replaced with anxiety. She sets Geoff down on the ground. 

“Watch him, I’ll grab the one I was looking at.” 

“Watch him?” Hugo frowns, pointing at Geoff with his brand new knife. “Where’s he gonna go?”

Geoff glowers up at him, beady black eyes slitted and neck extended up towards him. 

Hugo leans down, whispering, “Hey buddy, have you ever heard of caouane, by chance?”

---

They’re a cheery duo, ain’t they?

Thomas smirks. 

Hidden among the greens with a shoulder leaning against the sticky bark of a tree, Thomas listens to their bickering. Can’t make out much, unfortunately, but he’s got the gist. Almost reminds him of how he and Julie would talk long ago. Julie was meaner than the girl- what the hell is that she’s carrying?- but that don’t matter now. 

Julie’s dead and it’s just Thomas and the beauty in his hand, fully loaded and itchin’ to be fired. 

Not that he’s going to go up and shoot the strangers. 

They ain’t dangerous from what he can tell- the girl’s got a fire in her but the man’s got a limp. 

He don’t know what they’re looking for in the wreckage. Maybe they’re hoping to find some of the kids, but there’s no way this is where they’d hide. No, those kids got ‘em selves a school around here somewhere, even if he and these two don’t know where it is.

But, from the sounds of it, they got an idea and sometimes, that’s enough. 

Thomas knows that if he scours these woods long enough, he’ll find the school. The problem is would he find it before these two did? He don’t know how many kids there’ll be, but he knows that if they got two capable adults on their side, then things won’t go as smoothly.

Especially if these two actually find their kid.

Thomas scoffs. 

Bunch of twits. 

What makes ‘em think they got a chance of seeing their kid again? He’d bet his lucky dollar that their kid is roaming around here as one of the dead if he’s not already in a shallow grave.

Hell, maybe they will find him. Their little baby boy, gaunt, rotten insides with hollow eyes and a hunger for flesh… charging at them with not an ounce of recognition… and even as they’re begging him to stop, screaming, “Stop, it’s us! It’s your mommy and daddy, son! Remember us? Remember us-”

No, he don’t remember nothing. The dead don’t remember.

The kid’ll just keep scurrying towards ‘em… arms held out and jaw slack. 

Maybe they’ll be so distraught that they just let their kid chew ‘em both up.

Together. Undead.

The gun is heavy in his hand. 

Quiet laughter.

Thomas, fingers wrapped painfully tight around his gun, squints back over at the pier.

They’re trying to get something out of the wreckage, using a long chunk of wood to do so. Thomas leans up, attempting to get a better look at ‘em. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out an old pair of glasses. Not his prescription, but he ain’t the picky type. Though they’ll bring on a mean headache later, they help him get a better look at the couple still struggling to get something out of the boat. 

Down on their hands and knees, they work together to fish out whatever’s in there all while engaging in jovial chatter.

Pretty girl, Thomas thinks. Real nice shape. 

Times like these he wishes he’d find himself a pair of binoculars. 

Raspy groans emit from his right. A pair of walkers trod along, interested in all the commotion being made along the shore. 

Just in time. 

More’ll be coming here pretty quick- he saw a whole handful of them about a mile away, mingling together in search of something to tear their teeth into. He whistled at ‘em, then took off back to where he is now. He’s lucky these two ain’t quick in their accomplishments. 

A walker- male, wearing a heavy coat and missing his left eye- hisses through his unhinged jaw as he crawls closer to where Thomas hides. 

He ain’t worried about it. The more walkers that come, the better. 

Ducking down lower, ignoring the age-old ache forever lining his back, he moves closer. Already the strain of his sight through the glasses brings on a fuzzy twinge behind his right eye. 

“I got it, just need to-”

“Careful-”

Behind this tree, he can actually make out most of what they’re saying now.

“On three, alright?” the man says. 

Together, they grunt out, “One… two… three!”

Thomas almost applauds. They managed to find something in the wreckage, and from the looks of it, that something is a crate. Well, he’ll be darned. 

What else could be floating around in that thing? Thomas never paid it much mind upon first discovery- he wasn’t ever going to explore it. Not worth getting his boots wet, that’s for damn sure. 

Also, he ain’t the best swimmer. 

Let ‘em do the grunt work. He can come back and look through it later. 

“See?” The man says, resting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Fully intact.”

“Don’t celebrate until we get it open.” 

“Really eager to see these toy cars, huh?” 

“If there are actually toy cars in here, I’m going to strangle you.” 

The man laughs, throwing a playful elbow towards the girl’s shoulder. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

Thomas raises an interested brow. 

“Don’t be gross,” the girl laughs. 

“You’re right, sorry. I wouldn’t want to talk dirty in front of Geoff.”

Geoff? There ain’t no one else around...

“As if we haven’t scarred him enough in the past,” the man adds.

“Just shut up and open the damn thing so we can go.”

Another gurgle, this time closer. Thomas slinks back further into the bushes, breathing slowly, silently. He’s confident none of the walkers’ll find him. They’re as stupid as dirt with no actual hunting skills, thankfully. 

Thomas can’t imagine anyone would’ve made it as far as they have if the damned dead were smarter than the living. 

Then again, lots of folks are dead. 

Grabbing a heavy-duty rock from beside his foot, Thomas eyes the walkers moving past him. They’re foul, both in appearance and odor. Looks like they got torn apart real good when alive, too, given their shredded clothes and chunks of flesh torn from their arms and waist. 

The one-eyed walker crawls past.

What a way to go, Thomas thinks as he chucks the rock towards the shore, sending it crashing into one of the larger boulders with an echoing crack.

 It draws everyone's attention, the walkers practically wheezing with glee- well, Thomas likes to imagine they’re gleeful to have something to sniff out.

The couple jumping to their feet. 

“Ah, fuck!”

“What the hell was- Oh shit-!” 

The walkers approach the shore, quicker now that they have a meal to pursue. 

Thomas checks the chamber of his fully loaded gun. 

---

Hugo almost had it. 

With his knife jammed along the side of the lid, he was ready to pop it off victoriously.

A startling crack broke his concentration, causing him to lose his grip. The knife slips from the crack and jerks, slicing into the muscle below his thumb.

“Ah, fuck!” Hugo cries out, dropping the knife to cradle his bleeding hand. Blistering pain shocks through his fingers and up his arm. 

“What the hell was- Oh shit-” Isabel reaches out for his arm, holding on with a death grip.  “Walkers!” 

“What?” 

The crate before him forgotten, Hugo whips around.

A group of walkers head down the shore, each groaning and moving as fast as their decaying bodies can carry them. 

What? 

Where the hell did they come from? They made sure to scour the woods from the train station to the boat and take care of any straggling walkers that stood in their way. There weren’t that many. The most they had to deal with were along the shores. 

“There wasn’t a single walker for miles,” Hugo exclaims. “Where the hell did they come from?”

“Don’t know,” Isabel says, staring up at him with wide eyes. She does a double-take when she notices the blood dripping from his hand. “Oh my god, Hugh, what the hell?”

“I’m fine, I slipped. It's just a scratch-”

“A scratch? Seriously?” She grabs his hand, inspecting the wound with wide eyes. "Bullshit, a scratch!"

“Forget it,” Hugo grabs the rag from his belt and ties it around his hand. “There’s only five of them. Nothing we can’t handle-”

“There isn’t only five, look!”

She’s not wrong- on their right, more come hobbling out of the woods. 

Hugo looks from the approaching walkers, down to the unopened crate, down to his bleeding hand. He winces, picking his knife back up. 

“We can handle them.”

“We could handle them if they didn’t already see us!”

“I’ll take the ones on the left-”

“Hugh, we gotta go! Forget the damn crates, they’re not worth dying for. Not now!”

Damn it...

"We're not risking everything!"

She pulls him forward with her down the pier, their boots clanking loudly against the worn wood, making the walkers perk up more. 

Isabel jumps over the side, splashing in the shallow water in hopes of cutting across the shore and into the woods before the walkers get any closer. An easy plan Hugo could follow if it weren’t for the three walkers emerging from their intended destination, blocking their path.

A nasty growl from his right sent Hugo whipping around. A walker- a woman with an exposed neck and chest cavity, missing clumps of hair from beneath her hat- hurries towards him. 

Fuck it. 

Hugo surges forward, grabbing the sticky bones of the walker's throat. The knife plunges through the side of its head with ease, and the walker falls to the ground. Hugo lets out a shaky breath, grunting out at the searing pain throbbing in his hand, painful enough to cause spots in his vision. 

“Hugo, I swear to Christ- don’t you dare get that hand-” Isabel kicks the shin of another walker. It falls to its knees, the perfect height for her to stab it through the head before sending the limp body crashing into yet another walker. A chain reaction of the force causes three of the walkers to fall back. 

“Use your gun,” Isabel tells him, attacking those fallen monsters as fast as she can.

“That’ll just attract more!” 

“So what? Kill these bastards so we can make a run for it!”

That’s assuming that he can successfully kill all of them, which he can’t with his last five bullets. 

There’s more than five left. 

More than ten, maybe. 

He can’t count. 

Where the fuck did they come from? He knows they weren't loud enough to attract this many. 

A walker with one eye crawls along the sand, grabbing at his ankle to gnaw on his boot. This knife breaks its skull with a sickening crack, the odor enough to churn his stomach. 

“Hugo, now!” Isabel shouts, stabbing another walker and pushing through. 

Hugo tries to follow. 

Even in its final death, the walker's grip remains strong on his ankle. He stumbles right into the grip of a heavyset walker, this one much younger, fresher compared to the decaying monsters- stronger.

A full set of rotten teeth snap at him. With his forearm pressed firmly against the chest of the monster, Hugo reaches back to grab his gun from its holster.

The shot rings in his ears, rattling his brain as gore explodes through the back of the walkers head. The earth swerves beneath his feet, acids in his stomach rise into his throat. He coughs, spitting into the dirt. 

Through nausea, Hugo aims. 

Another two shots- two walkers fall to the ground, motionless. 

A third. 

A fourth- fuck. 

Hugo lets off his final shot, hitting a walker struggling with Isabel. Seeing it’s no longer a threat, Isabel grabs onto it, heaving it towards another and sending them crashing. She’s by his side again, huffing, “Let’s go!”

Hugo nods.

He has no idea where the fuck these things came from, or how they showed up so suddenly, but he knows she’s right- whatever the hell is in that crate isn’t worth there lives, not when they’re so close-

“Shit!”

A hand grabs his backpack, jerking him backward. The foul stench of the walker's breath warms his ear and everything within Hugo runs cold. He throws an elbow, twisting himself around in the walker's embrace. 

He doesn’t see the fallen walker behind him. 

They both tumble to the ground. The gun slips out of his grip. 

“Hugo!”

A sixth shot.

The walker's blood splatters across Hugo’s face, and for a moment, he thinks he’s dead. The body slouches over him, unmoving.  

A seventh shot- an eighth- 

Isabel grabs the walker by its shirt, hauling it off of him before dropping to her knees. Her hands move all over him as she gasps out, “Holy shit, please, oh please, tell me you’re okay!” 

Several more shots fire, and one by one, the remaining walkers fall. 

Then there’s silence. 

Hugo reaches for his gun, scooping it up from the dirt before Isabel helps him up. He falls forward onto his bad knee. 

“Augh!”

“Sorry- c’mon-!”

Finally on his feet, Hugo surveys the area. 

All the dead are just that- fallen on the ground. 

“Are-” Hugo coughs “-are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” Isabel shakes her head, narrowed eyes darting all around the forest. “Pissed off, but fine.” Without taking her sight off the forest, she slips her backpack off to glance inside. “Geoff’s okay, too.”

Terrific.

Because Hugo was so worried. 

Isabel leans down, whispering, “Hugh… someone’s here.”

He assumed so. 

The walkers didn’t shoot themselves. 

“Give me your gun.”

Hugo cocks his head to murmur in her ear, “We’re out of bullets.”

“He doesn’t know that.” 

The snapping of wood and rubber against rocks turns their attention back to the woods where a man walks out, waving over at them with a grin.

“Howdy!” he calls out, voice gruff and accent thick. 

Isabel snatches the gun from his hand before Hugo has a chance to protest, pointing it and stopping the man in his tracks. 

“That’s close enough!” 

“Woah, woah,” the man holds his hands up in surrender, though keeps his grip on his gun just as tight.  

“Belle-” Hugo warns, but the man chuckles lightly. 

“Didn’t mean to scare ya. I mean no harm! Heard the gunshots and saw y’all were havin’ some trouble, thought I’d lend a helpin’ hand. You folks alright?” 

Isabel doesn’t lower the gun, keeping her eyes fixated on the man as he cautiously continues to walk over.

“We’re fine,” Hugo answers. “Fine, no bites, just a little startled. Thanks for the help.”

“We could’ve handled it,” Isabel adds. “Thanks.”

The man nods, saying, “No, you look plenty capable, didn’t mean to say ya don’t. Just didn’t want to see any more folks die, y’know? Not when I could do the decent thing and help.”

He’s close now, close enough for Hugo to better make out the details of his graying, ginger beard and bald head. He pulls his glasses off and pockets them with his free hand, blinking rapidly as he grins. 

“Name’s Thomas,” he greets. “Nice to meet’cha.”

[piratekane]

Numbers don't show up for me so I'm choosing “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say…" (from the happy list)

The wind is blistering sharp, cutting through the thin fabric of the dressing gown Charity had slipped on before she slipped out the door, leaving Vanessa and the boys asleep in their beds. The grassland stretches out ahead of her, lush greens fading into the green-blue water of the bay below. In the morning twilight, it feels like a dream she doesn’t want to wake from.

“You’re up early.”

Charity smiles as a pair of warm arms slide around her waist, fingers locking at the swell of her stomach.

“It’s gorgeous,” Vanessa continues, her words a whisper that Charity barely manages to hear before the wind whips them away.

Charity thought Dingle Peninsula would have been a joke, honestly.

Taking a holiday had seemed like a terrible idea. This wasn’t the time, not with everything they had going on. But the village was becoming too hard to breathe in, and if she didn’t get away now, she’d try and leave when she was needed most - when Chas had the baby and when Sarah’s heart came through and when they tried to get her in the courtroom to give her testimony against Bails. She couldn’t leave then, so now was the only option.

She’d rolled her eyes when she first scrolled through housing options in Kerry, skipping right over the homes to rent in Dingle. Kenmare would have been just as good, really, but she had kept coming back to a small, 3-bedroom cottage for rent right on Burnham Woods, with a big open kitchen and a working fireplace.

Dingle Tides, it was called.

Vanessa had laughed so hard she cried and even Noah, clamouring out of the backseat where he had been stuck between Moses and Johnny, had managed a bit of a chuckle. Vanessa had reached across the car and rested her hand high on Charity’s thigh, squeezing as she wiped her eyes with her other hand. Something had rippled through Charity then. It wasn’t the usual feeling she got when Vanessa’s hand hit the ticklish spot just above the inseam on her thigh. It was warmer and softer this time, comforting. She’d dropped her hand over Vanessa’s and squeezed back, trying to ignore the sudden jump of her pulse under her skin in favor of letting Johnny and Moses loose in the front garden.

“Couldn’t sleep. Today is drayman day,” Charity says. She drops her hands over Vanessa’s, her thumb brushing over the ridge of Vanessa’s knuckles.

Vanessa smiles, her mouth pressed to the back of Charity’s shoulder. “We’re on holiday, remember?”

“Can’t change the internal clock, can I,” Charity says absently.

Charity moves in place, feeling Vanessa bend and sway with her. The wind pushes her hair back and she shifts slightly, making sure it doesn’t end up all in Vanessa’s face. The arms around her waist tighten and she inhales deeply, letting the cool, salty air fill her lungs. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say.”

Vanessa’s hands twitch under her own and Charity feels her tense against her back. “Is there?”

Charity thinks about turning around, but the idea of looking into Vanessa’s eyes as she speaks is immobilizing. She smoothes her hands back up Vanessa’s arms and down to her hands, peeling them apart and lacing her fingers into the empty spaces she creates. Vanessa’s body relaxes, just barely. Her mouth purses, her lips in the center of Charity’s back, just over the line of her spine. She can feel Vanessa’s forehead through the thin fabric of her dressing gown and she breathes in again.

The words have been on the tip of her tongue for weeks now, always a breath away. She’s too nervous, though, to speak them into existence. Not because she doesn’t mean them, but because she’s never meant anything more in her whole life. Her next breath is harder to find and she sucks it down greedily, her body shuddering as she tries not to start to panic.

Vanessa must feel it, her fear and hesitation. She starts to sway again, gently, back and forth. She hums something Charity can’t hear, but she can feel it start in her shoulder and travel to the center of her palm. Vanessa’s chest rises and falls against her back, gently coaxing her to follow along. Her body responds, her next inhale matching Vanessa’s, their exhales fading into the misty morning together.

This is what she’s been trying to say.

Vanessa grounds her. Vanessa steadies her. Vanessa nudges her up, pushing her to do the things she knows she wants to do; the things she’s not sure she has the courage to try. But Vanessa is there, in it for the duration, going nowhere, right by her side.

Vanessa makes her want to be the best version of herself that she can be.

Charity is just now figuring out what that version is, but she knows one thing, at least.

“I-”

“I know,” Vanessa murmurs.

Charity frowns. “You what?”

Vanessa laughs, something low that Charity feels more than she hears. “I said, I know.”

“What do you know?” Charity asks, her cheeks flushed. She drops Vanessa’s hand and inches forward, picking up the loose end of the thin sash tied around her waist as she puts some space between them.

Vanessa clicks her tongue and moves forward, her arms around Charity’s waist again. She reaches for Charity’s hand, working the silk out from between her fingers before she squeezes Charity’s hand gently, admonishing her in that easy way she does. “I know quite a bit, Charity Dingle.”

Charity gives in, leaning back against Vanessa again. “Know-It-All,” she mumbles. “What do you think you know, then?”

“I know,” Vanessa says, pausing. She pushes up, her chin resting on Charity’s shoulder. “I know that this is the best holiday I’ve been on.”

“Not much for holidays, are you?” Charity asks, scoffing. “Babe, Noah has been a moody cow at all waking hours. Johnny and Moses argue about everything. Every day we’ve packed the car, it’s rained.”

Vanessa laughs again, louder now. “Noah helped me make tea last night,” she points out. “I taught him how to hold a knife properly. He’s going to try it on his own tonight, you know.” She squeezes Charity’s middle when Charity tries to interrupt her. “Johnny and Moses have fallen asleep every night so far cuddled up together. And so what if we haven’t gotten to the beach, yet? Our Scrabble tourney is very thrilling, if you ask me.”

“Totally, babe,” Charity says, shaking her head. “Noah’s addition of the word ‘wazzock’ really gave the board a bit of something extra, didn’t it.”

“He played, eh?” Vanessa’s chin digs hard into Charity’s shoulder. “Baby steps. He’ll be my mate yet.”

Charity sighs heavily. She frowns when the weight and heat at her back fades and Vanessa steps in front of her, hands on her hips and the skin between her eyebrows wrinkled.

“This has been the best holiday I’ve ever been on,” Vanessa repeats. Her eyes are shining with something that Charity doesn’t argue with. “I wouldn’t trade a single moment of it away for anything. I’d not even trade Noah away.”

“Steady on,” Charity murmurs, her hands sliding around Vanessa’s waist, pulling her closer. “He’s at an age, you know. Even I’d trade him in for another Moses.”

“Do you want to know a secret?” Vanessa asks, ignoring Charity. “I wouldn’t change a single thing about this trip.” She purses her lips. “Maybe the weather, yeah? But everything else, I’d keep exactly the same. Even if we went from a village of Dingles to a village called Dingle.” She reaches up, thumbing the edge of Charity’s chin. “Anywhere you are… Well, that’s somewhere I’d want to be.”

Charity can feel a flush across her neck and she swallows back against the urge to snark back, to say something and ruin the moment. Vanessa’s eyes are bright and wide and they put the ocean behind her to shame.

“And that thing? The one you’ve been meaning to tell me?” Vanessa continues. “You don’t have to say it.”

Something turns in her stomach and Charity starts to shake her head. She wants to say it. She might even need to.

“Because I know,” Vanessa says again. Her voice is low and her eyes are soft and her hand is warm against Charity’s face. “And I feel the same way.”

The feeling in her stomach tightens. “You do?”

“Totally,” Vanessa breathes out. She lifts up onto her toes, her mouth against Charity’s. Her lips are slightly chapped and cool from the wind, but Charity pulls her closer, kissing her harder.

“Mum!” Noah yells from the door of the cottage, headphones already hanging around his neck.

Vanessa laughs into her mouth, resting her forehead against Charity’s shoulder.

“Moses and Johnny tried to pour cereal. And milk.” Noah pauses. “They missed. Twice.”

Charity groans and Vanessa laughs again, lifting up onto her toes to press a kiss to the corner of Charity’s mouth.

“Come on, then. Before the pour out the brews I made, too,” Vanessa says, grabbing Charity’s hand and tugging her gently back towards the cottage. “Then we’ll pack the car and drive down to the harbour to check the conditions. Today is going to be our beach day, I can feel it.” She gets ahead of Charity, gently nudging Noah out of the way.

Charity watches him roll his eyes, but without the usual malice of late. Moses and Johnny are running around in their Paw Patrol pyjamas, their socked feet milky and wetting the floor. Vanessa catches both of them and strips their socks off, sending them back into the living room where Noah has already put on some cartoon for them. He catches the roll of towels that Vanessa throws to him and lines his shoes, sliding around the floor to clean the mess. Vanessa laughs at him, but does the same. Charity leans against the back of the sofa, one hand resting on Johnny’s head as she absently brushes his hair to one side. Moses grins up at her and she smiles back, winking.

Vanessa might be right; this might be the best holiday she’s ever had, too.

[sightandfire]

Address: 2600 E Atlantic Blvd, Pompano Beach, FL 33062

Opening their doors in September 2015 (but having had established their name and location back in 2014) 26 Degree Brewing Company was the dream of it’s founders Greg Lieberman, Yonathan Ghersi, Oscar Oliwkowicz and Billy Silas who started out as homebrewers, but cemented their legacy as local legends. Their goal from the beginning was to brew world-class, craftsmen-inspired beers that are rich in tradition while celebrating life and love in South Florida, which just so happens to be their mission statement as well!

For those who are curious as to the naming of the brewery, “26° Brewing Co” was a geographical nod to the 26th parallel North which is a meridian that spans from North Miami and Lake Okeechobee. The 21,000sqft brewing facility took 12 months to gut and renovate in a space that used to be inhabited by Winn-Dixie (remember those?). The 4,600sqft taproom has a 54′ long bar and a capacity to hold 400 people at any given time. The tabletops in the taproom were built by Yonathan and Greg and are carved from reclaimed, distressed wood & the legs are fashioned from fire sprinkler pipes; there are also tabletops consisting of old FPL & Comcast wire spools embedded with brewing grain throughout the taproom.

As stated above, the co-owners (whom also started out as homebrewers) of 26° Brewing saw 100 batches (or roughly 1,000 gallons) of beer brewed in four years. It’s a lot easier brewing that capacity now that they have a 30 bbl system; but even though the volume of beer that they brew is on a larger scale, they still brew each of their beers with a specific water profile which brings out the best in each style of beer. Even more so, they brew mostly true to style beers, but aren’t afraid of stepping outside the lines and experimenting with some of their recipes.

On top of their 30 barrel system (which they plan to expand in the near future) they recently expanded their canning line to their facility and will soon be shipping out even more cans of “Captain Ron” Hefeweizen & “IPA1A” brews (currently available at Whole Foods, Total Wine and many more retailers from Orlando to the Keys!); and what’s even cooler is you can find “Joe’s Pale Ale” on tap at Flanigans as well!

And speaking of expanding, they plan on building out a full kitchen within their facility so you can have the full experience of food and drink at the brewery, but till then they have some light food options and food trucks that constantly come through the brewery and also several places around the area you can eat at while you’re drinking all their delicious beer. And to add to all that deliciousness, there were whispers of beer pairing dinners in the near future as well!

In keeping with their motto of celebrating life and love in South Florida, 26° Brewing is all about helping out and hosting events for the local community. For instance, they contract brew several brews [including beers for The Abbey (click for my blog post about them)], host puppy adoptions once a month (their taproom is doggy friendly!), and host “Painting With A Twist” events at the brewery as well. The artist (Kristin Pavlick) who painted “Abrahop Lincoln” above leads the “Painting With A Twist” events and there have been rumors floating around that she may do a “Bearded Men Of History” installation at the brewery!

Some things our tour guide (Larry Dinan, who’s side gig is the taproom manager) had told us while checking out the brewery was that they are currently working on a collab with the Shane Duncan Band, so keep an eye out for that soon.

And to add to all the brewery has going on, they are also gearing up for their 3 year anniversary Sep. 22, 2018! During the event they are going to have live bands performing throughout the day, plenty of food options available from different food trucks and they might even have an anniversary brew for everyone to sip on! And while Oktoberfest is typically celebrated in September in Germany, they will also be having their third annual Oktoberfest event at the brewery as well! They have their Marzen beer fermenting in the tanks as we speak!

If you’re looking for a dope neighborhood brewery with chill vibes, a gorgeous taproom and delicious beers you can sip on all day look no further than 26 Degree Brewing.

On to the beer!

Here Are The Explanations From The Brewery:

Flagship Beers:

Ziko’s Rage [Imperial Stout (7.8% ABV; 40 IBU)]: With a steel hook in his mouth and vengeance in his heart, Ziko the sea turtle rose from the depths of the ocean. The Loggerhead Marinelife Center took him in, nursed him back to health. While they were able to mend his physical ailments, he remained a biting force of fury until the day they released him. Boasting a roasty sweetness and chocolaty indulgence, this strong and complex stout is the perfect brew to bare Ziko’s name and is an award winner as well.

Tri-County Common [Common Lager (5.5% ABV; 28 IBU)]: Easy like South Florida, Tri-County Common embodies the laid bak lifestyle that Broward, Miami-Dade and Palm Beach are famous for. Brewed in the tradition of European lagers, this local favorite offers a flavor profile that big beer manufacturers can’t match. A crisp yet subtle hint of malt balances the deceptively clean finish of sweet esters to create a highly drinkable light and dry beer that’s a suitable fit for any occasion.

IPA1A [American IPA (6.4% ABV; 70 IBU)]: Jump in and take a hop-fueled ride down highway IPA1A. Inspired by the refreshing breeze and scenic surroundings of South Florida’s most iconic beachside highway, this IPA is the perfect way to end any road trip. From the citrus aroma and floral bouquet to the dry, yet surprisingly quenching zest of hops, IPA1A finishes with a subtle citrus flavor and an understated malty backbone.

Captain Ron [Hefeweizen (5.6% ABV; 15 IBU)]: When Captain Ron’s steering the ship, it only takes one good eye to see you’re in for one hell of a voyage. Grab a crowler and join the eye-patch sporting, carefree captain on a treasure hunt for beer and booty. With a refreshing flavor and smooth finish this Hefeweizen is a fun, day-drinking beer that’s equally popular with craft beer connoisseurs and new craft beer drinkers.

Scotch Ness Monster [Scotch Ale (7.4% ABV; 38 IBU)]: Brewed just once as a homebrew, Scotch Ness has subtle hints of caramel and smoky flavors. True to style, the hop bittering, hop flavor and hop aroma are nearly non-existent. For reasons we cannot fathom, this style of beer (strong scotch ale or “wee heavy”) is not too popular in America but had enormous popularity in the United Kingdom dating as far back as the 1700’s.

Jared’s Batch [Amber Ale (6.3% ABV; 22 IBU)]: Brewed with love, Jared’s Batch should be enjoyed with great friends and family. Whether at the bar or at the ball game, this amber ale is always better when ordered by the round. Sweet caramel malts balance with a savory finish, each flavor complementing its counterpart like any friendship should. So grab a round. Get everyone together and toast to a bond that can never be broken.

Limited Release:

Bourbon Barrel Aged Jared’s Batch [Amber Ale (6.3% ABV; 22 IBU)]: Our Jared’s Batch Amber Ale aged for 6 months inside an Oak Bourbon Barrel.

Gose Kwervo [Gose (5.2% ABV; 11 IBU)]: Sweet and salty just like drinking a margarita! Mixed with fresh orange and lime juice to give it that perfect tartness.

Joe’s Pale Ale [Pale Ale (4.5% ABV; 20 IBU)]: This light ale is an enjoyable selection for any Florida day. Find it here and at your local Flanigan’s only!

Rotating Beers:

Pucker Face [Sour IPA (6.0% ABV; 60 IBU)]: This kettle sour utilizes a unique strain of lactobacillus which is double dry hopped with a combination of amarillo, citra and cashmere hops.

Celtic Red [Irish Lager (5.3% ABV; 25 IBU)]: This Irish Red is a malty, easy to drink lager with minimal bitterness and a nice medium body. It worked so well that St. Pat told us to keep it a little longer.

Sesh on the Beach [Session IPA (5.0% ABV; 54 IBU)]: Dry, light bodied and comes with a kick. This Session IPA has a nice mix of tropical melon, citrus and pineapple. Crisp, clear and bitter making you come back for another.

Pompano Pale Ale [American Pale Ale (6.2% ABV; 51 IBU)]: Pompano Pale is a west coast style, American Pale Ale. Smooth, drinkable and indeed hoppy. Infused with Mosaic & Simcoe hops.

Dry 95 [Brut IPA (7.2% ABV; 23 IBU)]: Think IPA meets dry champagne. This very dry, highly carbonated, effervescent beer has some tropical & citrus notes that will tingle the taste buds.

Here’s What I Thought:

Ziko’s Rage: You can definitely taste the roasted malts on this one. It’s extremely crisp, has notes of dark chocolate and has a medium to full body.

Tri-County Common: This was a crisp, smooth lager that was not malt forward, but had a nice balance.

IPA1A: Has a slight dryness to it, but has a nice balance between the hoppiness and citrus with a nice finish.

Captain Ron: Wheaty, crisp, refreshing. Goes down smooth; you can taste the clove, banana and phelonics on this one. A delicious hefe.

Scotch Ness Monster: Notes of caramel and roasted flavors. Crisp. Extremely drinkable.

Jared’s Batch: Tastes of a classic Amber Ale. Crisp, with malty biscuit notes and notes of caramel as well.

Bourbon Barrel Aged Jared’s Batch: Tastes like Jared’s Batch on crack! You definitely get notes of the scotch barrel this was fermented in and all previous notes of the Amber Ale as well.

Gose Kwervo: You got a full taste of the citrus on this Gose; had this great balance of sour and salty that was extremely delicious.

Joe’s Pale Ale: This was an extremely light beer on all fronts; super sessionable.

Pucker Face: This Sour IPA was hoppy, sour and citrusy all in one and was balanced extremely well which is a feat in and of itself.

Celtic Red: This Irish Lager was crisp, refreshing, actually pretty light and malty, but not overbearing.

Sesh on the Beach: A super sessionable IPA (as the name implies) which is light, crisp and has a nice subtle citrusy-tartness on the back end.

Pompano Pale Ale: This Pale Ale was hoppy, light, crisp and would definitely be easy to throw back one after the other.

Dry 95: With scents reminiscent of the Brut cologne that my grandpa used to wear, The Brut IPA was dry, but crisp and wasn’t too hoppy at all. Nice touch of a citrus note in it as well; extremely drinkable for brunch!

So all in all with the ambiance of the brewery, the beers we were served and the overall experience, I would give 26 Degree Brewing Company 5 out of 5 piggys!

     If you loved reading about the brewery and the vibes they put out, here’s some more things to love about them! For one, they have things going on every day of the week:

Mon: They offer happy hour specials all day; all their flagship beers go for $4 and from 6pm-11pm $2 off anything to go! Tues: They have their “Spin the Wheel” Special; from 2pm-6pm whatever the wheel lands on is the special for that half hour, every half hour. Wedns: Trivia Night! Fri: Is live music night!

Website: 26 Degree Brewing Company

Facebook: 26 Degree Brewing Company

Instagram: @26brewing

Twitter: @26brewing

  26 Degree Brewing Company Address: 2600 E Atlantic Blvd, Pompano Beach, FL 33062 Opening their doors in September 2015 (but having had established their name and location back in 2014) …

[scoundrels-in-love]

For the Aesthetic Ask: pantone, cactus, combat boots and beaches.

I am finally getting to these because I’m procrastinating on other things, ahaha. Sorry for taking my sweet time! @bienchanter (Cause sometimes when it’s been a long time, replied asks don’t show up... Not that mention system is flawless.)

Pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail.

Hmm, I actually went ahead and left this question for the last because not only I can’t pick who to describe, but I also feel like this will go in the deep end and be emotional.

But there is someone, that I have known for 3 years now, but it genuinely feels so much longer? We have had so much good times together, but she’s also seen me at my worst and hasn’t exited the room yet which is saying something. She’s so creative, funny and also salty, so goddamn talented at anything she touches - and also hardworking, even though she’s a procrastinator like rest of us. I feel like I have not been able to be half the friend and support she’s been to me, though sometimes she drives me absolutely bonkers, but it’s something I accept. To point it’s part amusement to me. She’s truly cute as heck, you guys. Tiny salty spitfire of criticism and creativity.

I wish her life had been kinder to her and really pray it will be kinder to her in future and that while she might feel a little lost and hopeless at times, there will be time (and may it be soon) when there’s calmness in her life, like the sort where you sigh and feel, yeah, I am at good place right now, where I do the things I enjoy, both work and hobby and personal life wise. 

She’s taught me so much about who am I as person, about writing and just friendship. We have had nights where at least I laughed till I cried and things that still make me grin when I think of them and going down any sort of ‘let’s look through old messages’ is just a GODDAMN TREASURE TROVE.

These days, I’m just so afraid she’ll slip away slowly but surely (that the process has already begun), losing interest in things we share and I will be left with huge, huge hole in my heart. And I don’t know what are the chances of her reading this, but there are some, and it makes this awkward, but at the same time, it’s not anything I’ve not told to her before? I love her, with all my platonic, ace ass and stupid heart.

Cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes?

If honestly, I am not one for eye contact, but that does not mean I cannot appreciate beautiful eyes. And I think all eyes are beautiful, if the person with them is not a cruel, monstrous person. But like, on highly superficial level? Brown eyes are gorgeous. All shades, from the hazel-y brown-blue to honey or amber ones and, no, I am not excluding all the dark shades. The oak brown ones or the ones that are so dark that they’re nearly black or the pupil’s not distinguishable at all, except in maybe certain angle and light? Wow, man. Just wow. So many shades and light plays possible for brown eyes, they’re truly amazing.

Combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way? 

This is very tough question, something I am failing to come up to answer entirely honestly. Because I’m just not entirely sure. I think I am 50/50. More of a forgive, but not forget type. It depends what’s been done, though. There’s few people in my life, that hurt me so deeply I don’t think I ever really forgave them, but, for example, with one of them I still felt like it was my fault and even sought to contact them, getting burned again and again, till I got a calmer parting and came to terms something. I don’t hate them, I don’t think I do, but I definitely don’t feel like I have forgiven and definitely not forgotten. These are people that severely fucked up my life or my mental state, in ways that affect me to this day, though. For frame of comparison.

Little things, stepping over lines or hurting me, I don’t exactly keep in memory like a grudge and forgive easily, understanding we all have our bad moods or there’s just miscommunication, etc., but I still remember and can be more wary, especially in ways to avoid having that reaction/thing that created argument. Overall, I do brush things aside most of the time or squint/ignore them, to point I don’t speak up for myself when I should and it ends up in nasty outbursts eventually. I don’t really like this and I am working on emotional management as well as being more honest about things that upset me then and there so I can talk them out and Let Them Go. One thing I can’t really forgive, though, is lying. It’s based on the ‘hurt me for rest of my life’ thing I mentioned previously.

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why? 

Man, this is interesting. I don’t love and at the same time like my hair color, especially when it bleaches out in Summer sun and my hair is such a frail mess, I am afraid dye job would Finish Them. But, I am definitely partial to soft, pastel hair end trend that’s big here right now and I then I would probably go for that bob style I’ve been dreaming of, but probably can’t maintain.

Something like this! (Bonus point for me being rather blonde, too, and loving soft pastel purple, so, this is good reference picture.)

I think it’d suit me.

Thank you so much for asking and for your patience!

Send me an aesthetic ask or honestly just any ask at this point? :’)

[losille2000]

The Ugly Duckling, Part I

TITLE: The Ugly Duckling CHAPTER NUMBER: 1/3 AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom GENRE: Romance/PWP FIC SUMMARY: Sometimes an ugly duckling believes she’ll always be an ugly duckling until someone comes along and shows her otherwise. RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS: Um, nothing yet. AUTHORS NOTES: I… don’t know where this came from. But it came from somewhere and it’ll be at least two parts, maybe three. Let’s just say three. Short and sweet. But let’s be honest, I have whole world planned for this, so who knows if there will be more afterward. For the location mentioned in this story, you can watch any one of these videos to get an idea of the peril Astrid faces. The last one is the best, because it has nice, peaceful music.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6wTgncf_rA

https://youtu.be/iZoacDf5p-U

https://youtu.be/xk6firqVC-U

https://youtu.be/S8GX486ym9Q

Part I - The Duckling

 Of all the harebrained ideas Astrid had ever had, hanging onto a cliff by her fingernails two hundred feet over a Hawaiian beach probably classified as the worst. Not that she planned it this way. In fact, the travel brochure she picked up at the tiny eight-gate Kauai airport said this path down to the secluded beach below it was easy enough for even the mildly physically inclined. She didn’t run marathons or anything, but chasing rambunctious kindergartners qualified her as mildly physically inclined. She certainly didn’t spend her time sitting at a desk job or riding a couch in front of the television. Right?

Wrong.

 Now she wished she had a gym membership and some modicum of upper body strength, just to hold herself up by the flimsiest piece of twine masquerading as a hand rail stretched between two shoots of thick bamboo. While her legs kicked wildly on the soft ground, searching for purchase.

 Maybe there was a reason why they called this Hideaways Beach, why they said only a few people ventured to it daily. She’d been lured in with the promise of relative privacy and solitude. She’d been blindsided by everything else.

 What the brochure neglected to mention was the on-and-off Hawaiian rain. And the fact that, after a rain, as it had done most of the night before, the trail became treacherously slippery. And apparently, in Hawaii, volcanic dirt happened to be five million percent slipperier than normal people dirt like she was used to back home in Las Vegas. This, also, wasn’t considering that most of the pre-laid handrails had either rusted away in the salty sea air or had never been placed to begin with on the steep incline. Like some construction crew realized trying to make the path safe wasn’t even worth their time or effort. They knew the haole would be stupid enough to try it out anyway.

 Like her.

 Because she was so haole, it hurt. Not to mention stupid.

 She realized now, with some startling clarity, that she was probably going to plummet to her death, completely alone. Unloved. Young, basic, and likely easily forgotten. At least the view before she met her fate was gorgeous enough. Anyone would be lucky to die staring out at the crystalline waters of Kauai’s north shore.

 But she’d already come too far to give up and, looking back up the steep, uneven stairs leading to the top of the trailhead, she couldn’t summon the energy to try to climb them. Falling, or at least going downhill, seemed like the best option. There was no turning back, even though she still hadn’t figured out how to maneuver her shoe-covered feet into the soft red mud beneath her. Maybe sliding down the muddy incline would be better?

 She groaned as she released her sloth-like hold on the nylon rope, setting her butt on the muddy path. The red goo smooshed into the thin bathing suit cover-up she wore, and it honestly felt like she’d had an accident. But her burning arms finally had a rest. And at least like this, she wasn’t liable to take any cartwheels down the cliff. Maybe she’d just sit there and waste away, or maybe turn into Te Fiti from Moana. Her students loved that movie. She’d promised to bring back photos from her adventures to share with them. They’d be so disappointed that they didn’t get to see where Moana and Lilo and Stitch were from.

 “Um, excuse me,” said a deep, tentative voice above her.

 Astrid startled, but she didn’t jump far, the mud creating a strong suction with her bottom. To add insult to injury, the suction made a disgusting wet fart sound as she settled back into her spot. Now she could die from mortification instead of blunt force trauma. Just great!

 A tall man, thin but muscular, peered down at her through dark Ray Bans. He wore a holey threadbare t-shirt in blue with crinkled board shorts underneath, those a plain black. A brightly colored beach towel decorated in hibiscus was slung over a broad shoulder. The dirty boat shoes on his feet seemed to be doing perfectly well holding him upright on the slippery path, enabling him to peer down his straight patrician nose at her. His face pinched and he looked up toward the sun beating down through the trees while he readjusted his baseball cap.

 “I’m sorry to bother,” he said again. Goodness, his voice was rich, like honey. His English accent made him purr. Maybe he was doing it on purpose, trying to calm the crazy not-really-farting lady sitting on her ass on a hiking trail. “But are you okay?”

 Astrid squinted and looked up at him. He looked like a giant from her position, impossibly tall, like one of the trees surrounding them. “Do I look like I’m okay?” She felt the wetness on her cheek and reached up, wiping away a few anguished tears that seemed to have erupted without her knowledge. She didn’t know if she was crying because she had failed herself, or because she was relieved someone found her.

 “May I help you?” he asked, extending a hand. It was a nice hand, big palm, with thin, elegant fingers. His forearm was nice, too. He probably worked out, hence why he was still standing.

 She was definitely hitting the gym when she got home. If she got home.

 Astrid reached for him, closing her fingers around his forearm, as he did the same to her, for more leverage. With a little hoist, and some more effort, she was finally standing on two shaky legs again. Except now that she had him for support, she didn’t want to let go.

 He was more solid than any of the railings around her. She liked it; he peered down at her with amusement on his lips. Maybe she needed to let go of his arm, but she was too terrified to do so.

 “Are you going down or coming up?” he asked.

 “I have absolutely no idea,” she said with a high-pitched chuckle that came out as exasperation. “I’m technically still going down, but I think maybe I should go back. But then I’m looking back up there, and I don’t think I have it in me right now.”

 His bright laugh made her insides bubble. “How about we tumble down the trail together?”

 “You sure you want to do that?” she asked. “I’m a bit of a walking disaster.”

 He looked down the trail, and back up, then straight at her. At least she imagined he was looking at her. The sunglasses were too dark to see through. “I’m game if you are.”

 “You’re probably going to regret it.”

 “Let me be the judge of that.”

 Astrid couldn’t contain the silly giggle that bubbled up her throat. At least there was some gallantry left in the world. Most men wouldn’t even look at her twice, much less stop to help her… and then offer to escort her down the cliff face with the threat of meeting their own demise. She just wasn’t worth it.

 They moved slowly and quietly, and once they were past the initial incline, it became easier to walk without taking small, measured steps to preserve balance. The incline turned shallow, and the terrain changed from dirt to rocks and leaves. These seemed to be mostly dry, covered as they were with such a dense tree canopy above the trail.

 Finally, they made it to the beach. True to the travel brochure’s word, it was completely empty. Oh, and it was gorgeous. Aided by the difficult path down, she figured not many people had spent time in this pretty little cove, making the water bluer, the sand cleaner, and the reef more vibrant through the clear aquamarine waters. It was a perfect place to spend a day, even after almost hurtling to a sure death.

 She sighed and glanced at the man beside her, who seemed to have frozen in his own awe of the location.  Astrid smiled, looking at his profile. High cheekbones, strong jaw covered in a healthy growth of stubble. Short auburn curls poked out from beneath his hat. He looked youngish, yet older than her. She wanted to see his eyes, to gauge his attractiveness further. Not that it mattered. Because it didn’t. He was just being nice, helping her.

 “So, uh, thank you,” she finally said, making him turn to look at her.

 He grinned. “No problem.”

 What did she say? Should she invite him to sit with her? It was weird being the only two people down here, now strangely bonded through a near-death experience. Well, her near-death experience. She chewed on the inside of her cheek, then drew in a breath. “Yeah, have a good day.”

 And that’s how she left it, giving him a stupid semi-wave of her hand as she scurried through the grainy yellow sand to her right. Away from him, and away from the awkwardness. She hated awkward, but Awkward was her middle name. Always had been, though her mom had refused to let her use it as her Confirmation name when she was taking catechism classes as a child. She went with Joan, as in ‘of Arc’, instead. Thought it’d give her the push to be courageous for once in her life.

 Astrid knew exactly where courageous got her. She’d barely survived the hike down the cliff.

 Astrid took the rucksack from her back and pulled out her own beach towel, laying it carefully on an untouched patch of sand, half under a shade tree, but still with a good splash of sun. Then she tossed off her own sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat before heading to the water.  She waded into the surf, letting the cool ocean tickle her toes. Preferably, she’d have come later in the year for warmer temperatures, but March’s spring break meant she still might be able to see the whales that came in the spring for their calving.

 She carefully inched further into the water, peeling off her cover-up and jumping into a reef-less area of deeper water to wash off the slimy red mud clinging to her body. Fortunately, most of it disappeared in a cloud of rusty water, but her clothing didn’t fare as well. At least she was still alive to tell the tale.

 After bobbing in the slow undulating waves for a few minutes, she trudged back for the shoreline and her blanket, wringing her wet hair as she emerged. Even though it was wet, she could pick out the light golden streaks running through the usually mousy brown, actually making it look something other than drab for a change. If only she could keep it and her nice tan going for the rest of the spring and summer, she’d be happy.

 The tiny hairs on her neck rose, and a frisson of electricity sizzled up her back.  A sure sign someone was watching her, or at least had looked at her. She glanced to her left to make sure no one else was there—she’d been duped before thinking someone was looking at her, but they were really looking past her—and then glanced at the only other person on the beach.

 He stood still at the surf’s edge, his feet buried in the sand, small frothy waves lapping at his ankles. But his eyes were on her, not on what he was doing. Still with the glasses and hat, she couldn’t really make out any intent in his gaze, other than a friendly smile and a nod of his head.

 The thought that he might be checking her out made her laugh again. No one checked her out. Well, maybe not ‘no one,’ but the someones who did were typically only in bars and clubs when she was the only one left out of a group of girls or the men were too drunk to care who they went home with.

 It wasn’t false modesty, either, that had made her laugh… and blush… at the stranger’s attention. She’d always known she wasn’t pretty. Not like her older sister, the beauty queen. Or her cousins, all striking in their own way. Her mother had called her the ugly duckling—she of the unremarkable plumage, plain face, and squat rounded figure. A terrible thing for a mother to say, but that was Mom. Love her or hate her.

 Astrid had waited to turn into a swan for years, like the story she always read to her kindergarten classes, but it still hadn’t happened. And why would it? This wasn’t a fairy tale and that man wasn’t looking at her appreciatively. He was probably just being nice, his eyes finding the only other moving thing on the secluded beach, before moving on.

 She settled down onto her towel, deciding to lay first on her stomach and read a bit from the Kindle she’d brought, since it seemed to have survived her slip earlier. She didn’t get very far before a voice called out to her.

 “Is the book good?” called the Englishman, now closer to her, but still at the surf’s edge. He was looking back in her direction, then bending down to inspect a shell on the sand.

 Astrid frowned. “Excuse me?”

 He motioned to the Kindle sitting on the blanket in front of her. “You came to one of the most beautiful places in the world and you’re reading instead of watching. I sure hope the book is worth it.”

 “You don’t like to read?”

 He barked out a laugh and looked back at the sun. “I love to read, but I find there’s so much to explore in unfamiliar places like this. Unless you live here and this isn’t new to you.”

 Ah, so he was playing the information mining game. “If I lived here, do you think I’d be stupid enough to attempt that hike on my own?”

 “No, I suppose not,” he said. “Then where’s home?”

 “Las Vegas.”

 “I’ve been,” he replied. “Fun city.”

 Sure, if you liked always smelling of stale cigarette smoke, losing money, and ignoring the seedy underbelly of a city built on mobs, human trafficking, and obscene wealth that never trickled past the Strip. Astrid rolled her eyes and dipped her head to read again.

 He didn’t take the clue. “Where are you staying?”

 She groaned and shut her Kindle cover. “At the condos right next to the trailhead.”

 “I’m at the St. Regis down the way,” he offered. “This the first time you tried to come down here?”

 “First time I’ve had the courage to attempt it,” she shot back.

 The man nodded, running his fingers thoughtfully across his mouth. “It’s my third time. I slipped the first time, as well.”

 Astrid rolled her eyes. “You did not.”

 “I did! Arse over kettle,” he said.

 She scoffed. “You’re a lying liar who lies.”

 “Why would it be so difficult to think I fell? That trail should probably be closed due to safety concerns,” he replied, stepping closer to her, dry sand sticking to his bare feet as he walked. Eventually, he stopped in front of her with his hands on his hips, looking down his nose again.

 From her vantage, all she could really see was crotch, so she quickly pulled herself up into a sitting position. She rested back on her hands, with her legs outstretched. “I had my hands on you, I know how strong you are.”

 “Muscles don’t mean strength,” he said.

 Astrid groaned and rolled her eyes again. This man was both incredibly annoying and alluring all at once and she wanted to keep talking with him… until she didn’t. Finally, he seemed to get her reticence and turned on his heels, walking back toward the water, stripping off his glasses, hat and shirt as he went. They landed on the sand in a heap.

 He dove into the blue depths, but the moment before he did it was long enough for Astrid to verify that the man was walking muscle. How long did he have to work out every day just to maintain it? Or was he naturally that lean? It was ridiculous and a little unfair, really.

 When he popped up out of the water, he was facing her direction, the first time she’d been given an opportunity to really see him. And heavens, was he gorgeous. Not just the sculpted-from-marble body, but his face. Maybe not male model pretty, but that’s what made him so attractive to her. He was a man, interesting and maybe a little on the rugged side, not some baby-faced model perfection. The water dripping around him and off of him, however, made it seem like he’d been ripped straight from the romance novel she’d been attempting to read a few minutes ago.

 Maybe he was. Maybe this was all some delusion she’d created as she lay dying on the bottom of the cliff, after actually falling the two hundred feet. She pinched her arm.

 No, not a delusion. He was real, and he was headed for her. Again.

 “So,” he said, dripping onto her towel as he pulled the hat back down on his head and replaced the sunglasses. For what she had been able to see of his sea-green eyes, she found them to be intense and gorgeous. But she knew she’d have to stare into them for a while to know for sure.

 “Yes?” she asked, lifting a brow at him.

 “Would you have dinner with me tonight?”

 She tried not to sound incredulous. But there was no helping it. No one that looked like him had ever asked her out to dinner like this. “Excuse me?”

 He chuckled at her. “Dinner, at the St. Regis. Say seven?”

 Astrid frowned. “I’m sorry, but—”

 “It’s the only polite thing to do after I saved you,” he said.

 “Shouldn’t I be the one inviting you out, then?” she asked.

 He shrugged his shoulder. “Nah. My treat. I’d simply like the pleasure of your company.”

 “What about the people I came with?”

 “The more the merrier,” he said, but he hedged anyway. He wanted her alone, clearly. Which was strange. Everything about this day had been strange. “How many shall I make the reservation for?”

 But he knew. She didn’t know how he knew she was all alone, but he did. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, as they were once again hidden behind his sunglasses, she felt them on her, assessing her, reading her. He had her number. She only wished she had his.

 “Just the two of us,” she finally replied. “I don’t even know your name.”

 That seemed to change him, to make him do a double take. Almost as though he were surprised by the question. He cleared his throat and said, “Henry Longfellow.”

 “That’s a stupid name,” she said. “And fake.”

 “How do you know?”

 Astrid licked her lips. “Add a Wadsworth in there and you’ve got yourself one of the greatest American poets to ever poet.”

 His shoulders slumped and he harrumphed. “I’m impressed you know that. What’s your name, then?”

 She sighed. She damn well wasn’t going to give him her real name if he wasn’t going to give his. “How ‘bout Jane Austen?”

 “Ha!” He laughed. “No Jane, can’t do Jane. You strike me as more of a Brontë--a little darker and more Gothic around the edges than old Jane.”

 “Charlotte, then,” she said.

 “Not Emily?”

 Astrid shrugged. “I’m more of a Rochester girl than a Heathcliff.”

 He stared at her for good long moment, as though memorizing what she looked like. “Alright, dinner at seven, then, Charlotte.”

 “Do you do this often?” she called to him as he turned and started for his towel.

 “Do what?” he asked.

 “Make edicts and expect people to follow them?”

 He grinned. “Most people do what I say.”

 Astrid couldn’t believe his cockiness. But there was also an infectious friendliness in him that made it difficult to say no to anything. “If I don’t make it tonight, it’s because I’m stuck down here, or dead at the bottom of the cliff from trying to climb back up.”

 He laughed. “I have faith in you, Charlotte.”

 “Thanks,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

 “Seven! Don’t forget! Or I’ll come bang on every one of the doors of the flats you’re staying at,” he yelled, slipping onto the path and out of sight.

 Astrid groaned and fell back on her towel, staring up at the impossibly blue sky.

 When had her life turned into this, anyway? Damn it, though, if she wasn’t just a little excited. She let out a little squeal and reached for her Kindle, happy to finally have the peace she craved, as well as a weird new happiness bubbling up inside her.

[wineanddinosaur]

We Asked 11 Brewers: What Classic Craft Beer Are You Drinking Right Now?

With the majority of the world under varying degrees of lockdown as governments attempt to combat the devastating effects of the novel coronavirus and subsequent Covid-19 pandemic, many beer drinkers are seeking comfort, relaxation, and familiarity in their beer choices.

Whether it takes the form of drinking your cellar, raiding the stash of bottles squirreled away for a rainy day, or returning to old, familiar classics, brewers and beer consumers alike are looking for the liquid form of pulling on your favorite sweatpants, but in a pint glass, bottle, or can.

From the OG Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, to beloved Belgian stalwart Orval, here’s what 11 brewers around the world are reaching for during this scary time.

“I’ve been getting down with some Ska Brewing True Blonde Ale. Crisp and delicious, this low-ABV classic American blonde is perfect for an all-day drinking session, especially with the weather in Denver warming up. It has also been helping in quarantine to help feel connected to some of my favorite homies. Ska has been one of my favorite breweries for the last 13 years and the people there are some of the nicest and most modest in the industry. Cracking this beer brings me back to anniversary parties of years past, skanking in the parking lot to some legendary ska bands, celebrating with friends that are more like family. I can’t wait for the day when I can make the trek back down to Durango to dance, hug, and crack a cold one with all of the rude boys and girls of the ska fam.” — Bess Dougherty, Head Brewer, Grateful Gnome Sandwich Shoppe and Brewery, Denver

“The classic craft beer I’m currently drinking is Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. The quality, consistency, and deliciousness is undeniable. I’ve been fortunate enough to have visited both of their beautiful, awe-inspiring campuses over the past few years and to say the experiences are life-changing for a small brewer is an understatement. Each sip takes me back and renews my gratitude to be a part of this industry and community.” — Joel Kodner, Head Brewer, West Palm Brewery, West Palm Beach, Fla.

“These days, I find myself drawn by session beers in general. Currently I am drinking Verdant Brewing Co.’s Lightbulb. I think this beer is one of the true bridge builders between modern and postmodern beer. It embodies many of the fruity elements that the NEIPAs have come to symbolize but with a remarkably low ABV for the style, and body enough to keep you interested.” — Søren Parker Wagner, Founder, Dry & Bitter Brewing Company, Copenhagen, Denmark

“Recently I have been getting reacquainted with Adnams, and in particular, Broadside. It’s autumn down here, and lockdown means time to cook up hearty dishes that scream out for this fruity malty masterpiece. I’m not sure I get the whiff of the salty sea air that Roger Protz once romantically tasted in the Adnams beers, but it does taste like Christmas cake, and spiked prunes. Delicious.” — Kieran Haslett-Moore, Head Brewer, North End Brewery, Waikanae, New Zealand

“During quarantine, I’ve mainly been supporting local breweries but I recently bought four bottles of Orval, and it reminded me why it’s always on lists like these. It’s appropriate for any mood or occasion. I had one right out of the bottle while grilling in my backyard and I served it in flutes on my wedding anniversary because I didn’t have any Champagne handy. It was perfect both times. Like a Pixar movie, Orval can be enjoyed on multiple levels. On the surface, it’s a simple, balanced beer that you don’t have to think about to enjoy. But, if you do feel like thinking about it, there’s so much to appreciate. It’s one of the few beers to truly showcase each ingredient — water, malt, hops, yeast. They are all there in perfect balance, but somehow each stands out on their own. It’s all elevated by a prickly carbonation from the secondary fermentation in the bottle, which also gives it a nearly unlimited shelf life. A perfect beer for any occasion that lasts forever — what else could you ask for in a quarantine beer?” — Michael Graham, Co-Founder, Austin Beer Works, Austin, Texas

“The lockdown situation has made us anxious to linger in the supermarkets perusing the craft beers on offer (usually Scottish or behemoth, no in-between) and with no local speciality shops, we’ve been enjoying ordering from similar-size breweries. So rather than relying on classics we’re delving head first into trying completely new things. The communal hashtag #CraftBeerHour has introduced us to so many small breweries all over the place and we’ve been loving having weekly care packages arriving. Most recently, Simon was sent a case of Belgian goodies from his family including his all-time fave Orval and my all-time fave Tripel Karmeliet, which are undeniable classics… but I’ve been getting stuck into everything I can get my hands on, from The Wild Beer Co. and Brass Castle. Next on the wish list is The Kernel. It’s a pain living hours away from any real beer scene, but we’re hoping things are changing and everyone is really pulling together at the moment and which we’ll truly applaud. Slàinte!” — Freja MacDougall, Co-founder, Ben Nevis Brewery, Glenfinnan, Scotland

“Jaipur is one of my favorite beers. It’s always been a safe port in a storm and one of the beers that really changed the game for me. Back in my Marble Brewery days, myself and fellow brewer Dom Driscoll spent quite a lot of time hanging out with Kelly Ryan, who was head brewer at Thornbridge at the time, and I remember them trialing early keg batches when everything around us was in cask, it felt like a giant step for both the beer and the U.K. scene… But the cask will always be my love. The body, honey notes, bitterness, and citrus notes all present in exact amounts for perfect balance to occur. There are a lot of happy memories in that beer and I’m sure there will be many more.” — Colin Stronge, Head Brewer, SALT Beer Factory, Saltaire, U.K.

“In the midst of all the new breweries and beers hitting the market these days, looking back at classic craft brews is not a bad idea. The first De Dolle Brouwers (DDB) beer I had was the revered Stille Nacht (around 2005). However, my favorites of theirs are probably Arabier and Oerbier. But, it is springtime, so I’ll go for the Arabier today. Arabier pours a beautiful pale orange with a frothing, white foam. The nose is estery, herbal, citrusy, floral, and messy in that beautiful DDB way. Tripel meets a strong Belgian pale, you could say. Well attenuated (but certainly not anorectic) and perfectly carbonated (high!). I love the integration of light fruity notes, herbal/grapefruit hoppy goodness, and a firm, rounded bitterness that coats my entire mouth. This beer represents what is so great about Belgian brewing: Brewers do whatever they want (I am sure there is a Flemish word for “f*ck rigid beer style guidelines”). I was lucky enough to visit DDB for the first time earlier this year, fell in love with the 100-plus-year-old brewhouse, and can’t wait to go back. Kris and Els are running a magical and uniquely personal place. But please don’t tell anyone — we want to keep it that way!” — Rune Lindgreen, Beer Developer & Ambassador, People Like Us, Copenhagen, Denmark

“One of my favorite breweries is Pizza Port. I grew up down in Orange County [Calif.] and was introduced to them when I came down to San Diego for a marathon in 1999. I loved the pizza and brewery vibe in Solana Beach and have been a fan ever since. In more recent years, I have been fortunate to pour beers at the same festivals, connect with their brewers and sales staff (hi, Jill!) and visit their San Clemente spot a few times a year while visiting friends and meeting with our sales team and distributors down there. My go-to Pizza Port beer is Swami’s IPA. It’s a classic West Coast IPA that instantly brings me back to beach town vibes. Swami’s is vacation mode in glass. I was fortunate enough to secure a sixtel for my home kegerator just as we were entering this new normal of sheltering in place. Suffice to say it did not last long, and I’m once again longing for my next pint of Swami’s IPA!” — Phil Cutti, Co-founder & Brewer, Headlands Brewing Co., San Francisco

“Right now I’ve got a triple-decocted Czech Pils from Notch in my glass and it’s absolutely gorgeous. When I’m brewing something similar, I try to seek out fresh (local) versions of the style. I love trying what my peers are putting out and learning from it, especially when it’s clean, crisp, and delightfully nuanced like this Pils!” — Gordon Whelpley, Head Brewer, Twelve Percent Beer Project, North Haven, Conn.

“To be honest, I have been drinking a lot of lagers that fall out of the craft category, or some by craft breweries as they try to introduce more of the style into their portfolios, but as one-offs do not fit into the classic category, either. However, if we were to discuss craft classics, there is one I always have in my cellar, and that is Orval. Orval is like the Kinder Egg of beers, because every bottle you open is a surprise. For each pour it feels like a different and exciting experience, and I can never figure out the precise age in which I prefer it, though I can definitely appreciate it fresh with the DH being present as well as an older, more Brett-forward version. And regardless, it is always delicious and will always warm my heart, quench my thirst, and bring a big smile to my face. When in doubt, Orval <3.” — Mariana Schneider, Brewer, Amager Bryghus, Copenhagen, Denmark

The article We Asked 11 Brewers: What Classic Craft Beer Are You Drinking Right Now? appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/11-best-classic-craft-beers/

[johnboothus]

We Asked 11 Brewers: What Classic Craft Beer Are You Drinking Right Now?

With the majority of the world under varying degrees of lockdown as governments attempt to combat the devastating effects of the novel coronavirus and subsequent Covid-19 pandemic, many beer drinkers are seeking comfort, relaxation, and familiarity in their beer choices.

Whether it takes the form of drinking your cellar, raiding the stash of bottles squirreled away for a rainy day, or returning to old, familiar classics, brewers and beer consumers alike are looking for the liquid form of pulling on your favorite sweatpants, but in a pint glass, bottle, or can.

From the OG Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, to beloved Belgian stalwart Orval, here’s what 11 brewers around the world are reaching for during this scary time.

“I’ve been getting down with some Ska Brewing True Blonde Ale. Crisp and delicious, this low-ABV classic American blonde is perfect for an all-day drinking session, especially with the weather in Denver warming up. It has also been helping in quarantine to help feel connected to some of my favorite homies. Ska has been one of my favorite breweries for the last 13 years and the people there are some of the nicest and most modest in the industry. Cracking this beer brings me back to anniversary parties of years past, skanking in the parking lot to some legendary ska bands, celebrating with friends that are more like family. I can’t wait for the day when I can make the trek back down to Durango to dance, hug, and crack a cold one with all of the rude boys and girls of the ska fam.” — Bess Dougherty, Head Brewer, Grateful Gnome Sandwich Shoppe and Brewery, Denver

“The classic craft beer I’m currently drinking is Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. The quality, consistency, and deliciousness is undeniable. I’ve been fortunate enough to have visited both of their beautiful, awe-inspiring campuses over the past few years and to say the experiences are life-changing for a small brewer is an understatement. Each sip takes me back and renews my gratitude to be a part of this industry and community.” — Joel Kodner, Head Brewer, West Palm Brewery, West Palm Beach, Fla.

“These days, I find myself drawn by session beers in general. Currently I am drinking Verdant Brewing Co.’s Lightbulb. I think this beer is one of the true bridge builders between modern and postmodern beer. It embodies many of the fruity elements that the NEIPAs have come to symbolize but with a remarkably low ABV for the style, and body enough to keep you interested.” — Søren Parker Wagner, Founder, Dry & Bitter Brewing Company, Copenhagen, Denmark

“Recently I have been getting reacquainted with Adnams, and in particular, Broadside. It’s autumn down here, and lockdown means time to cook up hearty dishes that scream out for this fruity malty masterpiece. I’m not sure I get the whiff of the salty sea air that Roger Protz once romantically tasted in the Adnams beers, but it does taste like Christmas cake, and spiked prunes. Delicious.” — Kieran Haslett-Moore, Head Brewer, North End Brewery, Waikanae, New Zealand

“During quarantine, I’ve mainly been supporting local breweries but I recently bought four bottles of Orval, and it reminded me why it’s always on lists like these. It’s appropriate for any mood or occasion. I had one right out of the bottle while grilling in my backyard and I served it in flutes on my wedding anniversary because I didn’t have any Champagne handy. It was perfect both times. Like a Pixar movie, Orval can be enjoyed on multiple levels. On the surface, it’s a simple, balanced beer that you don’t have to think about to enjoy. But, if you do feel like thinking about it, there’s so much to appreciate. It’s one of the few beers to truly showcase each ingredient — water, malt, hops, yeast. They are all there in perfect balance, but somehow each stands out on their own. It’s all elevated by a prickly carbonation from the secondary fermentation in the bottle, which also gives it a nearly unlimited shelf life. A perfect beer for any occasion that lasts forever — what else could you ask for in a quarantine beer?” — Michael Graham, Co-Founder, Austin Beer Works, Austin, Texas

“The lockdown situation has made us anxious to linger in the supermarkets perusing the craft beers on offer (usually Scottish or behemoth, no in-between) and with no local speciality shops, we’ve been enjoying ordering from similar-size breweries. So rather than relying on classics we’re delving head first into trying completely new things. The communal hashtag #CraftBeerHour has introduced us to so many small breweries all over the place and we’ve been loving having weekly care packages arriving. Most recently, Simon was sent a case of Belgian goodies from his family including his all-time fave Orval and my all-time fave Tripel Karmeliet, which are undeniable classics… but I’ve been getting stuck into everything I can get my hands on, from The Wild Beer Co. and Brass Castle. Next on the wish list is The Kernel. It’s a pain living hours away from any real beer scene, but we’re hoping things are changing and everyone is really pulling together at the moment and which we’ll truly applaud. Slàinte!” — Freja MacDougall, Co-founder, Ben Nevis Brewery, Glenfinnan, Scotland

“Jaipur is one of my favorite beers. It’s always been a safe port in a storm and one of the beers that really changed the game for me. Back in my Marble Brewery days, myself and fellow brewer Dom Driscoll spent quite a lot of time hanging out with Kelly Ryan, who was head brewer at Thornbridge at the time, and I remember them trialing early keg batches when everything around us was in cask, it felt like a giant step for both the beer and the U.K. scene… But the cask will always be my love. The body, honey notes, bitterness, and citrus notes all present in exact amounts for perfect balance to occur. There are a lot of happy memories in that beer and I’m sure there will be many more.” — Colin Stronge, Head Brewer, SALT Beer Factory, Saltaire, U.K.

“In the midst of all the new breweries and beers hitting the market these days, looking back at classic craft brews is not a bad idea. The first De Dolle Brouwers (DDB) beer I had was the revered Stille Nacht (around 2005). However, my favorites of theirs are probably Arabier and Oerbier. But, it is springtime, so I’ll go for the Arabier today. Arabier pours a beautiful pale orange with a frothing, white foam. The nose is estery, herbal, citrusy, floral, and messy in that beautiful DDB way. Tripel meets a strong Belgian pale, you could say. Well attenuated (but certainly not anorectic) and perfectly carbonated (high!). I love the integration of light fruity notes, herbal/grapefruit hoppy goodness, and a firm, rounded bitterness that coats my entire mouth. This beer represents what is so great about Belgian brewing: Brewers do whatever they want (I am sure there is a Flemish word for “f*ck rigid beer style guidelines”). I was lucky enough to visit DDB for the first time earlier this year, fell in love with the 100-plus-year-old brewhouse, and can’t wait to go back. Kris and Els are running a magical and uniquely personal place. But please don’t tell anyone — we want to keep it that way!” — Rune Lindgreen, Beer Developer & Ambassador, People Like Us, Copenhagen, Denmark

“One of my favorite breweries is Pizza Port. I grew up down in Orange County [Calif.] and was introduced to them when I came down to San Diego for a marathon in 1999. I loved the pizza and brewery vibe in Solana Beach and have been a fan ever since. In more recent years, I have been fortunate to pour beers at the same festivals, connect with their brewers and sales staff (hi, Jill!) and visit their San Clemente spot a few times a year while visiting friends and meeting with our sales team and distributors down there. My go-to Pizza Port beer is Swami’s IPA. It’s a classic West Coast IPA that instantly brings me back to beach town vibes. Swami’s is vacation mode in glass. I was fortunate enough to secure a sixtel for my home kegerator just as we were entering this new normal of sheltering in place. Suffice to say it did not last long, and I’m once again longing for my next pint of Swami’s IPA!” — Phil Cutti, Co-founder & Brewer, Headlands Brewing Co., San Francisco

“Right now I’ve got a triple-decocted Czech Pils from Notch in my glass and it’s absolutely gorgeous. When I’m brewing something similar, I try to seek out fresh (local) versions of the style. I love trying what my peers are putting out and learning from it, especially when it’s clean, crisp, and delightfully nuanced like this Pils!” — Gordon Whelpley, Head Brewer, Twelve Percent Beer Project, North Haven, Conn.

“To be honest, I have been drinking a lot of lagers that fall out of the craft category, or some by craft breweries as they try to introduce more of the style into their portfolios, but as one-offs do not fit into the classic category, either. However, if we were to discuss craft classics, there is one I always have in my cellar, and that is Orval. Orval is like the Kinder Egg of beers, because every bottle you open is a surprise. For each pour it feels like a different and exciting experience, and I can never figure out the precise age in which I prefer it, though I can definitely appreciate it fresh with the DH being present as well as an older, more Brett-forward version. And regardless, it is always delicious and will always warm my heart, quench my thirst, and bring a big smile to my face. When in doubt, Orval <3.” — Mariana Schneider, Brewer, Amager Bryghus, Copenhagen, Denmark

The article We Asked 11 Brewers: What Classic Craft Beer Are You Drinking Right Now? appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/11-best-classic-craft-beers/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/we-asked-11-brewers-what-classic-craft-beer-are-you-drinking-right-now

[isaiahrippinus]

We Asked 11 Brewers: What Classic Craft Beer Are You Drinking Right Now?

With the majority of the world under varying degrees of lockdown as governments attempt to combat the devastating effects of the novel coronavirus and subsequent Covid-19 pandemic, many beer drinkers are seeking comfort, relaxation, and familiarity in their beer choices.

Whether it takes the form of drinking your cellar, raiding the stash of bottles squirreled away for a rainy day, or returning to old, familiar classics, brewers and beer consumers alike are looking for the liquid form of pulling on your favorite sweatpants, but in a pint glass, bottle, or can.

From the OG Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, to beloved Belgian stalwart Orval, here’s what 11 brewers around the world are reaching for during this scary time.

“I’ve been getting down with some Ska Brewing True Blonde Ale. Crisp and delicious, this low-ABV classic American blonde is perfect for an all-day drinking session, especially with the weather in Denver warming up. It has also been helping in quarantine to help feel connected to some of my favorite homies. Ska has been one of my favorite breweries for the last 13 years and the people there are some of the nicest and most modest in the industry. Cracking this beer brings me back to anniversary parties of years past, skanking in the parking lot to some legendary ska bands, celebrating with friends that are more like family. I can’t wait for the day when I can make the trek back down to Durango to dance, hug, and crack a cold one with all of the rude boys and girls of the ska fam.” — Bess Dougherty, Head Brewer, Grateful Gnome Sandwich Shoppe and Brewery, Denver

“The classic craft beer I’m currently drinking is Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. The quality, consistency, and deliciousness is undeniable. I’ve been fortunate enough to have visited both of their beautiful, awe-inspiring campuses over the past few years and to say the experiences are life-changing for a small brewer is an understatement. Each sip takes me back and renews my gratitude to be a part of this industry and community.” — Joel Kodner, Head Brewer, West Palm Brewery, West Palm Beach, Fla.

“These days, I find myself drawn by session beers in general. Currently I am drinking Verdant Brewing Co.’s Lightbulb. I think this beer is one of the true bridge builders between modern and postmodern beer. It embodies many of the fruity elements that the NEIPAs have come to symbolize but with a remarkably low ABV for the style, and body enough to keep you interested.” — Søren Parker Wagner, Founder, Dry & Bitter Brewing Company, Copenhagen, Denmark

“Recently I have been getting reacquainted with Adnams, and in particular, Broadside. It’s autumn down here, and lockdown means time to cook up hearty dishes that scream out for this fruity malty masterpiece. I’m not sure I get the whiff of the salty sea air that Roger Protz once romantically tasted in the Adnams beers, but it does taste like Christmas cake, and spiked prunes. Delicious.” — Kieran Haslett-Moore, Head Brewer, North End Brewery, Waikanae, New Zealand

“During quarantine, I’ve mainly been supporting local breweries but I recently bought four bottles of Orval, and it reminded me why it’s always on lists like these. It’s appropriate for any mood or occasion. I had one right out of the bottle while grilling in my backyard and I served it in flutes on my wedding anniversary because I didn’t have any Champagne handy. It was perfect both times. Like a Pixar movie, Orval can be enjoyed on multiple levels. On the surface, it’s a simple, balanced beer that you don’t have to think about to enjoy. But, if you do feel like thinking about it, there’s so much to appreciate. It’s one of the few beers to truly showcase each ingredient — water, malt, hops, yeast. They are all there in perfect balance, but somehow each stands out on their own. It’s all elevated by a prickly carbonation from the secondary fermentation in the bottle, which also gives it a nearly unlimited shelf life. A perfect beer for any occasion that lasts forever — what else could you ask for in a quarantine beer?” — Michael Graham, Co-Founder, Austin Beer Works, Austin, Texas

“The lockdown situation has made us anxious to linger in the supermarkets perusing the craft beers on offer (usually Scottish or behemoth, no in-between) and with no local speciality shops, we’ve been enjoying ordering from similar-size breweries. So rather than relying on classics we’re delving head first into trying completely new things. The communal hashtag #CraftBeerHour has introduced us to so many small breweries all over the place and we’ve been loving having weekly care packages arriving. Most recently, Simon was sent a case of Belgian goodies from his family including his all-time fave Orval and my all-time fave Tripel Karmeliet, which are undeniable classics… but I’ve been getting stuck into everything I can get my hands on, from The Wild Beer Co. and Brass Castle. Next on the wish list is The Kernel. It’s a pain living hours away from any real beer scene, but we’re hoping things are changing and everyone is really pulling together at the moment and which we’ll truly applaud. Slàinte!” — Freja MacDougall, Co-founder, Ben Nevis Brewery, Glenfinnan, Scotland

“Jaipur is one of my favorite beers. It’s always been a safe port in a storm and one of the beers that really changed the game for me. Back in my Marble Brewery days, myself and fellow brewer Dom Driscoll spent quite a lot of time hanging out with Kelly Ryan, who was head brewer at Thornbridge at the time, and I remember them trialing early keg batches when everything around us was in cask, it felt like a giant step for both the beer and the U.K. scene… But the cask will always be my love. The body, honey notes, bitterness, and citrus notes all present in exact amounts for perfect balance to occur. There are a lot of happy memories in that beer and I’m sure there will be many more.” — Colin Stronge, Head Brewer, SALT Beer Factory, Saltaire, U.K.

“In the midst of all the new breweries and beers hitting the market these days, looking back at classic craft brews is not a bad idea. The first De Dolle Brouwers (DDB) beer I had was the revered Stille Nacht (around 2005). However, my favorites of theirs are probably Arabier and Oerbier. But, it is springtime, so I’ll go for the Arabier today. Arabier pours a beautiful pale orange with a frothing, white foam. The nose is estery, herbal, citrusy, floral, and messy in that beautiful DDB way. Tripel meets a strong Belgian pale, you could say. Well attenuated (but certainly not anorectic) and perfectly carbonated (high!). I love the integration of light fruity notes, herbal/grapefruit hoppy goodness, and a firm, rounded bitterness that coats my entire mouth. This beer represents what is so great about Belgian brewing: Brewers do whatever they want (I am sure there is a Flemish word for “f*ck rigid beer style guidelines”). I was lucky enough to visit DDB for the first time earlier this year, fell in love with the 100-plus-year-old brewhouse, and can’t wait to go back. Kris and Els are running a magical and uniquely personal place. But please don’t tell anyone — we want to keep it that way!” — Rune Lindgreen, Beer Developer & Ambassador, People Like Us, Copenhagen, Denmark

“One of my favorite breweries is Pizza Port. I grew up down in Orange County [Calif.] and was introduced to them when I came down to San Diego for a marathon in 1999. I loved the pizza and brewery vibe in Solana Beach and have been a fan ever since. In more recent years, I have been fortunate to pour beers at the same festivals, connect with their brewers and sales staff (hi, Jill!) and visit their San Clemente spot a few times a year while visiting friends and meeting with our sales team and distributors down there. My go-to Pizza Port beer is Swami’s IPA. It’s a classic West Coast IPA that instantly brings me back to beach town vibes. Swami’s is vacation mode in glass. I was fortunate enough to secure a sixtel for my home kegerator just as we were entering this new normal of sheltering in place. Suffice to say it did not last long, and I’m once again longing for my next pint of Swami’s IPA!” — Phil Cutti, Co-founder & Brewer, Headlands Brewing Co., San Francisco

“Right now I’ve got a triple-decocted Czech Pils from Notch in my glass and it’s absolutely gorgeous. When I’m brewing something similar, I try to seek out fresh (local) versions of the style. I love trying what my peers are putting out and learning from it, especially when it’s clean, crisp, and delightfully nuanced like this Pils!” — Gordon Whelpley, Head Brewer, Twelve Percent Beer Project, North Haven, Conn.

“To be honest, I have been drinking a lot of lagers that fall out of the craft category, or some by craft breweries as they try to introduce more of the style into their portfolios, but as one-offs do not fit into the classic category, either. However, if we were to discuss craft classics, there is one I always have in my cellar, and that is Orval. Orval is like the Kinder Egg of beers, because every bottle you open is a surprise. For each pour it feels like a different and exciting experience, and I can never figure out the precise age in which I prefer it, though I can definitely appreciate it fresh with the DH being present as well as an older, more Brett-forward version. And regardless, it is always delicious and will always warm my heart, quench my thirst, and bring a big smile to my face. When in doubt, Orval <3.” — Mariana Schneider, Brewer, Amager Bryghus, Copenhagen, Denmark

The article We Asked 11 Brewers: What Classic Craft Beer Are You Drinking Right Now? appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/11-best-classic-craft-beers/ source https://vinology1.tumblr.com/post/618640234697080832