#for reference this has been in a random cabinet at my job as long as i've worked there

[hippy-pants]

well, my Valentine's Day was a bust. at least i get to spend the night with my one true love 🥰🤭...

...Christmas Vacation chocolate coin... 🥴🥴🥴

#guys he's so cute what should i do? 🤭😍 #for reference this has been in a random cabinet at my job as long as i've worked there #idk where it came from #pretyy hot though right? 😏😏 #mine

[hadassah4ever]

lukas matsson x f!reader smut

warnings: decent age gap, reader has no survival instincts for plot convenience, no protection, and the fact that i haven’t written smut in such a long time, i feel like it’s not the best, but 👍👍

word count: 1,430

minors dni pls

The night was frankly, very boring.

Strolling around and seeing the art pieces that made you realize that you might’ve flushed $50,000 down the drain, but at least you got some good complimentary cocktails and horderves.

“You look bored out of your mind.” A man whispered in your ear from behind, almost making you look like a cat jumping away from a cucumber.

“I don’t like this bullshit… ‘cum on a canvas and call it a painting’ stuff either, it’s emotionle—“

“Technically it’s eliciting emotions from you by making you hate it. But maybe that’s just the art school in me.” You shrugged, turning to see a tall, blonde haired blue eyed man.

“Arts school? On daddy’s dime, huh?” He teased. “I wish.” You softly chuckled, shaking your head.

“Hm. Not a rich girl?” He asked. “I would’ve thought you were. Normally poor people don’t throw $50,000 into the trash like that.” He joked. “I have passion! I’m a starving artist!” You replied, softly chuckling and playfully rolled your eyes, not too offended at his teasing. “How’d you get in here? No offence, but I thought that looking at usele— very… meaningful, modern art was a rich person thing?” He asked, seeming genuinely more curious than insulting or gatekeepy, like most of the people here.

“They invited a student with a referral from their professor. And I was referred by my professor.” You answered. “What an insult.” He joked, you tried to shake your head and jokingly roll your eyes to dodge all of the tiny comments that made you slowly realize more and more you should’ve gone to business school, like your cousin.

“You just hate my future profession, don’t you?” You teased back. “Well, it’s the job that makes parents slowly nod and say ‘ahhh…’, so.” He shrugged, a smug smile on his face like he knew you were gonna laugh. “Ugh, I hate how true that is. I just wanna get out of here as soon as possible. It’s not boring, just terrifying.”

“You could get out of here with me.” He quickly replied, realizing he sounded way too eager. “I don’t even know your name.” You replied, coyly smiling. “Is that the only thing stopping you?” He asked. You shrugged. “I’m Lukas Matsson.” He spoke. “Now, do you wanna leave?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes playfully and chuckle at that. He was cornier than he let on.

“You intrigue me. Sure.” You don’t think he’d have the gall to murder you or something after being so chatty in the decency crowded gallery, so what did you really have to lose?

You knew something was up when he rubbed your knee in the car. And the way he kept glancing at your tits. And giving you “fuck me” eyes.

“You’re alright with coming to my apartment right? No pressure.” He spoke, not seeming to just be covering his bases, but actually not putting too much pressure on you. “Sure, what else do I have to lose?” You joked, he softly smirked and told the driver his address.

You should’ve been aware about the fact that he could’ve been rich, but he dressed so casually, and not just the “hello fellow peasants, I am like you” kind of casual the way most rich people dress, but he was in a really nice part of town.

——

“Down for some random wine that people give me?” He asked, going into his wine cabinet, using his fingers to browse through several wines that would probably be a month's worth of rent for you, at the very least. “Gonna wine and dine me before taking me to pound town?” You joked, and as you silently cursed yourself for saying “pound town”, he chuckled.

“No, I’m just gonna wine you.” He answered, catching you off guard but still enjoying the banter. “So pound town is a non negotiable?” You joked. “Nah, we can negotiate that.” You didn’t know if he really cared this much about your consent or if he was just not trying to catch a case, maybe both, but you’d take it anyways. So far, he cared more about your consent than any person you’ve been with beforehand. Maybe you’d need to sign an NDA.

“I mean, if it’s a good journey to pound town, then I agree, but if I’m just gonna be a vessel, no thanks.” You teased, he softly laughed, picking out a bottle of wine and standing up. “I’ll make sure it’s enjoyable then.”

“Then I’m definitely aboard.” You softly chuckled, glancing at the ground and then glancing back up, Mattsson standing right in front of you, immediately leaning forward and kissing you, placing the bottle of wine on the marble counter with a soft clink.

His hands squeezed your ass, his semi-hard cock grazing against you, his hand found his way to your clit, rubbing it in somewhat rough circles, before stopping and his hand diving into your underwear, his slim fingers opening up your folds and feeling around for your slick, satisfied he grumbled a quiet, “So fuckin’ wet for me.”

“Could we move to the sofa?” You softly asked, snapping him out of his own head. “Huh? Oh yeah.” He answered, both of you scrambled to his couch, as you laid down, he placed his head between your thighs, his hands held your hips before his fingers dipped underneath the fabric of your panties, pulling them off your legs.

“You don’t seem like the guy who’s ready to eat a girl out at a moment's notice.” You flirtatiously teased, he paused for a second before breaking the brief silence with, “Not just any girl.” A similarly teasing smile but a slight, genuine look in his eyes.

That really shut you up, as you leaned back down, his mouth softly sucking your clit, his tongue and lips working together, his fingers moved around as he tried to find your entrance, quickly finding it, they dove in. You tried to resist the urge to clamp your thighs around his head, his beard softly scratching you as he ate you out, throwing your head back and moaning, you shut your eyes hard.

He was too damn good at this.

Within a few minutes he had you softly moaning about how you were about to cum, his mouth worked harder and his fingers thrusted in and out of you quicker, having you unravel faster than you ever have, he still worked his mouth and fingers even when your thighs squeezed the sides of his face, having you shaking.

He quickly pulled his head away from your core, the imprint of his cock ready to burst out from his boxer briefs. He slid them off quickly and you were a bit wary, his size was definitely gonna teeter on uncomfortable, and it was probably gonna stretch you a bit, little veins running up it, the pink tip leaking already. He opened your knees up once again and lined himself up with your entrance, “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, ‘kay?” He spoke, after you nodded he slowly eased himself inside of you and to your surprise and delight, his size actually worked well fully inside of you.

“It’s good?” He asked, trying to suppress a groan. “Amazing.” You answered, he nodded and started to thrust inside of you, his cock curving upwards and hitting the deep, pleasurable bits inside you, he grunted and moved his fingers to your clit again, his hand resting on your pelvis as his thumb worked in circles, getting into the rhythm of it, he was eventually pounding into you, now using both of his hands to keep himself steady.

It was like a haze surrounded you, gripping onto his couch cushions and arching your back warned him of your impending orgasm, he noticed your inability to just sit still and take his cock, his hands pushed your hips down and continued to nail into you relentlessly, without any further notice, you constricted and finished around him, your breathing became shaky and every limb in your body felt like it was vibrating as he pulled out and came on your stomach, an impressive amount of warm cum hitting just underneath your belly button. His face looked like he just met god and his breathing became shaky as yours started to even out.

“Jesus.” He spoke under his breath. “Hardly anyone has been able to take me like that.” He muttered.

“Might have to pay for your tuition.” He added, in a tone you didn’t know whether or not it was a joke.

Maybe it wasn’t.

——

a/n: lukas definitely has feelings for the reader and i’d be willing to maybe add onto this if enough people want that.

#lukas matsson x reader #lukas mattsson x reader #succession x y/n #succession x you #succession x reader #alexander skarsgard x reader

[strawwritesfic]

Thor Odinson x Female!Midgardian!Reader: (Closet) Pervert

Summary: It’s easy to forget that Thor still hasn’t figured out every aspect of Midgardian living yet.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (implications of a home break-in; derogatory references to 50 Shades of Grey (but not BDSM by extension); crack-adjacent humor; bras; not canon compliant; referenced Thor & Sif friendship)

Challenge: “100 Drabbles of Randomness” by Miseria1 on Lunaescence Archives.

(Closet) Pervert

"Thor?” you called as you entered your house, late after work and not expecting another one of your fiancé’s unannounced visits. Only ringing silence answered, so you tried again: “Thor? Are you here?”

If he was hiding, he clearly hadn’t thought his plan through. Nothing said “THOR WAS HERE” better than the nice set of “crop circles” he made on your lawn whenever he jumped to Earth. Not even one of Tony’s ostentatious cars could do the job better. Thor was being awfully quiet, though. He made no noise at all while you hung your coat up by the door and wandered into the kitchen.

“Thor? Are you here? Hiding isn’t funny.” Had he gone into town? No, surely not. Thor was, if nothing else, very chivalrous. He’d have picked you up from work at the very least. “Seriously, Thor. I just spent all day trying to work out a plea deal for a murderer. I don’t want to play hide-and-seek.”

But Thor, if he was in the house at all, didn’t answer. You grumbled as you opened up your pantry. Well, if he did decide to turn up, he’d be hungry, and you’d be damned if you stayed up much longer to cook him dinner.

THUMP! CRASH! BANG! BANG! THUMP!

You nearly jumped out of your skin and the can of corn in your hands hit the ground with an resounding clang. For several seconds, you listened to your heart beat and your breath catch as you leaned against one of the cabinets and waited for the sound to come again.

Such a loud sound did not repeat itself, but from upstairs you continued to hear muffled thumping, crashing, and banging. You reached under the kitchen sink and grabbed the baseball bat you kept underneath it. Your super-powered fiancé might have been MIA, and there might have been someone in your house, but no way were you going down without a fight.

“Hello?” you said from the bottom of the stairs.

No response. Instead, the sounds paused for a split second, then started anew.

“Fine. Be that way. I’m coming up there. But I warn you: I’m armed!”

Doing the work you did, making enemies instead of friends was a given. You’d heard plenty of stories about your predecessors having dealings on the outside with angry clients and defendants alike. The guy who came before you died under suspicious circumstances. Slowly, you walked up the stairs with your fingers wrapped all the more tightly around your bat.

The sounds were coming from your room. As you reached the landing, you could see that your door was ajar and the lights were on. Whoever was waiting for you, they weren’t really going for subtle. Before you could convince yourself to back away and call the police, you threw the door the rest of the way open so hard that it banged against the wall as you leapt inside the room.

“Drop whatever is in your hands!” you shouted.

The cacophony stopped at once. You opened your mouth to issue another command, but the intruder backed out of your closet and looked at you before you could.

“[Name]!” he cried.

“Thor?”

Too late to ask questions. He had already wrapped his arms around you in a great bear hug.

“[Name]! I am so pleased to see you. It has been too long. I was worried perhaps you would never come home.”

“I was at work, Thor. What–Why are you in my closet?”

He released you and walked back toward the closet, motioning for you to follow him. You crossed your arms and did so.

“I found something…strange,” he said.

“What were you even doing in here to begin with? Thor, if you were sniffing anything, I swear to God I am going to kill Loki for lending you that copy of 50 Shades of Gray.”

“I would never do anything so uncouth as what the Midgardians in that story did without your asking me to do so. I simply opened the closet door to let the cat out.”

Your cat did have a penchant of getting stuck inside the closet. All the same:

“Okay, but what was all that bumping when I got home? What’d you find in here? A frog?”

“No…this!”

 You knew Thor was bright. You knew it with every fiber of your being. Just because he didn’t understand a lot of Earth things didn’t mean he was dumb. Jeez was it difficult to remind yourself of that sometimes.

“Thor, that’s my bra.”

He lifted the skin-colored material closer to his face and scratched his chin. “So it is yours and not something I should be concerned about?”

“Yes.” You snatched it away. “And paws off the merchandise!”

“I am sorry. I only meant to protect you.”

“Yeah. You did a great job protecting me from lingerie. You’ve seriously never seen one of these before?”

He shook his head.

“Wait…You mean that Sif doesn’t wear a bra?”

“Sif wears armor that befits her dignity and strength. She has no need of these…items.”

You sighed and waggled the bra on one finger. “It supports my breasts, Thor. I’m thinking that whatever it is Sif gets up to on a daily basis, she probably needs one more than me.”

Thor brightened immediately. “Should I get one for her, then? As a present?”

“No!” you said hastily. “God, no. Please don’t. And if you do, please don’t say it was my idea.”

“All right, all right. No bras. But are breasts really that difficult to hold up?”

“They’re heavier than they–” You broke off in a choking blush. “No. I’m not having this conversation with you. It’s nearly ten o’ clock, and I’m hungry. Let’s just go down to the kitchen and make dinner.”

“A wonderful idea.”

 You led Thor out of the bedroom and back down the stairs. For a moment, you thought everything was going to be okay--until he paused in the doorway and murmured:

"You know, I think those books Loki lent me did mention something about bras.”

Future brother-in-law or not, you were going to kill him.

#fan fic #straw writes #reader insert #second person pov #thor #thor odinson #avengers #marvel #mcu #one shot #challenge fic #thor x reader #thor x you #thor x y/n #thor odinson x reader #thor odinson x you #thor odinson x y/n #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x y/n #mcu x you #mcu x y/n #mcu x reader #avengesr x reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n

[izukuwus]

As Long As You’re Here (I Will Live Like This)

A/N: day 14 of @birds-have-teeth​‘s Izumonth collab. little incoherent rn last editing pass probably missed something pls be nice to me. title references the song Twelve Feet Deep by The Front Bottoms.

Summary: Your boyfriend comes to your house one day bleeding profusely. You pick up the pieces and chat about the future. (vigilante!Izuku x reader)

Warnings: some blood/wounds, a non-explicit level of injury + the ensuing first aid

Word count: 2700+

Logically speaking, you know Izuku is up to something when he's not with you. He's accident prone beyond the limits of accident prone. You honestly can't recall the last time you saw him where you didn't notice a new bruise or cut on him. The bruises can be explained easily—he's told you before he takes martial arts classes, he's taught you plenty a thing about self-defense so that's easy to believe, but the cuts?

You have to wonder whether his martial arts classes involve disarming each other with real knives.

The first time you noticed how deep his propensity to injury really went, he had a poorly-bandaged cut over his eyebrow that, sure, scarred up prettily (you'd be lying if you said it didn't make him ten times hotter), but was deep enough that you know it should've gotten stitches, even if he insisted on having just your help in the matter.

That was somewhere in the realm of eighteen months ago.

Tonight, he comes to see you after one of his classes and promptly almost collapses in your doorway, which is infinitely less concerning in light of the fact that he's bleeding all over your fucking carpet. Honestly, at first you don't recognize him. He's got on a hoodie you've never seen him wear before, a cheap mask tied around his eyes, and you almost call the cops before you recognize the tufts of green hair poking out of his hood and then the hoodie itself.

"Holy shit, Izuku" leaves your mouth somewhat before your brain catches up to the fact that you're not just looking at your boyfriend of looking at the vigilante Jackrabbit that's been giving both cops and local pro heroes hell for ages, not to mention the villains. No one could ever seem to figure out his quirk, either, so they couldn't track down the vigilante via the quirk registry, which makes a hell of a lot of sense when compared with that fact that your boyfriend is quirkless.

"S-sorry," he coughs, flashing you a brilliant smile as you pull his hands away from his abdomen. "My base was a bit too far. Didn't mean for you to find out like this. C-can I ask you for some first aid?"

"Okay, okay, okay, just... come on, let me get you to my bathroom so you don't bleed on absolutely everything. Can you walk a bit further for me?"

He nods, biting his lip, and you loop his arm over your shoulder to support him on his way, kicking your door shut behind him.

"Take your hoodie and shirt off and hold this to the wound while I get ready," you order, sitting him down on your toilet and shoving a random towel at him. You rifle through your cabinets for your first aid kit, muttering mostly to yourself. "Honestly, you're lucky I've got a healing quirk and I love you."

"I love you too," he groans, shifting in his seat.

"Stop talking. We can talk about your 'martial arts classes' when I'm done saving your life."

He pointedly shuts his mouth, peeling his hoodie and shirt off in one go in a way that might be sexy if not for the way his blood is smeared across his side.

"What happened?" you ask quickly, kneeling in front of him and pressing the towel back against the wound.

He winces. "Thought you didn't want me talking, angel."

You roll your eyes. "Oh my god, can you stop joking around when you're literally bleeding all over my bathroom?"

"Sorry, sorry. I got, uh, I got shot." He admits this meekly, as if it's not something horrifically concerning. He's got one hand over his face the way he does when he's trying to hide his blush from you after you've teased him and he’s too embarrassed to look at you. 

"Shot," you repeat calmly, gingerly pulling the towel away and preparing to properly clean the wound. "So there's a bullet and-or shrapnel in here, and I can't go straight to disinfecting or using my quirk."

"Probably."

You release a heavy sigh, forcing yourself to stay as calm as possible. "Alright. This is probably going to hurt. I'm sorry I can't hold your hand while I do this, baby."

He nods, biting his lip as you set about cleaning out his wound. When everything's good and clean, you take a few deep breaths and focus your quirk, not letting up until you're sure the wound is completely closed. You're still gentle as you wipe the blood away, though whatever pain he's still in is probably nothing compared to the way he felt before. The spot where he'd been shot is completely healed over, the only signs that it ever happened being the slightest scarring.

When you're certain that he's not losing any more blood and that everything is okay, you finally release a proper breath, dropping your head forward to rest on his lap. "You did a good job," you breathe against his thigh. "You should–you should get cleaned up. Take a s-shower."

"Are you okay?" he asks, like he didn't get shot tonight. Like your adoring boyfriend hasn't been moonlighting as a vigilante for god only knows how long. Like he couldn't have died if you hadn't had a healing quirk, like he couldn't get arrested and go to jail like his life isn't in danger–

"I will be," you say clearly, except it's too fast and shaky and not clear at all.

"Hey. Love. Look at me?" His hand rests on your head, grounding you, and you shift to rest your chin on his leg. He frowns at the sight, tugging you up and leaning over so he can bring you into a hug. "I'm okay," he whispers. "You don't need to cry."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"I... [Name], I'm sorry. I never meant to keep this from you." He's slow, careful in his words and the way his hands attempt to soothe you. "There wasn't... When we first started out, I didn't know if I should, and then I wanted to, but it was never the right time, so I..."

You sniffle, desperately trying to rein in your tears. "Izuku, you could have died."

"I saved someone's life today, though. I-I can't say I regret it."

You pull away to look him in the eye. "Please be careful. I don't want people I love getting hurt."

He nods, pressing his forehead against yours. "I'll try."

You peck his nose, intertwining your fingers with his. "We need to wash the rest of the blood off you. How are you feeling? Dizzy?"

"No, I feel fine. Got a bit of a stomachache, though."

You roll your eyes. "Huh, I wonder what could have caused that. Strip and get in the bath, idiot."

He lets out a bark of laughter. "Will you join me?"

You pause. You were going to go soak his clothes to get the blood out and maybe order some Chinese, but... "Give me five minutes and I will. I'm going to make sure the blood comes out of your shirt and your hoodie first."

He mock-salutes as you stand, and you leave the room on unsteady feet, Izuku's top and jacket in hand.

You soak them in the kitchen sink, the red of the water making you cringe. That's Izuku's blood. Izuku. Your Izuku. You plug the sink, shut off the water, and return to where Izuku is splashing water over the spots of blood he can find.

He doesn't notice your return just yet. Carefully, you slip out of your clothes, kneeling next to the bath to dip a hand in the water and run it across his back soothingly.

His back muscles jump beneath your touch, his head turning just slightly to look at you. "Everything settled?"

"For now," you hum, eyes trained on his back and the various scars and bruises there. Panic bubbles in your chest at the sight–how many near death experiences has he had that he's been shaking off? "I was gonna order Chinese, but I don't wanna be away from you right now."

"Want me to spend the night?"

"Please," you answer too quickly. "I just... I'll worry if I can't see you." You stand, carefully slipping into the water with him to help him rinse away the blood.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, resting his lips there as he murmurs. "Guess I should just move in so I don't have to worry you, huh?"

"Guess you should," you retort. Your hands roam his body, partially under the pretense of helping him clean off what little blood remains, but mostly because you're searching. "It's a shame, too. Must be a real hassle for you." A bruise under his rib cage. You heal it right away.

Izuku smiles against you. "As if I could ever complain about waking up with you every morning."

"As if you will," you snort. "Move in with me so I can make you sleep on the couch for a week for scaring me like you did."

"Surely there's some other way I could apologize," he declares with a dramatic gasp, one hand clapping over his bare chest.

"Start by laying back and not moving around so much, you'll splash water everywhere and I already have to get your blood out of my carpet."

He reaches for a shampoo bottle as he complies. You lightly slap his hand away with a playful glare. "No, you just got shot. You're not doing anything. Let me take care of you, Izu honey."

"But [name]–"

You cut him off with a soft kiss, capping the shampoo and beginning to massage his scalp. Now that you're at this stage, you're sure he has no willpower left to object. You snuggle up against him, shampooing his hair one-handed as you rest your head on his chest.

"I was serious, you know."

"About?" he borderline purrs, pressing his head into your touch.

"A lot of things, but mostly the scaring the shit out of me and the moving in with me parts. You don't have to, but I'd feel a lot better if you at least came back here after any patrols you do or fights you get into so I can heal you up."

"Won't that tire you out?" he protests. Everything sounds weaker when you're playing with his hair, but he does have a solid point.

"Using my quirk a lot will make me tired, but I get better rest when I'm sleeping in your arms anyway. More importantly, if I can keep you alive and well, I want to do it."

"I'm surprised you haven't said anything about me stopping the whole vigilante thing yet."

Your fingers still in his hair. Sure, you'd love it if he stopped. Nothing makes you feel worse than the thought that Izuku could be risking his life, but... "As much as I love you and want you to be safe, I want you to be happy, too," you admit. "If... If being Jackrabbit and giving all the local heroes and villains hell makes you happy, then I want to support that. Even if I'm really scared for you."

"Oh my god, marry me," he breathes, so fast and so faint you scarcely catch it.

"I'll marry you, but only if you buy me steak first," you hum. 

"Deal. A steak dinner, and a ring. I'll try to swing that."

"You better, idiot. I want to spend my life with you."

It's his turn to go still now, freezing as you tactically drip water on his head to rinse his hair. "I-if you're serious, then..."

Cheeks heat up in tandem. "Of course I'm serious. I love you. I never want to lose you. The days I wake up with you are the best days of my life. I'd adore being married to you."

Strong arms wrap around you and pull you tight. "I-I don't really think I'm good enough to marry you just yet," he says. Firm kisses pepper the top of your head, mixed with a few hot tears, before he continues. "But someday, when I can... When I can be confident enough to not worry you, I swear we'll get married, if you'll still have me then."

You frown. "Izuku baby, it'll be a cold day in hell before I stop worrying about your cute, reckless ass."

"Hell freezes over every year, actually. It's a little town in the United States. Gets ice a lot."

"You would know that, nerd."

"I thought I was an idiot?" 

"You can be both," you say with a pout. He chuckles and plants a few more kisses on top of your head.

The water is lukewarm when you both decide to get out of the bath. Standing before Izuku, you grab the fluffy towel before he can and begin patting him dry, pressing soft kisses against every scar and bruise that litters his skin. Soon, you move to kissing his freckles, too, and before long, you're kissing him indiscriminately as he laughs and tries to towel you off.

You're maybe halfway through kissing every inch of him when he uses the towel to pull you up and meet his lips. His arms are back around you in an instant. "I love you," he huffs. "I love you so much."

"Mm, love you more."

"No," he pouts. "You don't get to make that decision."

"What are you gonna do, stop me?" You punctuate your sentence with another quick peck to his lips, attempting to wriggle out of his vice grip. "Lemme go, cutie, I've gotta order dinner."

"Not until you admit that I love you more."

"Noooo," you protest, “I can’t make myself lie to youuu.”

Several loud knocks sound from your front door, causing both you and Izuku to freeze up. You glance at him with a worried look. "You wait in here, just in case."

"One moment, please!" you shout, scurrying into your bathroom. You quickly yank yourself into a pair of Izuku's sweatpants and a loose top, not bothering with underwear for the time being. Your worst fears are confirmed when you open your front door to find a pair of cops standing on your doorstep.

"Oh! Good evening, officers." You're suddenly very glad for your acting classes when you were still in school. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"We've received reports of the vigilante Jackrabbit being spotted running around this apartment complex," the taller man answers, producing a picture of your boyfriend from above, his face obscured by his hood. "We're asking if you know anything about his whereabouts."

You frown, putting on your best worried expression. "Isn't that dangerous? I can't say I know anything about it, though, officer."

The shorter man peers at your floor, then back to you with a worried look. "Do you mind telling us why your carpet's covered in blood?"

Oh shit. "Oh, that?" Your face goes blank as you try to think of an explanation. "Nothing serious, no need to worry. I cut myself super badly while playing with a pocketknife earlier, but I've got a healing quirk, so it's not an issue! I was more interested in cleaning the wound and getting into not-bloody clothes, so I haven't gotten around to dealing with my carpet yet!"

"Well, glad to hear you're alright, then. Be safe, and be more careful with knives goin' forward."

You nod, forcing a grateful smile. "Right! Thank you, officers. Sorry I couldn't be of any real help."

"You know, I hear that Coca-Cola's great for gettin' out bloodstains. Might help with your carpet, there."

"Oh! Great! I'll look into that."

"Give the station a call if you find any information about that vigilante, alright?"

You nod enthusiastically. "Of course! Anything to keep the peace. You both have yourselves a lovely evening while I try to get all this blood out of my carpet."

You wave the officers a good night, and slowly close your door, listening as their footsteps trail away to the next door in your building. 

You find Izuku standing nervously in your bedroom, anxious eyes searching your face as if he didn't listen in to the whole conversation. Slowly, you press the top of your head to his chest. "We need to set some ground rules for your Jackrabbit hoodie if you're gonna live here."

He nods. "Talk about it over Chinese food? I ordered while you spoke with the cops."

"Yeah. We'll talk about it over dinner."

Tags: @tooloudarts​ @sapid-rose​ @xxangelpridexx​ @birds-have-teeth​ @icythotsenpai​ @warmchoccymilk​ @wesparklebitch​ @izoodles​ @fujimoribaby​ @my-bnha-things​ @denise-the-death-goddess​ @themerpenguin​ @sincerebubbles​ @themmmelissa @fudobaby​

#midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha reader insert #mha reader insert #vigilante!izuku #my fics

[saebyeog-i]

bitter brews (i) | syh

“Johnny laughed again, eyes crinkling at the sides. Your mind wandered briefly to a half formed thought about how endearing that was. “Maybe so, but despite your efforts to make me an enemy, I think you’re actually a really good person. You even guessed my favorite coffee drink, so that has to count for something.””

genre | not quite a coffeeshop!au, (mild)slow burn, this thought about being an adversaries to lovers fic for six minutes

rating/warnings | a stupid amount of exposition about coffee plants, catch me throwing in the random recipes that have been my go-to for cooking during quarantine, is this angsty?, discussions of mental health issues {see tags for details}, overall mature content/themes {foul language, alcohol consumption, references & discussion of masturbation, awkward boners, future smut}, some soft moments, and some good ol’ tooth rotting waxing poetic nonsense fluff. Don’t expect too much out of this I just got tired of editing this part so I’m finally posting it.

word count | 19.6k (I meant for this to be a super long one-shot but it’s turning into a story in parts for the sake of ratings w h o o p s)

pairing | Johnny Seo x fem reader

writing playlist | Egotistic - Mamamoo, Black Swan - BTS, Sober - HYO, I Blame On You - Taeyeon, Heartbeat - BTS, Close to Me (Red Velvet Remix) - Ellie Goulding feat. Red Velvet

—

“So, what you mean to say is… you’re not coming? Like, at all?”

The bright yellow plastic of the rotary phone was slightly cool against your overheating skin, which was constantly veiled in a thin layer of sweat whenever you stayed on the farm property instead of the main house on the opposite side of the island. It was the first week of May, which meant it was already humid again. If it wasn’t the time for the daily afternoon rain showers, it might as well have felt like it was raining with how saturated the air was.

“I’m sorry, Bean, I just can’t get on a plane right now. I thought it would be fine it we stretched out the time between flights, but all my doctors are saying I need to just stay here between now and the birth, so…”

Your sister’s voice trailed off and you had to wait for a moment to be sure it wasn’t the poor reception for the phone call running across the four thousand miles that separated you— the four thousand miles that would continue to separate you for the rest of the summer.

You exhaled and twirled the aged spiral phone cord that could barely hold its shape around your index finger, staring at the concrete floor and scrunching your toes. “Well, I’m already here, obviously… do you… you want me to stay here then? Take care of stuff?” You asked hesitantly, already having a feeling of what the answer would be.

A crackly sigh of relief came through the other line. “Little Bean, you are the best, Yunho was worried about asking you to stay and man the farm for the summer harvest but I knew you would just offer! You’re the best like that, you know?” You gritted your teeth and forced a smile through, even though no one was there to witness it. “Okay, so we’ll ship out the supplies in the next few days. Yunho is gonna email you a list of delivery dates of materials for the projects he had planned for the summer and a few contractor contacts…”

Her voice warbled on, and you could only nod your head and vocalize an ‘mhmm’ every so often, listening to her rattle off instructions and information that you knew would be sent in an email too. You’d been looking forward to spending the summer with her— you hadn’t gotten a proper chance to visit for more than a weekend since she and Yunho had gotten married about two years ago— but it turned out this wouldn’t be it. You couldn’t blame her though; she was approaching the third trimester of her pregnancy. You’d do anything for her, even this, even isolating yourself on a farm for four months. Alone.

Not exactly the leave of absence you’d been hoping for from work, but it would have to do.

✧ ✧ ✧

This was supposed to be a vacation. A break. Some much needed time off, away from your job, your career, and your “normal” life. You told yourself over and over again you were looking forward to it. And besides, it would all be worth it, because of all the time you’d get to spend with your sister after so long.

And then she had to betray you by going and getting fucking knocked up, with twins no less.

Fucking happily married couples with their god damn healthy ass sex lives and family planning and wanting to raise children. What the fuck was that all about?

It had been so long since your last vacation. Years, in fact. So long, you had over two months of paid time off accrued at work, and back at New Years you’d made the preliminary plans to spend a month on the farm in Hawaii with her, bonding and just relaxing. Sure, it would require some manual labor for the business here and there, but mostly just to rest.

What a joke that turned out to be.

The farm in Hawaii. You know, the coffee farm your brother in law bought four years ago on a dare from your sister, because he said he could totally pull it off as a side hustle, and she said he wouldn’t be able to? Yeah, that one. Fast forward to today and the side hustle became a full fledged passion that roped in a good amount of the family into the business. Siblings, cousins, parents, all involved in different aspects of package design, social media marketing, distribution and wholesale— everyone except you, who stuck with your soul sucking job in advertising, the same industry your brother in law had since left behind.

The farm and roasting wasn’t an overnight success by any means, but in the last year the brand had really taken off in the craft coffee scene. After all, Kona coffee was well sought after, and one could only claim the name ‘Kona’ if it was grown on the same two thousand or so acres of land on Hawaii’s big island. You know, the same area of land you were living on for the remainder of the summer?

Right. The whole summer.

It was just supposed to be the month of May. And then it turned into May and some of June, when you’d asked your sister to make more concrete plans, and she kept brushing it off. And then the week before you actually got off the plane, you hadn’t booked the return ticket, because you were still waiting for her answer. And then the phone call, and now, this was… indefinite? No, that was being too dramatic; if anything, it would be up through the birth. Based on the number of projects Yunho had planned for the farm, through the remainder of the summer was how long everything would take. Just you and a little over five acres of land and the summer heat. The thought of an extended isolation had your breath catching in your throat, but the last thing you wanted to do was complain or call for help. Stubborn and proud, you wouldn’t have made the offer to stay if you didn’t mean it, if you didn’t think you could handle it. There was no way you were backing out now.

When Yunho had first bought the farm, it had been a rough first few years of refining the coffee plants that had been on the land and uncared for for a number of years, but the last two summers had provided a steady increase in the harvest yield. There was a small farmhouse on the property, with two small bedrooms, a shower, and a small kitchen and living area. A few miles down the coast was the nicer, newer condo that the business had bought, a multi-bedroom unit with some better amenities for when more of your family wanted to visit. It felt weird spending time there— it was too nice, too clean, and quite frankly you had enough to keep yourself busy with on the farm property, you’d rather not have to spend time driving back and forth every day. So you opted to spend most of your nights sleeping here, even though it meant only ceiling fans and no air conditioning.

The farmhouse had very shitty, very limited wifi and a grand total of three electrical outlets outside of what was used to power the oven and refrigerator. One of those outlets was, of course, dedicated to an espresso machine on the kitchen counter, which you had gotten acquainted with over the last two weeks. It was an older model and a little temperamental (the one at the condo was much nicer), but it was still from a decent manufacturer, and you could still use it to pulled a decent shot.

Most of the time you worked in silence, and most of the time you were never too aware of how much time had passed, other than when the sun went down and it was suddenly dark out. You weren’t always this absent minded, you swore— maybe it was a byproduct of being alone for so long—

A loud, high pitched whine filled your ears, followed by some scratching at the door that lead to the lanai outside. You sighed, standing up from the kitchen table and walking over to face the monster that had made it.

“What? What do you want now?”

Staring back at you from the the other side of the screen door was what you’d affectionally referred to as The Thirty-Three Pound Menace— the medium sized stray dog that your brother-in-law so conveniently forgot to mention had been living on the farm for the last few months. It had been waiting outside the farmhouse when you first arrived, and you’d learned from the neighbors that Yunho had taken a liking to the stray and had arranged for them to feed it in his absence. But now that you were here, taking care of the dog was added to your list of daily chores. It seemed to not want to leave the farm property unless actively accompanied by you, with the assurance that you’d be bringing it back with you.

With a roll of your eyes you hip checked the door open just enough to let the dog inside the house. It circled you several times, sniffing at your knees before sitting and panting, staring up at you expectantly. In the two weeks you’d been here, the majority of your conversations were between you and this, a being that couldn’t talk back. Maybe you liked it that way. “What, dinner? Fine, fine,” you grumbled, shuffling to the cabinet and pulling out a can of wet food.

Your meals had consisted of relatively simple dishes, but today you were cranky at the confirmation that your summer was not going to go as planned. Tonight’s dinner featured a bowl of cereal and a coffee mug full of cold white wine.

You ate in silence. You drank in silence. The only noise came from the hum of the ceiling fan overhead, and the occasional sound of the dog, cleaning its paws and laying by your feet protectively. Why it seemed so determined to win over your affection, you had no idea.

After sitting in silence with only your thoughts and the now sleeping dog to keep you company for what felt like hours and downing a second mug full of wine, you found yourself letting out a loud yell, startling the dog and waking it. In a fury, you pulled out the laptop you had for the sole purpose of checking once a day for emails from Yunho and connected it to the shitty, sub-par wifi with just enough patience to navigate to an airline’s website and search flights back to the states. You were looking for the cheapest, most reasonable one you could find. After all of five minutes of research and a quick round on mental math, you clicked on a date and hit the ‘book now’ button before you could second guess yourself, slamming the computer shut once the payment went through and shoving it away from you across the table.

“September 10th,” you grumbled out loud for only you and the dog to hear. Standing from the chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor, you crossed the room and stopped in front of the wall calendar your sister had put up the last time she’d visited the farm just after New Years. You lifted a few pages and flipped forward to the month of September. Red marker in hand, you found the date and circled it rather aggressively, several times over. You looked down at the dog, watching you patiently with its head tilted. “You got that? I’m getting off this fucking island on September 10th.”

✧ ✧ ✧

The day your life fell apart came twelve days later just before nine in the morning.

Mondays were the delivery day, that’s what Yunho had laid out in his instructional emails to you. Your only source of personal transportation was an older jeep, one you didn’t enjoy driving, given that it had no top and needed some mechanical work done. So you’d made arrangements and had your groceries delivered on Monday mornings, buying mostly direct from another farm on the other side of the island, and they were always kind enough to act as the courier for whatever additional miscellaneous supplies you’d request, regardless of where they’d have to go to procure them.

There was a winding driveway that lead up to the house from the main road, and a larger, wider drive up a less steep hillside for larger vehicles for delivery. You were fully expecting the truck that lumbered up the delivery road and came to a stop just outside the barn which housed the massive coffee roaster and stored most of the processed green beans from harvest. Even though it had only been three weeks, there was a routine that had slowly been settling into place: the sound of the truck coming to a stop riled up the dog, the dog came running from wherever and started barking, you’d get your groceries and any other assorted items, the dog would get a treat because your delivery boy had a soft spot for the creature, and you’d pay for your goods. “Hey Jin,” you called out over the barking from the front of the barn, hands currently full with a sack of processed coffee beans you’d hoisted over your shoulder. “You can just leave the groceries on the porch, I’ll put them inside in a few. Did you manage to get me the bags of fertilizer and some wood stakes?” A loud thud sounded as you dropped the bag to its resting place on the concrete floor.

“I mean, I can go put these inside if that’s easier. And yeah, there’s ten bags to get us started, we can have more delivered next week if you still need ‘em.”

You whipped around to face whoever had just spoken, because that voice was most certainly not Jin.

He was tall like Jin, had wide shoulders like Jin, and his hair was kept just a bit long and looked ridiculously shiny and soft and like you could run your fingers through it like Jin’s. It was a lighter brown with some honeyed highlights running through it, compared to the dark brown almost black of Jin’s. You tensed, seeing him carrying a brown paper bag with a loaf of bread and the leafy green tops of carrots sticking out the top. He wasn’t looking at you, rather, he was far too occupied with bending down slightly and scratching behind the ear of the dog who was currently whining and wagging its tail at his feet. Some guard dog it was.

Without a second thought, you reached for the first sharp object you could find, which happened to be the box cutter you used to cut open the burlap bags the beans came back from the processing plant in. “You’re not Jin,” you said tersely, holding the utility knife by your hip defensively.

“Chill out killer, he’s harmless,” a more familiar voice called. Seokjin, your regular delivery driver whose family owned the farm you bought directly from, came into view carrying another two bags of produce and a small pile of envelopes. “Picked up your mail on my way up, the box was practically overflowing. Do you ever check that thing?” You’d first met Jin two years ago when you’d come to visit your sister and Yunho for a long weekend. He’d become a good friend of Yunho’s and was one of the people who would take turns feeding the dog when no one else was here.

Ignoring the unknown man, you relaxed your shoulders slightly and placed the knife down on the table behind you. “Thanks,” you grumbled, taking the small pile of letters from him. Admittedly, you hadn’t checked the mailbox since the day after you’d arrived on the farm, mostly out of sloth and spite. You sifted through the letters— mostly junk mail, with a few bills and notices relating to the business. You put those in front so you could look through them later, when you’d finished the physical work for the day. You tore one envelope open in particular when you noticed it was addressed directly to you and had your sister and Yunho’s Illinois address in the upper corner. It was a letter postmarked from two weeks ago, which struck you as odd, because what the hell would he bother writing in a letter that he couldn’t just send you in an email or a text or a phone call? You started reading aloud softly to yourself.

“‘My Dearest Bean… First of all I want to apologize for the change in plans, but with your sister’s condition her doctors just don’t recommend her traveling,’ God, he’s so dramatic she’s not terminally ill she’s just pregnant. Blah blah blah, I don’t care, you’re full of absolute shite, Yunho,” you began skimming through his lengthy pre amble, looking for the purpose behind the note. Without reading the middle you flipped the stationary paper over to see his handwriting covered the entire back of the page, too. “God, he’s so long winded. Oh, here we go, the very end— ‘I promise we’ll make it up to you, thank you for running the farm and taking care of Puppy, please be nice to Johnny and treat him well, he seems like a good kid.” You stared at the words written on the paper and looked up at Jin. “Who the fuck is Johnny?”

The man next to him cleared his throat and held his hand up. “Johnny! I’m uh, that’s me. You must be _____— I’ve heard a lot about you from Yunho! I’m Johnny Seo, it’s nice to meet you,” he said with a smile, reaching a hand out.

You eyed it but made no move to reciprocate the action. “Cool. You know Yunho. Lots of people know Yunho, he’s a huge fucking flirt, social butterfly of the century, the man never shuts up. Why should I be nice to you?”

He shifted on his feet and his outstretched hand retreated. “Oh. Uh. I’m uh, here for the summer,” he explained, sounding almost confused. “Didn’t— didn’t Yunho tell you?”

Your eyes bugged out and you looked over to Jin. “Jin who the fuck is this and why is he on my farm?” You whispered.

Your friend laughed. “You read the end of Yunho’s letter. I’m sure if you read the whole thing it would explain more. This is Johnny, and he’s here for the summer. He’s gonna help you out! I know the list of all the projects you need to finish this summer is lengthy, and plus look at the guy, he’s jacked! You could use the muscle for manual labor. More work for him, less for you, right? And look, the poor dog you refuse to give a name to even likes him!” Jin gestured comically at Johnny. You looked over, sizing him up some— Jin wasn’t wrong. The stranger was muscular on top of being tall, and under the capped sleeves of his tee shirt you saw his arms that looked the size of your head. The dog was still circling him, sniffing and begging for attention.

Johnny tried smiling again. “Yunho mentioned there was a lot of construction type work to do. I uh, had nothing else planned so he said I could stay on the farm for the summer and work in exchange for food and a place to sleep. I take it he uh, didn’t run that by you first, did he?”

Your grip on the papers in hand tightened and you felt your jaw tense involuntarily. “No, he managed to not mention that once to me. How did you even get here?” You hissed back.

“I picked him up at the airport this morning,” Jin answered calmly, “Yunho gave me a buzz a few days ago to ask if I could bring him here with this week’s groceries.”

“So he managed to arrange for him to get on a plane and secure transportation to the farm but couldn’t be bothered to call me and let me know?”

Jin only laughed, his eyes crinkling. “I’m pretty sure he knows you well enough by now to know that this would have been your reaction whatever way he told you.” Despite the kinship you’d felt growing between the two of you, Jin was Yunho’s friend first, and it only made sense that his allegiance would be to him first. Of course he’d side with Yunho on this matter. “And yes, like Johnny said I did bring a bundle of plant stakes and ten bags of fertilizer— they’re in the back of the truck bed.”

“Oh, I could get those—” Johnny started, moving to step towards the truck.

You could barely think straight. First they bailed on you unexpectedly to spend the summer on the farm alone. That was fine— you’d gotten that through your head, and had come to terms with that. But suddenly springing a plus one on you, without your consent? Absolutely the fuck not.

“Yeah. Don’t need help. Thanks,” you spat, grabbing the bags of groceries from him and brushing past, stomping your way back to the farmhouse.

Johnny stood frozen for a moment before stammering, looking from Jin to your retreating figure and back again. “I should— I should talk to her, right? Or do I—”

“Whoa, don’t think too hard there handsome, I can smell wood burning. Don’t stress about it. She’s just a little… touchy. Let me talk to her,” Jin patted Johnny on the back before heading up the path to the farmhouse after you.

You’d stormed into the house and slammed the groceries down on the counter and let out a screech of rage before picking up the receiver of the yellow rotary phone and dialing. Tapping you foot incessantly, you waited as it rang.

“He-llo~?” The singsong voice that came through the other end was far too amused with itself, more so than usual, and that’s how you knew he knew why you were calling.

“Jung Yunho you better be thankful you knocked up my sister because if it weren’t for the babies in her womb I would fly myself across the Pacific and flay you alive,” you seethed through gritted teeth.

In true unbothered fashion, your brother in law only laughed at your threat. “Ah, so I take it your employee has arrived safely! I’ll have to thank Seokjin for getting him from the airport. Can you give the Kims a pound of the special medium roast as a token of my gratitude?”

“No!” You yelled back, “No! I will not! I’m already beyond frustrated that I’m on this island alone for the entire summer, I’m doing this as a favor because we’re family! I’m not your slave, Yunho! Where was my warning, huh? When were you going to ask if I was okay with you sending some stranger to live in the same house as me, huh?!”

The familiar ache in your chest started to swell, and breathing became difficult. ‘Not now,’ you thought bitterly, ‘Please not right now-’

You curled your free hand into a fist and pressed your nails into your palm, hard, grounding yourself. Yunho’s voice on the phone blurred out and by the time his words started making sense again, you’d already missed what he’d been saying. “I’m not saying you have to like the kid, just show him some hospitality, yeah? You just said it yourself, you didn’t want to be alone this summer, and now you won’t be. I know you’re a good cook so that’s why I told him food would be included. Don’t worry, I’ve already sent some pre-payments to the Kims, so your grocery orders are doubled for the rest of the summer.” His voice went quiet for a second. You rubbed at your temple in frustration, squinting your eyes shut and forcing the mere thought of tears deep back into the recesses of your brain. “Bean? You still there?”

“Don’t get all pretend concerned, Yunho. And stop using my childhood nickname any time you want something from me.” Your voice was quieter now, the intensity of your emotions subsiding, but the betrayal you felt still running strong. “Fine. I’ll tolerate him. But there better be a case of wine in next week’s groceries to make this bearable.”

“Done and done! You’re gonna love him Bean, he’s really great. He’ll be good company.” The continued use of your childhood nickname from anyone other than your sister always gave you pause.

“I said tolerate not befriend. There’s a difference,” you clarified quickly. A knock at the door startled you, and you jumped and looked to see Jin standing by the front door, a roll of wooden stakes under his arm. You rolled your eyes and waved your arm to shoo him away, pointing at the phone pressed to your ear. “Look, Yunho, I don’t know what you’re hoping to see me get out of this, but if he drives me insane I can’t promise that he’ll walk away from this unscathed.”

His laugh echoed through the receiver and reverberated against your skin. “I just think it would do you some good to have some human interaction, that’s all. Your sister too. She says hi, by the way,” he added softly, “And so do the little ones.”

You scoffed. Yunho always brought up your sister as a way of diffusing your temper. He knew it would always work. “They’re still in embryonic fluid, they can’t talk and they certainly don’t have cognitive function.” Sometimes you wondered if even Yunho had that with the wild ideas that went through his mind.

“Ever the romantic, you are. You know, soon they’ll be able to think! And they’ll be thinking of their favorite auntie, and how much they can’t wait to meet her! So she can’t be arrested for murder between now and when they’re born, because babies can’t go to prison!”

“I’m telling your sister you said that,” you challenged. With an exhale, you did your best to let go of the frustration and tension inside and politely ended the phone call. You were trying to clear your head and collect yourself before heading back outside when you heard a yell that sounded all too much like Jin’s voice.

“What fresh hell—” you started, shuffling back outside in the direction of the commotion where you saw Jin, somewhat struggling under the weight of two bags of fertilizer, and Johnny, now with a baseball cap turned backwards on his head, easily hoisting a stack of four bags without slouching.  

Your eyebrow ticked up upon the realization that it was almost seventy pounds that he was slinging around like it was nothing. “Anywhere specific you want these?” He asked innocently, looking up at where you stood on the lanai just outside the door. You almost cursed him out when he blinked at you twice.

You pointed your left arm down the hill, the opposite direction of the way to the barn. “Shed. Next to the vegetable garden.” You wrinkled your nose at him. “And lose the hat. Or at least don’t wear it backwards. Makes you look like an ass.”

Johnny’s mouth hung open for a moment before he hummed and winked. “You got it, Boss! Come on handsome, if you can carry those good looks you can carry some dirt,” he called back to Jin, who was currently grumbling about how manual labor wasn’t a part of his delivery arrangement.

The hairs on your arm stood up on edge as you watched Johnny laugh deeply as he ambled his way in the direction you’d pointed. The thirty three pound menace next to you whined and wagged its tail, panting as it went from watching you to watching Johnny’s retreating figure. You looked down and made eye contact. “If I survive this, I’m going to kill Yunho.”

✧ ✧ ✧

There was no case of wine in the grocery deliveries the following week. The reasoning Yunho gave was that per Jin’s investigation, the liquor stores were all out of your favorite wine, so there was no point in sending you a sub par alternative. It was absolute crap, but you had better things to do than chew out your brother in law over the phone. Took way more energy than it was worth.

So far, Johnny was making good on his word and earning his keep. At first, you’d tried avoiding him as much as possible, intentionally waking up hours ahead of him and starting your day when the sun rose. You never made much noise in the mornings, the loudest thing you did was make coffee, and lately you’d opted for a pour over versus pulling shots of espresso. You weren’t personally one for breakfast, choosing just coffee and maybe a piece of fruit instead. This morning you felt a little hungrier than usual, so you thought you’d get yourself a bowl of cereal. Peering into your pantry, you saw that on the shelf where there had been a stash of cereal boxes, there was now nothing.

“Where the fuck are my cocoa pebbles?” You swore in shock, not realizing you weren’t alone in the kitchen.

“Shit sorry, I ate the last of those yesterday.”

You whirled around to see Johnny, still seemingly half asleep and with some gnarly bedhead, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. His lips were so perfectly pouty, one small part of your brain almost thought he looked cute like this.

But no, he wasn’t cute, he was a thief— he’d stolen all of your cereal stash. “Did you seriously eat through four boxes in a week?” You asked incredulously.

“It was three and a quarter! And yeah I don’t know, I’m always hungry and just one bowl of cereal isn’t filling enough, so I usually have two, or three...” He mumbled, voice trailing off as he rubbed a hand behind his head sheepishly.

You snorted. And then a thought came across you. “Johnny,” you said calmly, the feeling of his name on your tongue foreign and strange. Was this the first time you’d addressed him by name since his arrival? You couldn’t remember. “Do you not know how to cook?”

He hummed thoughtfully for a second. “No-pe!” He popped the p sound in the word. How was he this cheerful, even first thing in the morning? “I mean, I can like, boil water and cook pasta and stuff like that. I think I successfully grilled pork belly once, though it was probably doused in too much oil and too many spices. My college experience was funded almost exclusively on instant dinners and takeout for two years, and then for the second half one of my roommates was an actual chef, so, no one was allowed in the kitchen ‘cept for him.”

“Honestly, I am shocked that you haven’t perished in some tragically strange idiotic accident yet,” you sighed and shuffled to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and a pack of bacon. You grabbed a frying pan from the cabinet under the stove and clicked the burner on, reaching for the oil bottle that lived on the counter top and drizzling some in the pan.

Johnny shuffled closer to inspect what you were doing and let out a gasp of appreciation. “You’re making me eggs and bacon?”

“I’m making me eggs and bacon,” you corrected, “But I guess I’ll make enough for you too,” you said as you peeled the strips off the packaging and placed them into the pan with a sizzle. You reached for a few eggs and cracked four into the pan directly, cocked your head at the amount of food, and then grabbed two more eggs and added them in before taking a fork and scrambling them all together, adding salt and white pepper to the bubbling liquid. You glanced up at Johnny, still watching you, slightly curious. “I don’t trust you. You say you’re an adult but you eat like a teenage boy still. There’s never any leftovers.” After a few minutes you flipped the strips of bacon over and then quickly chopped up a green onion and scraped it onto the scramble just before the eggs finished cooking.

Johnny watched you the whole time, and you felt only slightly uneasy under his gaze. When you turned off the stove after plated your food and stepping away to pour yourself some coffee and he didn’t move, you gestured at the pan in a fashion as if to silently ask him ‘What?’

“Oh!” He gasped out lightly, springing into action and plating the food for himself. You hadn’t bothered to sit down at the table, instead holding the plate in front of you as you leaned against the counter and ate. Johnny followed your lead, taking a bite and groaning audibly in enjoyment at he chewed. He smiled and his eyes shone, almost sparkling. You watched him curiously for a moment before he mumbled out “Your cooking is really good! It uh, reminds me of my mom’s. She’s a great cook.”

You kept your lips tightly shut at the apparent compliment. “It’s just eggs, you weirdo. Finish up and do the dishes. When you’re done meet me by the shed. Today you’re stripping off the old paint and removing any of the rotting boards and disposing of them,” you instructed while placing your empty plate in the sink. His tasks for the day were the next phase in slowly rebuilding the dilapidated shed on the west side of the property to make it useful for storage of all the tools you used to tend to the fruit trees and vegetable garden nearby.

He flashed a smile at you and gave a mock salute. “Aye-aye, captain, I am at your service.”

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled, downing more of your coffee before trudging off.

It was going to be a long summer.

✧ ✧ ✧

“I’m telling you Wendy, I’m going to need an alibi, I really am going to murder my brother in law.”

“What, for giving you live-in eye candy for the summer and hinting that he thinks you need to get laid?”

“Ugh, no, that’s not— hold up, you don’t agree with him, do you?”

The sound of your best friend’s laughter through the phone had you dragging your hands over your face and pulling down at your eyelids dramatically, as if she could see your reaction.

On Thursdays, you finished up your work for the day around 4pm so you could pull up a chair next to the rotary phone and make time for the weekly scheduled phone call with Wendy. She’d insisted on the arrangement after you went six days without texting her, which you’d insisted was because service was spotty, but she’d accurately called you out on being cranky and stewing by yourself.

You and Wendy had met during your freshman year of college. By graduation, you’d lived together for three years, and made a vow to move to the same city together post grad, hence why she was still your roommate now— or was, seeing as you were on the island instead of back in the two bedroom apartment you shared. There was a five hour timezone difference between Hawaii and Chicago, so you’d figured out a schedule that worked for both of you. The calls had a tendency to last for several hours, and depending on how much wine you’d drink while on the phone with her would include bathroom breaks and you inevitably swearing at whatever you were cooking for dinner than night.

“Honey, please. I love you. Dearly, and against all other advice, you’re my best friend— but you need to get laid. You haven’t been this tense since our last finals week of senior year. And clearly you’re not opposed to the idea of Eye Candy banging your brains out, otherwise you wouldn’t have described him as, and I quote, ‘dumb hot and stupidly ripped’. When are you gonna send me a photo so I have something better to work with?”  

“Okay but are you sure you’re not the sexually frustrated one here and you’re just trying to live vicariously through me?”

Wendy’s hum sounded through the line. “I mean, can’t we both be desperately horny and in need of getting some? It’s not ideal but it is possible. Plus, I’m not the one that didn’t pack her vibrator—”

You let out a whine interrupting her as you leaned back in your chair, swirling the wine in your glass a few times as you held the phone to your ear with your shoulder. “Shut up stop reminding me! I regret it but no I’m not letting you send me a new one, especially not with a guy living with me. Come on, my stories are boring, it’s the same thing every day. I wake up, I feed the dog, I tell him what to do and then I hide away doing my own chores. When are you gonna tell me more about that girl you were seeing— what was her name, Joo-something?”

“Nice try, we’re not changing the subject with my dating life. Seriously, babe, you should just think about it.”

“And what, make it awkward for the rest of the summer? No thanks,” you shot her idea down quickly.

“I’m willing to bet money you’ll cave before the end of the summer. Plus, who doesn’t love a good ol’ summer fling? And who says you ever have to see him again once it’s all over?”

As much as you’d loathe to admit it, Wendy had a bit of a point there. “Cute, but you and I both know I’m too high strung for a temporary fling. Plus, I’m not in the mood to catch feelings right now.”

“If I find a way to replenish your wine supply, would that help?”

You groaned dramatically once more. “Not with the sexual frustration, but with my overall wellbeing, yes, yes it would.”

Wendy squealed on the other end of the phone. “Ha! So you admit it, you are sexually frustrated!”

“Woman, when in the years that you’ve known me have I not been at least some kind of frustrated?” You acknowledged.

Your best friend laughed in agreement, understanding she wasn’t going to get much more out of you about Johnny, and began a lengthy and detailed story about her last three dates with a girl she’d met through a friend of a friend. As you listened to how her voice held a dreamlike quality to it when she talked about her, you couldn’t help the pang of jealousy you felt and a sinking feeling in your gut that you’d been lying through your teeth earlier, and that maybe, subconsciously, you did want to catch feelings.

Maybe.

✧ ✧ ✧

“So… is there a story or a reason why you’re here instead of Yunho?”

You lifted your head from your focused task of sorting out the peaberry beans from the regular beans. It was tedious, time consuming, annoying as all hell, and made you want a drink stiffer than the coffee that you were certain made up more of your body fluids than blood or water did at this point. “Yes,” you said curtly after studying his face for a minute, not providing any further explanation. Johnny had his hands in his pockets and pursed his lips, nodding for a moment where he stood in the entrance to the barn.

You had set up your mad scientist level organization for the process all across the concrete floor of the refinished barn. Over the last week, Johnny had finished replacing the boards on the siding of the shed, stained the wood, and sealed it with a protective coat. He even managed to remove all the broken glass from the windows without sustaining any injuries, which you hadn’t thought possible for him. This morning you had him weed the vegetable garden, prune back the hedges along the back side of the house, and clean the deck of the lanai. How did he possibly still have any energy left? He was definitely a harder worker than you’d first given him credit for— you shook your head, not wanting to continue a spiral on Johnny and any detailed thoughts about him.

Back to your task at hand.

The harvest had been divided into several metal basins of five pounds of beans each, and in front of each basin you’d placed two dishes on either side. The point was to be able to weigh how many beans ended up being peaberry from each five pounds of harvest, and to see if you could leverage a steady average from the yield and better plan for how many pounds of the limited roast you could advertise for and set the price per pound accordingly. You wore a face mask and nylon disposable gloves while sorting, and despite being an annoying task, after a while it became a way for you to zone out and let the hours pass by. When the dishes were empty and you first started sorting them, there was a distinct echo of the small beans hitting the metal dish over and over again, until enough beans were lining the bottom that it started to dull the noise.

“Sigh.”

A slight puff of air washed over you. Did he just say the word ‘sigh’ out loud? And was he hovering over your shoulder?

“Can I help you?” You asked, pausing your sorting for only a moment.

“Isn’t it my job to ask you that question? I’m not some layabout, I am trying to earn my keep, you know,” Johnny said in response, rubbing his hands together and eyeing the basin of beans in front of him. You were almost inclined to hand it to him. Over the last four weeks, you’d gotten a lot of decent work out of him, even if you did feel somewhat micro-manage-y half the time with the tasks you did give him. “Okay, how does this work?”

You groaned exaggeratedly and excessively, rolling your eyes. When you didn’t answer, he reached forward and plucked a single coffee bean from the basin and examined it closely. “Hey, this one’s funny looking!”

“Don’t touch them with your bare hands, that’s just going to waste them.” You swatted the bean out of his hand and then looked at your own gloves and sighed. “If you’re insisting on helping, fine. But you need sanitary gear to handle them. Go wash your hands, there’s masks and gloves by the sink,” you grumbled, standing up and taking off your own gloves to dispose of them and replace them with a fresh pair.

Johnny followed obediently, trailing behind you a little too innocently for someone of his size. “Yes, the beans still need to be roasted and that’ll kill any bacteria, but I just like to be extra cautious, okay? Because it’s a mutation there’s no rule to how much of a yield I’ll get with each harvest so I don’t like wasting even a single bean,” you reasoned, settling back down and folding your legs back at the now half-sorted metal bowl.

“So, we’re just sorting the weird ones from the normal ones?” He asked while picking up another peaberry bean, this time with gloved hands and a mask over his mouth and nose.

You took a quick glance and nodded to confirm that yes, the bean in his hand was one of the weird ones he should be looking for. “They’re called peaberry. Normally, a coffee cherry has two seeds in it, or beans. Those two seeds mature in the center of the cherry and you get one flat side and one side touching it. Sometimes people call them ‘flat beans’ but those are the ‘normal’ beans, as you said,” you explained, sifting through your bowl rather quickly. “But the peaberry ones only have one bean inside. The bean is round, so that’s where the name ‘peaberry’ comes from, because—“

“Because it’s round so it looks like a pea, oh I get it! That’s funny,” he laughed, examining the rounded bean in front of him. “Okay, got it, so we’re sorting the peaberry from the flat beans?”

“You proud of your new vocab words?” You snorted, listening for the well known tink of a bean hitting the empty metal bowls. He giggled in acknowledgement.

You worked in relative silence, a small rhythm growing between the two of you. Johnny worked at about half the speed you did, but you couldn’t knock him for it, as it had taken you a while to pick up the pace when you first started hand sorting like this.

“How do you even know Yunho?” You finally asked. Four weeks since he’d arrived, and you’d never bothered to get to know him well enough to listen to the full story of how he’d ended up here.

Johnny shifted in his seated position, clearly a little taken aback that you’d bothered to ask him anything, given your track record. “Oh. Met him in Chicago when I was home visiting. At a local coffee shop, where my buddy Jaehyun is the manager. I went to go bother Jaehyun at work and he was just, shootin’ the shit with one of his coffee suppliers who was doing a visit. That supplier was Yunho. Started talking about how he owned the farm where the beans were grown, and that he wasn’t going to be able to spend the summer out there like he’d planned, so he was looking for some reliable help to uh, take care of things. Mentioned someone else would be on site and in charge, but offered the whole ‘room and board in exchange for copious amounts of physical labor’.”

“And you said yes? Just like that, no questions asked?” It seemed a little too easy, but then again, Johnny had proved to be a little too easygoing.

He shrugged. “Well, yeah. That’s kinda the point of my whole year. Just, go with the flow.” You glanced over, but Johnny was looking down, focused on the task at hand.

You nodded and hummed and turned back to your own basin to continue sorting. A few beats passed by before you couldn’t help yourself— “You’ve said that before. ‘Go with the flow’, or that you ‘had nothing else going on’. What do you mean by that?”

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Johnny’s ears perk up, followed by movement of his cheeks implying the curve of a slight smile. “I’m on a gap year, I guess is what the kids would say. Or maybe sabbatical? Though it’s not like I have any tenure enough to qualify for the real meaning of the term. But yeah, anyways— year off from work. Not getting paid or anything, but, when it’s over if I want it, my old job is waiting for me.”

“How come? That seems so—”

“Impulsive?”

You frowned. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he repeated, but not in a mocking manner— it was in agreement. “I guess the best way to explain it is this: I was a huge workaholic. I’ve only had my one job post grad after studying business, and I woke up one morning a month before my twenty-fifth birthday and realized it was sucking the soul out of me. It was all I ate, slept, breathed, and it wasn’t even what I wanted to be doing with my life, I realized.”

His pain started sounding all too familiar. “What is it you wanted to do instead, then?”

Even under the mask covering the lower half of his face, his smile reached his eyes. “Photography. I got into an art school when I was applying to colleges, but it just seemed so… risky. I would’ve had to take out loans and instead I got almost a full ride for a bigger university, so I went for that instead. Studied business, managed to grind through undergrad and grad school in four years and walked out with a combined BS and MBA. Took classes every summer to make it happen. I think after graduation, I went back to my parents house and passed out and slept for twenty-three hours straight,” he laughed, clearly recalling a specific memory. “I felt really accomplished when it was over, and even had the job offer already lined up. But I wish I had had more courage to study what I was truly passionate about.

“So after an almost three year long stint at the company and a vested 401k, I decided to take a year off to just, travel the world a bit. I grinded so hard through college I never got the chance to do study abroad, so I guess I wanted to make up for that? I never used to act on impulse or follow my heart, so, that was the goal for this year. To do only that.”

His words struck you differently. This was a whole new side to Johnny that you really weren’t expecting— not that you had a particularly three dimensional view of him to begin with. “And your heart lead you here… to my brother-in-law’s coffee farm?”

He laughed again, trying to hide just how thrilled he was that you were actually engaging in a full on conversation with him. “Well, sort of. My year off started back in February, day before my birthday. Got on a plane and did a few months backpack trip around Asia. I had no clue what would be next, thought maybe Australia, maybe Europe, but when I got off the plane in Chicago to see my mom and regroup on my packing, I decided to go straight from the airport to surprise and bother Jaehyun at his coffee shop. That day I met Yunho. That was a little over six weeks ago. And now I’m here, with you.”

There was something about the way he said that that didn’t sit well in your stomach— with you, like it was a good thing, like he liked it. You didn’t deign him with a response to the end of his story. Like an extension of the current state of your mind, your hands were reaching, feeling around for something, but you were only met with the flat surface of the bottom of the basin.

You looked down to see the last of the metal bowls was empty. Somehow, you’d managed to sort through all twenty pounds of coffee beans. You pulled the face mask down under your chin as you stared at the metal surface for a moment before standing abruptly and turning on your heels.

Confused, Johnny called your name out after you questioningly. “It’s getting late and I’m hungry. You uh, bag up the peaberry and set it aside and then wash out all the metal trays,” you gave him his next set of tasks quickly to make your escape back to the farmhouse to put some distance between the two of you.

A little over an hour later, you’d put together a curry on the stove with some stew meat and a base that included apples, carrots, potatoes, and melted dark chocolate for a more mellow sweet taste to balance it out. You thought about the first time Johnny complimented your cooking when it was just eggs, and how he’d continued to compliment it with every new meal you’d make. You wouldn’t call yourself a chef by any means, thinking that enjoying your go-to recipes would be a more acquired taste, and were in the midst of serving yourself when Johnny came inside with the dog trailing behind him. You didn’t bother saying much, you never did when you’d finished cooking a meal; just a grunt acknowledging his presence and a head nod at the food before you took your bowl and went through the door to go sit on the lanai by yourself. Absent-mindedly, you whistled for the dog to follow you.

Johnny kept to himself that night, eating at the kitchen table, content with looking up out the bay window to see you hand feeding small chunks of meat from your bowl to the dog, even going so far as to pet its head. He shook his head to himself thinking about how you pretended to be so opposed to the dog, and how you still hadn’t given it a name, and smiled as he took another bite.

✧ ✧ ✧

At five weeks, you stopped watching Johnny like a hawk, and started giving him more lengthy tasks that you, quite frankly, just didn’t want to do yourself. Though, if you were being honest, every task you gave him was one you didn’t want to do yourself.

Such as his current one, which was to prep the ground for a new row of sapling fruit trees. You’d walked down from the farmhouse over the hill to the open area next to a row of lemon and guava trees where you’d set him to the task of digging a row of four foot wide, four foot deep holes. The week after next, Jin’s delivery would be a much larger one, and include a number of sapling fruit trees from his family’s farm— rambutans, limes, and mangos, to name a few. You wanted to make sure the holes got dug and the irrigation system set in place properly well in advance.

When you came to a stop at the end of the row of freshly dug holes in the ground you blinked once. Twice. A third time. The sight before you was impossible to comprehend. Because not only was Johnny finishing digging the last of ten massive holes having taken less than three hours to do so, but he had been digging them shirtless.

“What. What?” You asked, staring, eyes wide and brow furrowed.

“Huh?” He asked, looking up from the bottom of the last hole and swishing his head to get his bangs, matted with sweat against his forehead, out of his face. The sun had crested over to this side of the hill now and it was blisteringly hot out. Standing in direct sunlight, doing physical labor, obviously he’d worked up a sweat.

You had to tear your eyes away from the shine on his torso and return them to just his face. “Where the fuck is your shirt?”

He pointed to where a lump of fabric was off to the side next to a water bottle. “It’s fucking hot out, I was dying,” he reasoned.

“You’re hot,” you mumbled under your breath, turning on your heel to give yourself reprieve from the onslaught that was Johnny’s unexpected number of defined abdominal muscles that were usually covered by cotton t shirts.

“What was that?” He called, squinting up into the sun from the bottom of the hole.

“I said, put a god damn shirt on before you come back in my house,” you called back, already wrapping your arms around yourself and heading back to the farmhouse. “And dinner’ll be ready in twenty, so finish up,” you added, trudging off before he could respond.

What you would have seen if you’d turned back around was an open mouthed smile curl across his face, as Johnny hummed to himself at the joy he felt for this, the first time you’d bothered to warn him when dinner would be ready.

✧ ✧ ✧

Ever since you’d seen Johnny shirtless, you’d be restless.

Well, restless was the polite word. The word to better describe what you’d been feeling was… frustrated?

Distracted? Peeved? Worked up?

Horny.

The word you were avoiding was horny.

Wendy had been the one to get you to admit it during your last weekly phone call. You told her about the shirtless incident and the first thing she asked was if you had plans to throw out the washing machine and instead start doing your laundry on Johnny’s abs, which did not help your predicament any further. It was also Wendy who had pointed out that you’d been alone on this farm for almost two months with a dog and a man too pretty for his own good, and despite how he represented everything you were annoyed at in life at the moment, after seeing his half naked figure, it would only be natural for you to have been a little turned on. And a little turned on was exactly where you were— for the last week, you had been going on runs every night to release the excess pent up energy you suddenly had.

The last time you exercised this much you were still in college. Back then you went on hour long runs through the city with your phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ because it was the only way you weren’t constantly bombarded with an on onslaught of messages from classmates, friends, family, or your on campus job that took up way too much of your time. And now, you found yourself returning to old habits, this time because what, you were too proud to just rub one out like the rest of humanity? (That phrasing, too, was courtesy of your best friend, when she again reminded you of your failure to pack your vibrator.)

After another eight miles up and down the road outside the farm that ran along the island’s coast your legs felt like absolute jello when you finished, but your head was empty enough that you were able to return to the property and exist near Johnny in peace. You walked by the barn on your way up to the farmhouse, sticking your head inside briefly to look for him. You didn’t hear any noise, and didn’t find him at first glance, but didn’t think much of it as you went back inside.

The dog was already in the kitchen, so that should have been your first clue. You opened the fridge and peered inside, pulling out a number of assorted ingredients to make a lemon cream sauce for pasta with chicken.

You set a pot of water to boil, turned the oven on to preheat, and began melting butter, garlic, oil, and a variety of herbs in a sauce pan. That plus the low hum of the overhead fan meant just enough noise that you couldn’t hear the water running from the small shower on the other side of the house, and you didn’t think twice as the heat cast off by the appliances made you feel even stuffier post-run, and you peeled your shirt off your body and rolled the waistband of your shorts down an inch, pressing your bare feet flat against the hardwood flooring to try and get some semblance of cooling relief.

It was only a few moments later, with the water boiling and pasta cooking inside and the chicken already seasoned and in the oven, when you peered over the bubbling sauce pan and dipped the edge of your pinky into the mixture to bring just a taste up to your mouth. Just like you’d hoped, it was light and had a kick of citrus to it from the lemon, but not so much that it was overpowering. You closed your eyes and hummed in appreciation as you licked the sauce off, which, in retrospect, probably sounded far too much like a moan for your own good.

“Jesus fuck—”

And suddenly, you realized you weren’t alone inside the house.

You screamed at first from the shock of being startled by the noise, and then again when it registered in your brain that Johnny was standing in the kitchen, hair dripping wet, chest bare and abdominal muscles just as defined as the last time you’d seen them, face flushed in some sort of embarrassment with a bath towel wrapped around his hips.

Johnny was fresh out of the shower, nearly naked in your kitchen, clutching his clothes balled up in his left hand.

You scream again.

“What are you doing?!” You shrieked out, raising your voice over the dog’s excited barking at the commotion the two of you had begun making.

He stammered for a moment, clearly frozen in place. “I was just! You were gone, and I was done for the day, so I took a shower but I— I forgot my change of clothes in my room and these towels are small and just— Jesus why are you wearing so little clothing?!”

Your fury returned full force at the comment. “Why am I wearing so little clothing? You’re in a towel for fuck’s sake! This is my house, I live here! I should be the one asking you where your clothes are!”

“They’re here, in my hand!” He yelled back, waving the bundle around frantically. “I just said I forgot them when I went to shower!”

Your eyes bugged out of you head as your gaze traveled down, taking in the entirety of the figure before you and— oh.

“Are you… are you hard right now?” You asked in bewilderment.

The way the color drained out of Johnny’s face and the speed with which he moved the bundle of clothing to hold it over the space between his legs answered your question.

“Oh, my god.” Exasperated, you slammed your eyes shut and held your hands up by your sides. “What the fuck, John.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean— fuck, shit I made it weird— please don’t get mad, I can totally fix this,” he started spewing apologies, and you heard him take two steps closer to you. “Wait, were you looking at my dick?”

“Ah!” You spat out, turning away from him. His question was valid but you had no intention of acknowledging it. “Out! Get out of my house, go… somewhere else until that goes away or you can, I don’t know, take care of it!” You instantly thought of the implication of your words and then yelled again. “No— don’t— fuck, don’t do that! Jesus for the love of god don’t take care of it while I’m standing here—” you were stammering and beyond flustered. How the fuck were you supposed to talk to someone who had just gotten a fucking boner by looking at you, sweaty in a sports bra, while sucking a cream colored substance off the tip of your pinky?

You exhaled deeply, eyes still closed. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You are going to go to your room. I am going to finish cooking my dinner. You will be absolutely silent until you hear me leave. I will be staying at the condo for the next week. You will either ration the leftovers or fend for yourself, I do not care. Got it?” You signed out again, eyes flicking open. Johnny held his bundle of clothes in front of his legs and nodded his head once, not bothering with any comeback before he shuffled to the guest room and shut the door quietly.

It took another twenty minutes for the meat to finish cooking and the dish to be full prepared. How you managed to keep your head empty and shut off your internal monologue during that time, you’ll never know, but you were thankful for it nonetheless. You packed two servings into a Tupperware container for yourself before shoving some clothes in a duffle bag and grabbing the keys to the jeep you hated driving. It was only about ten minutes down the road to the condo, but it was almost fifteen miles, so you figured this was the lesser of two evils. You whistled for the dog to follow you, and it was all too excited to jump in the passenger seat of the car. The farmhouse was now dry of liquor, what with Yunho not making good on his promise a month ago and your weekly wine dates with Wendy, but you knew the condo definitely had some spirits stashed somewhere in a cabinet. You were going to need that and a nice hot bath to destress after that encounter.

Meanwhile, Johnny sunk down on to the floor inside the guest room, his back pressed against the door. When he heard the sound of the jeep’s engine turning over, he sighed in relief and ran a hand through his hair. There were no better words to describe it: he was truly and utterly fucked.

✧ ✧ ✧

You stayed at the condo only for three days, and did little other than sleep, binge watch some TV since there was better electricity and internet here, and eat your way through slightly stale bags of chips and frost bitten freezer dinners that were months old. Because you couldn’t just open the door and let the dog out to run through the property for whatever exercise or bathroom needs it had, you had to actually walk it with a leash and everything. You paid less attention to how domestic the action of clipping the leash on to the collar you’d found in an unopened delivery package on the kitchen table was, and thought more about how slothful you’d felt over the last 60-odd hours of self isolation, especially after two months of working outdoors every day.

It was childish to keep hiding from Johnny. It’s not like you could prove that he’d gotten hard looking at you, and really, shouldn’t you take it as sort of a compliment? (Well, maybe you wouldn’t go that far.)

It was Monday when you returned to the farm, parking the jeep back by the barn and hip checking the door shut after the dog went running off in search of Johnny. It found him carrying pruned branches of trees down to the area where you burned excess brush, and you could hear the excited sound of his voice at the return of the creature as you walked slowly down the hill towards him.

“I missed you! It’s been so lonely without you, but I guess I’m glad your mommy had you with her, huh?” He cooed at the dog, rubbing its face in his hands after dropping the bundle of branches and flopping its ears from side to side. Hearing Johnny refer to you as a mother, even of the animal, had you grimacing.

“Ew,” you said, making your presence known. He stood up suddenly, possibly just a little embarrassed.

“Oh! You’re uh, you’re back.” You nodded, lips pressed together in a flat line. Your hands were full, carrying two takeout coffees from a shop down near the condo you’d stopped at on the way back. You’d forgotten how much the farm felt like a different planet, a different space in time almost, because of how isolated it felt. The act of ordering a coffee to go rather than making it yourself in the morning was equal parts bewildering and soothing.

You had no idea what compelled you to order an iced americano along with the cortado you’d gotten for yourself. You didn’t really know much about Johnny beyond the one conversation you’d had about how he ended up meeting your brother in law and crashing on the farm with you in the first place. But somehow, ordering the drink had felt right, and you thought of it as a potential peace offering to cut the tension.

“This is yours,” you said plainly after some thought, trying to remove any and all emotion from your tone.

He blinked a few times before taking three steps towards you and reaching his hand out to take the drink. He mumbled a soft thank you and sipped without bothering to ask what was inside.

“You’re just going to take the drink a stranger offers you, no questions asked?”

“Ooh!” His eyes perked up when he tasted the coffee. “I mean, I’ve never questioned any of the food you’ve made me so far, why start now? Besides,” he shrugged, taking another sip, “I trust you.”

You snorted. “That’s a stupid thing to do.”

Johnny laughed again, eyes crinkling at the sides. Your mind wandered briefly to a half formed thought about how endearing that was. “Maybe so, but despite your efforts to make me an enemy, I think you’re actually a really good person. You even guessed my favorite coffee drink, so that has to count for something.” He nodded to the paper cup in your hand. “What’s your poison?”

“Cortado,” responded curtly, ignoring his comments that were cutting a bit too deep for ten in the morning.

“Ah, a strong espresso pull with a balance of steam milk and a touch of foam. Nice choice. I can definitely appreciate one, but I’m a little too impatient and drink them too quickly— I think that’s why I love americanos so much, because it lasts a little longer.”

You tilted you head to the side, puzzled. “Wait. You… actually know things about coffee?”

“I mean, yeah,” he laughed, “What do you think I spent three hours talking with Yunho about the day we met? I did my time as a barista in college. Free coffee every shift was hard to pass up when you’re doing almost a double course load every other semester. I’ve always been curious about the growing and roasting process, and I know a lot of people do home roasting as a hobby but I just never made the time to explore it.”

Well, duh, you thought, that actually made sense. “Oh god, and here I’ve been making my lame ass bitter pour over all summer— you know how to pull a shot of espresso then I take it? You’ve seen the La Marzocco on the counter, how come you’ve never used it?”

He pouted his lips out in a flat line and shrugged comically. “Dunno. I mean, I’m a guest and a worker first, and it’s not mine, so, I didn’t wanna make any assumptions. But if this is an open invitation to use it, I’m more than happy to accept.”

You chewed on the inside of your mouth for a moment. You could feel it in the air as the hairs on your arms stood up slightly, goosebumps running down your skin. You hoped in wasn’t too noticeable. Maybe this was it— maybe it really was time to extend an olive branch and have more than half a conversation with him every four days. “It’s a little older and sort of temperamental, but it’s still a good machine. I’ll… show you the quirks tomorrow morning, or whenever you want something to drink,” you offered.

It was then that you discovered this: Johnny was not a great actor. He wore his heart on his sleeve. You figured this to be true because he could barely contain the smile that spread across his face, and the energetic nod he gave, and the mild soft exhale (squeal?) of excitement. You rolled your eyes gently and turned away, drink in hand. “When it cools down later after dinner, I’m roasting tonight. You’re welcome to join.”

You gave him the benefit of not bearing witness to the fist pump he made as you walked away.

Dinner that night was stir fried ground pork with carrots and zucchini from the garden served over rice. It was one of your comfort dishes, easy to make and easy to clean up after, since it used only two pans. As soon as you’d finished eating, this time sitting at the table together with Johnny, he’d cleared the dishes and got to cleaning up right away. You stretched your arms overhead and leaned back in your chair far enough to crack your back slightly with a loud pop.

“Oof, that sounded like it felt good,” he laughed from the sink. You hummed in agreement. “So what’d you do before this? Desk job hunched over a computer like the rest of us?”

“Mmm something like that. You may have been bored out of your mind in business, but I sold my soul years ago to work in advertising.”

“Why does that like, fit?” He asked, turning the water off and drying the pan you’d used for cooking by hand.

“You saying I have no soul?” You challenged.

He shrugged. “Hey, you said it, not me. We’re both just cogs in the machine that is late stage capitalism, I guess.”

You didn’t know how deeply you wanted to get into it with Johnny just yet. Maybe eventually, but, not right now. “Yeah, well, I was just a Project Manager, not like a Copywriter or anything. Did you know Yunho was a staff Art Director before he switched to the coffee business full time? We used to work at the same agency a few years back.”

Johnny snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “Ah, that’s right! I remember him saying something about that, made the same jokes about having no soul. You two are a lot alike for not being related by blood.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong; sometimes you wondered if you’d become closer with Yunho that you were with your sister at this point. “Enough about that. If you’re done follow me, it’s probably cool enough to fire up the roaster. I just want to do a test batch of like, five pounds with the regular beans to see how this year’s harvest takes to our standard roast,” you explained, heading to the door and slipping on your sneakers. “Don’t let the dog out, it gets scared from the loud noises and I don’t need it freaking out.”

Johnny dried his hands and followed after you to the barn. You flicked on the lights and went straight for the sink to pull your hair out of your face, wash your hands, and put on a pair of gloves and a mask. Johnny followed your lead, even going so far as to tie up the top layer of his hair on top of his head. “Hey look! It’s like an apple,” he bobbed his head from side to side to make the tiny ponytail move back and forth, and you couldn’t help but snort as you tried to suppress your laughter.

“Dork,” was all you said. You went to the storage racks to pick up one of the sorted burlap bags of beans and hoisted it over your shoulder to carry it to a metal prep table where you carefully opened it and began scooping out the green beans and pouring them into a bowl on a metal scale that had been zeroed out. “So  obviously you know that coffee is counted by weight in pounds. That monstrosity,” you jerked your head in the direction of the massive eight foot tall machine in the corner of the room, “Can handle up to twenty-five pounds of beans in the barrel at a time. Because it’s so big, it’s best to not do super small batches, otherwise you risk burning the beans. Since I’m going for five pounds, it’ll be okay, but if I was doing any less I’d use one of the table top roasters, since they have a smaller barrel.” You finished weighing out five pounds and handed the container to him to carry.

You continued explaining the full process of roasting and science behind it as you flipped switches, checked that the exhaust was hooked up properly, and set the dials for the heat and time on the industrial roaster before pulling the door to the funnel open and having Johnny slowly pour the beans inside. “God you’re a fucking giant, I always need a step stool to reach that high,” you commented as he made the reach with ease.

You weren’t kidding when you said the roaster was loud when it was running. Thankfully with the size of the machine and this batch, it was only eleven minutes of the two of you standing just a few feet away in case anything went wrong and you had to hit the emergency stop, holding your hands over your ears to block the sound. Johnny began jokingly exaggerating mouthing something out, and you felt almost like friends as you laughed at his antics. You were never the best at reading lips. Especially not Johnny’s, they were too full and distracting on their own for you to make sense of the mouth shapes. When the machine came to a grinding halt and the noise suddenly stopped, he was still shouting words and his voice echoed around the space in the absence of the noise, “I said, I think you’re— oh, wow, that was fast,” he quickly diverted, catching himself from finishing whatever it was he was about to say.

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of trying to pry out of him what he was in the process of saying under the protection of the loud noises. You shook it off mentally and showed him how to remove the beans from the roasting chamber. “So you take them out like this, and then they’re still going to be warm for a while, so it’s best to let them rest for a bit. If you were to brew them right away, the flavor might not be what you’re expecting, so if you wait for them to sit for a few days, you’ll notice a considerable difference in the flavor profile—”

You stopped suddenly, a sound in the distance suddenly registering to you. You left Johnny standing there with the roasted coffee in hand and trailed to the edge of the barn and then you heard it more clearly— the sound of the old rotary phone ringing. “Oh, shit,” you swore and took off running back up to the house. The only person who had the number for the landline other than Wendy were Yunho and your sister. Wendy didn’t call you outside of your Thursday night appointments. You did the math in your head— it was the end of June, your sister’s due date wasn’t til the end of August, but early labor was always something you’d heard about, especially with more than one baby.

Hands shaking, you got to the phone on what could have been the last ring and panted out a greeting of Yunho’s name, already knowing it was him.

“Oh thank god you answered, I’ve been calling for the last twenty minutes, where were you?” He chastised immediately. You felt uneasy at the tone in his voice.

You stammered in response. “I— we were in the barn, I was roasting so I couldn’t hear the phone— what’s wrong? Is she okay?”

Yunho sighed out heavily and was quiet. “She’s going to be okay, but there was a… scare,” you could tell he was choosing his words carefully. “I don’t want to freak you out, but I don’t want to not tell you either. She slipped getting out of the shower, landed on her hip. Started having lower abdominal pain right after. We thought maybe it was going to be now, but, she’s fine. The doctors think they were phantom contractions? Whatever they were they’re gone now. The babies are fine, but she’ll most likely be in the hospital until the due date. If she starts experiencing any kind of contractions between now and then, though, they’ll want to induce labor.” You could tell he was still stressed and worried, but you nodded and listened as he explained some of the medical details a bit further. “Anyways, all this to say, the next time I call, it could be to tell you that you’re an auntie.”

From the moment you heard the phone ringing this late at night and calculated that it was almost two in the morning in Chicago, the tightness in your chest had been building. Listening to Yunho speak delicately about your sister’s condition was one thing— you thought it was a sigh of relief when he said that everything was fine, but then it was most certainly not fine when the gravity of his last words really hit you.

“Little Bean are you listening? Is the signal bad? I know the connection isn’t always great—”

You inhaled sharply as the pressure inside came to a head. “Yunho I gotta go,” you gasped out, barely able to make sense of thoughts to get the words out.

Before you could hear his rebuttal you slammed the phone on to the receiver to end the call and covered your face with your hands still in their nylon gloves. Despite standing in an open space, you suddenly felt like the room was spinning and the walls were closing in on you. Out, out, you had to get out—

“Hey, everything okay in here?”

Fuck.

Johnny was standing in the door, a look of concern on his face. You heaved into your hands and choked out a sob, feeling the wetness in your eyes building. No no no, everything was most certainly not okay in here. You shouldn’t have made eye contact, you should have known better, because looking at his face, his stupid perfect face and his genuine care for your wellbeing, it set you free falling over the precipice.

You were spiraling, and hard, and needed to land. It was instinctual, the way you cried out and ran pushing past him before breaking into an all out sprint down the hill to the fruit trees. Your legs barely kept up with the velocity of running at a decline, stopping short of tumbling and falling forward. The only thing that you knew to help this, the thing that had worked for you in the past, and you raced through the grove of trees for the larger one at the very end. It was one of the older trees, well mature and established with its root system, so you could always expect it to produce fruit.

But you’d harvested a large amount of the fruit in the last few weeks from the lower branches, and the only remaining fruit that would be ripe enough for your purposes was on the higher branches just out of reach. Over the sound of your pained sobs, you couldn’t hear Johnny’s approach or him asking what was wrong, your one track mind just trying desperately to jump and reach, fingertips barely brushing on the fruit you were reaching for.

“Hey hey, calm down, what are you—” he started.

“Shut up! Just shut— don’t tell— don’t tell me calm— calm—” you couldn’t make the words make sense, in your head you were screaming don’t tell me to calm down, but the act of translating that into words on your tongue was downright Herculean right now, it just wasn’t happening. Your knees began wobbling and standing too started feeling impossible. The tightness in your chest had expanded to reach your back, and though you were clearly still getting air by the fact that you hadn’t passed out yet, you felt like you weren’t breathing at all. You were crying outright now, tears wet and hot and painful as the sobs escaped your throat.

It didn’t take a genius to figure that you were trying to reach a fruit on a branch just above your wingspan. Johnny placed one large hand against your back gently and reached all the way up, fingers wrapping around what he assumed was the object of your fixation, before twisting and pulling to release it from the tree. “Hey,” he said softly, “This what you need?”

As soon as you made sense of the object in front of you you seized it from his hands, biting directly through the rind of the lemon. A muffled sob came out as your knees buckled and you sank to the ground. The bitter rush of citrus did part of its job, and brought your consciousness back down to earth. But your breathing didn’t steady, and your heart was still pounding, and the tears were still falling.

It wasn’t working, your grounding technique; not like it had the previous times, like the night you’d first gotten the phone call from Yunho saying they weren’t coming, and not like the time you bit into a lemon in the kitchen at work after first getting the phone call that your sister was pregnant, and even the time before that when she told you she and Yunho were moving, or when Yunho had asked you if he could marry your sister. If you were more with it, you would have thought for a moment longer about how all of your largest panic attacks of the last several years seemed to be linked to things about Yunho and your sister. Biting into a whole lemon had been your go-to for years, and suddenly, it wasn’t working.

“Fuck!” You cried out, spitting the lemon into your palms, “Fuck fuck fuck! Why isn’t it— why isn’t it working?!” Your words were absolutely frantic, and you were yelling at yourself more than your companion who, quite frankly, you’d forgotten was even there.

Until you felt a shadow pass over you in the moonlight and a pair of arms enveloping you in an embrace.

The top of your head was pressed against his chest and his hands found their way to the planes of your back and began rubbing soft circles. Softly he tutted out a shushing noise, voice barely above a whisper, steady. “Come on, let it out, I’m right here. I’ve got you, you’re not alone,” he said calmly, “You’re gonna get through it. Try to take a deep breath, that’s good now hold it as long as you can— okay, that’s okay, try again, try to hold on to it and let it out slowly this time.”

You’d never had anyone physically with you and help you through a panic attack before. You’d had them around people in the past, but no one had ever made a move to help you through it— not like this, not like him, not like he was doing right now by attempting to guide your breathing. The one time you had one in front on Wendy, you’d locked yourself in the bathroom and refused to answer her while you came down, and she never pressed you about it afterwards.

You had no idea how much time passed as Johnny held you in his arms, keeping a steady rhythm of his palms on your back and letting you cry it out into the fabric of his shirt, your hands wringing the material so strongly you thought you’d tear holes where your nails were.

One hand traveled to the back of your head and he stroked that too. “I’ve got you, I’m right here,” he said again.

After a longer period of silence, your ears stopped ringing and you could finally make out the chirping of the crickets in the night. You sniffled and rubbed the last of the trails the tears had left on your cheeks into his shirt, mumbling an apology into it.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly, keeping his voice low, almost as if he was afraid he’d scare you off if he raised it any higher. “I mean— haha, don’t apologize. It’s okay, whatever it is, it’ll wash out. If it doesn’t, it’s just a tee shirt, I can always buy another.” His tone was even paced and calm, and in pressing your ear against his chest you could hear the reverberations as he spoke.

The humid summer air was heavy as usual, even this late at night. You don’t know how long you sat there in silence, wrapped in Johnny’s arms listening to his heartbeat, but eventually you acknowledged that your heart was beating in time with his. Whether you liked it or not, he had been the thing to ground you, and not a stupid fucking lemon.

You shifted slightly, making a move to stand, but Johnny stopped you. “Whoa whoa, hang on lemme get ready— okay, hold on to my shoulders, that’s it.” Your fingers dug into his arms as he adjusted his legs and hooked one arm under your knees and the other around your back and stood up, taking you with him.

“Shit,” you mumbled out, head rushing at the quick movement and the realization that your legs were still bent over his arm, and Johnny was now carrying you. “Hey, heavy,” your words were still soft.

“Mmm, nah, nothing I can’t handle,” his response was easy, dismissive of your complaint, but not in a bad way. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to but— anxiety? Panic attack?” You sucked in a breath at the word. You hated that word. That word made you feel weak, even if it was exactly what this was. You dug your nails into his skin slightly on a reflex of bracing yourself, not with this intention of inflicting damage. “Got it. I get it,” he had approached the house and walked to the door, reaching for the handle with the hand under your knees. “I’ve had a few myself. Not recently, but back in college, maybe two or three? Don’t think they were ever as strong as that, though. I tried the lemon trick once, it actually worked pretty well for me. Didn’t make the next time I did a tequila shot all that fun though, couldn’t enjoy citrus for at least a month after that.” His soft laughter shook his chest and you leaned in further. Listening to his voice was comforting. It was keeping you steady. It made you feel safe, and in this moment, you were too tired to think about how you probably should have hated that. “Think you could swallow some water? Rehydrating is important.”

Your head nodded. “Okay, I’m gonna put you down now.” He used his foot to push one of the chairs away from the table and set you down on to the seat gently. The dog was immediately at your knees, whining lowly and attempting to give as many kisses as you’d accept. “Here,” he said gently, crouching down in front of you and holding a glass out. “Drink what can, but not too fast. There you go, that’s it,” his large hand clasped over your knee, thumb rubbing circles on the side. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah,” you rasped out, voice raw from all the crying earlier.

Johnny smiled softly. “Good, that’s good. Okay, I think you need to get to bed, yeah? Or do you wanna take a shower or something first?” You shook your head. “Okay, just washed your face then?” You nodded. Your conscious monologue was returning, but bringing words from your mind to your mouth was still proving difficult. Johnny didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he offered you his hand. “Need help getting up?”

You answered by gripping on to his hand and using his shoulders to help you stand up. Johnny walked you to your room, holding his arm out for you as a guide. You were able to bear weight on your feet now, and though your steps were slow, you made it to the bathroom to wash your face and and change into sleepwear. Johnny waited by the door, averting his eyes for privacy for you, and returned to your side to help you into bed.

When he leaned over you to pull the sheets up, you reached for his wrist and asked, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

His face went blank before it softened into a smile. “Because. I told you earlier, didn’t I? You’re a good person. Should be simple as that, yeah?”

You didn’t have a response for him, only shifting deeper into the pillows. He turned off the light and retreated to the door frame. “Try and get some rest. Call me if you need me, okay?”

Your head managed a nod, and Johnny finally left, leaving the door to your room slightly ajar. You listened for the sounds of him milling about the house, his footsteps softly shuffling against the floorboards, a few mumbled words to the dog that followed at his heels, until you finally fell asleep.

When you dreamed that night, you dreamt of him, the sound of his voice, and the way your blood felt on fire whenever he looked at you and smiled.

✧ ✧ ✧

Johnny never asked you about the panic attack.

He didn’t bring it up, he didn’t ask what caused it, he didn’t even allude to it in any conversation over the next week. The next day he was just a little bit more gentle with you with the tone and volume of his speaking voice, but when you showed no signs of still be affected from the previous night, he let it go and didn’t bother you about it.

You couldn’t tell if you loved him or hated him for it.

Confusion on your feelings aside, as June came to a close and the morning of July 3rd came, you woke up to the sound of the espresso machine running. Johnny had very quickly proven that he was worth his salt as a barista, even though it had been several years, and had a very nice shot pull. He even figured out the steamer, which was the most finicky part of the machine, and had been making you cortados every morning. That’s what you were sipping now from a metal camper mug, as you walked with him to the shed.

“I think that all that’s left is nailing down that last sheet of roofing and then we’re done,” he hummed cheerfully, inspecting the building. It looked brand new, a marked improvement from the broken windows and bleached paint job it had sported two months ago.

Two months. Was that really how long he’d been here? You didn’t want to think too much about it, about how those two months gone meant you had reached the half way point, and that there were about two months left.

Two months…

“We should celebrate,” he said suddenly, and you looked up puzzled.

“We?”

“Sure!” He exclaimed, “I had no idea what I was doing. I just did what you told me to. This was one of the biggest projects for the summer, right? And plus, not that I care too much for the holiday, but won’t there be fireworks and stuff for the Fourth? Come on, this house has been dry for weeks, let’s go get some booze and live a little, huh?” He prodded your side with his elbow and began needling at you, saying huh, huh, huh over and over until you groaned and relented.

“Fiiiiiine, let’s go before the stores get crowded when everyone realizes everything’s gonna be closed tomorrow.”

The dog was less than pleased that you’d sent it back into the house when you picked up the keys to the jeep. Usually you took it with you, but this time you decided against it, since you weren’t sure how the liquor store would feel with you bringing the stray dog off leash into the store with you.

“All you, big guy,” you said to Johnny as you tossed the car keys at him.

“Aren’t you gonna ask if I know how to drive first?” He quipped back quickly while walking to the driver’s side.

“Nah,” you shrugged comically, hoisting yourself up by the frame of the car. You buckled yourself in and watched as he did the same and adjusted the mirrors for his height. “Besides,” you looked down to inspect your fingernails as if they were the most fascinating thing on the planet, “I trust you, or whatever.”

“Bit of a stupid thing to do, but alright,” he smiled, echoing your words back at you. “Kidding, I’m an excellent driver. Alright, co-pilot! You have the most sacred duty bestowed upon you—”

“Navigation?”

“No, music selection, duh,” he scoffed and handed you the aux cord and pulled out a cell phone you’d never seen him hold before. You stared at the device as he unlocked it and pulled up his music library. Johnny noticed your surprised expression out of the corner of his eye. “What, it’s not like I have a use for it out here. Your wifi sucks and I’m not about to rack up a huge cell phone bill, so it stays off in my duffle bag most of the time. Anyways, this is a test! Pick whatever your heart desires.” The smirk on his face was beyond mischievous as he handed it to you.

You sighed and settled into the seat and began scrolling. What to pick, what to pick…

Surprisingly, there was a decent number of songs you recognized, and one album in particular you were a fan of. You scrolled down the track listing to about the half way point and pressed play.

The sounds of The Killers and the familiar guitar chords that were practically sewn into your DNA began to filter through the speakers. Johnny smiled and started clapping as the car reached the bottom of the driveway and he flipped on the turn signal. “Oh my god, Mr. Brightside, excellent choice! Okay, you passed the first test. But do you know the words?” He teased.

You gasped in feigned offense as the lyrics came to the chorus, and as he accelerated up to speed you began to belt the words out as loud as you could manage. For once you weren’t thinking about how you hated that the jeep had no top while the wind whipped past you on all sides as Johnny sped down the highway. As the song played, the magic high of belting the words to something fifteen years old that were still imprinted in your brain didn’t seem to wear off like you’d expected it to.

“Alright, chop chop what’s next maestro!” He called over the sound of the wind as the song came to a close. You already had something queued up, something a little more recent, and you smiled as the words to the next song began filtering through the speakers, letting the music carry the drive and not belting along with it this time. You tried to not think too deeply about the lyrics of the chorus as it played.  

'Cause you're the last of a dying breed Write our names in the wet concrete I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me? I'm here in search of your glory There's been a million before me That ultra-kind of love You never walk away from You're just the last of the real ones

As the bridge played and you neared your destination, Johnny tilted his head towards you while keeping his eyes on the road. “Growing up, it was like, a badge of honor as a Chicago kid to have gone to a Fall Out Boy show when they still played the smaller clubs. I snuck into one when I was 16— it was an 18 and over show— felt like I was hot shit when I got away with it.”

“Don’t know why, but you don’t strike me as a Fall Out Boy fan,” you admitted. From your scroll through his music library, you saw most of their discography saved to his phone.

“Hey, I had my embarrassing wannabe emo phase too.”

“Had?” You couldn’t stop yourself from teasing. Johnny didn’t give a response to that one, and as another Fall Out Boy song played through the speakers you let yourself rest in a comfortable lack of conversation, instead sharing the music with him as he drove. It only took to the end of that third song to reach your destination and based on how he handled the drive and parking, true to his word Johnny was an excellent driver.

Johnny followed you closely once inside, his eyes scanning up and down the shelves of the tiny liquor store before he reaches and picks up a six pack of pilsner. “You ever try this one?”

Your nose wrinkles in disgust. “I don’t do beer.”

Johnny blinks twice in response and plops the six pack back down on the shelf. “Noted. What do you drink?”

“If I’m picking?” He nods. “I’m a slut for rosé or champagne. Any sparkling wine, really, it makes me feel fancy and you get to turn basic days into little celebrations.” You follow him as he walks down the aisle to where the selection of wine was shelved and starts looking through the options. “Hang on, you’re not gonna grill me about the beer thing?”

“You say that like your friends usually give you shit for it.”

You crossed your arms and shuffle your feet underneath you. “Well, yeah. Usually.”

“Then I would say,” he trails off for a moment, bending and squatting to see a label on a lower shelf before picking up two bottles of the same brand, “You need new friends. Or that your current ones need to learn boundaries, take your pick. How’s this look for one option? Since this is a celebration and all,” he says with a wink.

Leaning forward, you study the label on the bottle for a moment before nodding in approval. You agree to his point that since they were 15% off if you bought six or more bottles, it only made sense to buy more, and besides, “It’s not like you won’t drink them eventually when you’re on the phone with Wendy.”

Your eyebrows shot up at that. “How do you know her name?”

“I’m quiet not deaf, and you’re louder than you think you are,” he says matter-of-factly before heading to the cashier to pay for your selection. You bite your tongue then, hoping to whatever deity was watching you (and probably laughing) that he’d overheard one of the conversations that wasn’t about Wendy insisting you should bone him.

Johnny picks the music on the way back, opting for some Bleachers and Paramore now that he knew at least part of your music taste and how it aligned with his.

Your new selection of wine goes into the fridge as soon as you get home, and Johnny heads to the shed with a ladder in hand to climb on top and finish nailing down the roofing. You opt to help with this task, spotting from the ground and continuously yelling for him to ‘be careful’ and ‘you better not fall and break your neck while I’m watching’. It takes a little over an hour, and it’s late afternoon when he finishes, but when you climb the ladder yourself as he holds it steady from the ground to inspect his handiwork you have to say you’re impressed.

“You sure you never did construction work before? You’ve got shockingly good craftsmanship for a newbie.”

“My dad’s pretty self sufficient so he was always doing the handiwork around the house. Picked stuff up here and there from him growing up, but anything I didn’t know I could just look up on the internet.” You shoot him a pointed look. “What! I said your wifi was shitty not that I didn’t use it every now and again. There’s a YouTube tutorial for everything these days.”

Johnny insisted on cleaning up the last of the debris on his own while you worked on dinner— another pasta dish, orecchiette broccoli rabe, and while that was cooking you boil a pint of blackberries with water and sugar to make a flavored simple syrup. Since you were celebrating tonight, it only felt right to put in a little extra effort even to the drinks of choice. Kir Royales were typically made with a blackcurrant liquor, but it was a niche product you hadn’t found in the store, so the syrup and a slice of lemon for garnish would have to do.

While you waited for Johnny to finish up and take his shower (after the last time, you gave him plenty of space out of an abundance of caution whenever he showered), you started rummaging through the pantry cabinets and making sense of the dry ingredients you had on hand. You had time to kill, why not make a dessert with it?

You hadn’t talked about it much with Johnny, but you actually did enjoy cooking and baking. Something about spending time and energy making something and having someone consume it and tell you they liked made you feel good. You still remember the first time you made breakfast for a hungover Wendy in college and she raved about it for days, though you were pretty sure back then it was because the carbs soaked up the remaining alcohol in her system and stopped her from puking.

Dinner was finished when Johnny finally came out of the shower, this time fully clothed and his hair more dry. You explained that you’d gotten bored and made cookie dough but the oven hadn’t finished pre-heating yet so nothing was baked.

“Fuck it, cookie dough is always better than the cookies themselves,” he shrugged.

“But salmonella—”

Johnny held up a hand jokingly as he stopped your interjection and turned off the oven. “Still convinced that’s a myth parents made up to stop kids from actually enjoying childhood. Plus it’s hot as balls, chill the dough while we eat and then it’ll be even better after. Plus, you haven’t poisoned either of us yet, I think your track record is pretty good so far.” (There he went again, referring to you and him as an ‘us’.)

So you did just that, putting the cookie dough into the fridge and taking your dinner outside with the cocktails you’d made. You didn’t have any wine glasses here at the farm house— after breaking one stemmed glass during your first phone call with Wendy you’d moved the rest to the condo and replaced the drink ware with mason jars because the clean up was too annoying. Plus, you didn’t want to risk the dog stepping on stray shards of thin glass and getting them stuck in the pads of its paws. (You were still decidedly apathetic towards it, but that didn’t mean you were cruel).

So it was in the wide mouth Kerr jars that you poured your blackberry syrup and a half a bottle of champagne, after a comical exchange of Johnny insisting he wasn’t scared of the pop! that corks made coming out of pressurized bottles and the yelp he let out anyways when it happened as expected. The lemon slice garnish was more of an aesthetic touch than anything but you liked it nonetheless.When Johnny pulls out his phone for the second time that day and insists on playing music and making a dramatic toast before you could drink, you could only laugh and agree.

“To the best Boss I’ve ever had,” he said with a raised glass, “Even though you used me for cheap labor and to do all the hard shit.”

“Rude! I cook every day, look at all the chances I’ve had to poison you and how many times have I done it? Absolutely none because I am a saint and you know it.”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, the music, the low hum of crickets, the starry night sky, or the summer heat that did it, but time flowed so easily, and so did the conversation and teasing banter. Over the course of one meal you’d exchanged more words with Johnny than you had in the whole two months you’d known each other. Two hours later and you’d finished all the dinner (of course there were no leftovers, Johnny was still Johnny, but the amount of manual labor he did in a day made sense of how much he usually ate, you’d come to realize). The bowl of cookie dough was now sitting on the step of the lanai and you and Johnny were side by side on the deck, looking out over the farm and taking the occasional spoonful of dough into your mouths. He was right— the dough did taste better than the baked cookies probably would have, especially after it had chilled for a bit. With the way the stars and moon were hung in the cloudless sky, you could see the soft glow of their reflection in the water beyond the highway and the cliff leading to the beach.

“You ever go down to the shore?” He asks suddenly, and it feels out of nowhere and like he’s inside your head because how else would he have known you were just thinking about the ocean? But then you register that Andrew McMahon’s voice has just crooned something about Venice Beach and the California summer in the music that had still been playing through the speakers of Johnny’s phone.

You hummed for a moment before answering. “Not really. I should make more time for it, but I rarely ever leave the farm, as you probably noticed. I know this place is paradise for so many people, the vacation destination on a lot of bucket lists, but I think my… circumstances made me bitter towards the island, conceptually speaking anyways.” You watched the water with a bit more focus as a few waves crested, but you couldn’t see enough of the shore to see them actually crash. “I know I don’t talk about it much but, I needed a break from my work too. That’s… part of the reason I’m here, why I was waiting for my sister and Yunho to come out. It’s a much less interesting story than yours, so I won’t bore you with the details,” you wanted to reroute the subject before any questions started getting asked, but deep down you knew Johnny wasn’t going to press you for anything you weren’t ready to share. He’d figured that much out about you anyways.

“Anyways, maybe you’re on to something, Seo. Maybe I should take some time to actually relax a bit, seeing as now that I’ve tricked you into finishing the most difficult and time consuming of the summer projects Yunho had planned,” you stuck your tongue out between your teeth jokingly in an effort to mask the vulnerability you’d briefly shown.

Johnny took the hint and changed the subject. “The Killers, Bleachers, Paramore, Fall Out Boy… not saying I don’t like your taste in music, but I’m surprised it’s your picks were so astoundingly pop-punk-rock. Woulda taken you for a—”

“If you finish that sentence by saying ‘country kinda girl’ I’m locking you out tonight and taking the cookie dough with me,” you warned.

He laughed and shook his head. “No, you strike me as too high strung to enjoy country. Like it’s typically too slow for your tastes, or something like that.”

“Oh I’m obnoxious about my taste in media, if you couldn’t already tell. I’ve listened to mostly the same artists for the last ten years. In high school I was that kid that thought making it known that I ‘didn’t listen to the radio pop main stream’ was a personality trait, whatever that meant.”

“Oooh, so edgy and mysterious, did she used to cut her own bangs too?” He giggled into his mason jar, taking another sip.

“Nooo, that was only one time and I swear it was on a dare and not because of a break up!” You jokingly wailed out, throwing your head back in exaggeration. “Although I do regularly trim Wendy’s bangs for her because she can’t be trusted with sharp objects. Knives, needles, scissors, none of it, girl’s a total klutz,” you took another sip and uncorked the bottle again to refill your jar. You held the remainder up for Johnny to see, silently asking if he wanted a top off to finish the last of the second bottle you’d opened.

Johnny was a big guy— tall and muscular, you were sure it would take him a bit more than a bottle or two of shared champagne to get him tipsy. That’s why you didn’t think too much of it as he stared into the reinvigorated fizzing bubbles as he quietly said, “I’d like to meet her someday. Wendy, I mean— you talk about her so fondly, she seems like a great person. Like she’s good for you in your life.”

Why did you feel a little uneasy at the way he spoke about Wendy? He had no idea what she looked like, it was only from the stories you’d been telling that he knew anything about her. And it wasn’t even the real her, it was just her as she existed to you, so what was there to be uneasy about? You were overthinking again, so you had to come up with an answer to fill the silence you’d created— “Yeah well, Wendy’s sick of dick, she’s very bisexual and I’m pretty sure she’s head over heels in love with this Joohyun she started seeing recently, she’s just too much of a chicken shit to tell her how she feels,” you hid behind you glass and drank deeply, not minding as the floating slice of alcohol soaked lemon rested against your nose.

“Sounds familiar,” Johnny said quietly. “I… can relate, I think,” he mumbled out, and you glanced over in time to see him place his now-empty cup on the wood beside him. “Sometimes you just feel the way you do and you don’t really have a reason for why, but you can’t even put it to words to the person it matters to.”

This time when your breath caught in your throat, it wasn’t because of a mounting attack, but in anticipation of what Johnny would do next. The space between you had slowly waned as you’d been drinking, your bodies inching closer to each other without you even realizing it, almost like the way the moon pulled the tide to the shore over and over again. When your eyes traveled from where his hand was pressed into the deck flooring up to meet his hooded gaze, you don’t really know what you were expecting, but Johnny’s parted lips shining slightly (probably from that last drink of wine) was not it.

You knew this feeling. This was when you were supposed to lean in, right? That’s how this usually went. Your hand shifted closer towards his for a moment and then pulled back, and the end joint of Johnny’s fingers flexed as he pressed his fingertips into the deck.

You didn’t lean in. Your heart was hammering in your chest far too loud for you to be able to do so; instead, you look away, his eye and his lips and his face and his everything suddenly too much, and your turned your cheek to him instead.

Instead, he leaned in, and for just a brief moment the crickets stopped chirping, the distant ocean stopped moving, the music stopped playing, and your heart stopped beating as Johnny’s perfectly pouty lips pressed against your cheek, and then your temple, and then your throat. And then his head tilted down and his nose brushed against your skin delicately, leaving a trial of burning in its wake, and time didn’t start turning again until the snort of his laughter broke the silence and he fell into your shoulder in a giggle fit.

It took all of your patience and self control to make your lungs continue to function as you listened to Johnny giggle so much he stopped making sounds until he was spewing out between fits of laughter ‘The bubbles make everything funny, why is everything funny with bubbles?’

‘Why indeed’, you wondered silently, letting the clearly tipsy Johnny rest his head on your shoulder as he continued his giggle fits, stroking the palm of your hand against his back as he’d first done for you under far different circumstances, trying to not think about how much faster your heart was beating while doing so, and how if your accelerated heart rate was from his proximity to you, you didn’t mind.

How long did you stay like that, in such a familiar embrace with Johnny? Long enough, it seemed, for the playlist on his phone to come to an end and for him to start dozing off while resting against you, his light snores the thing that finally made you disturb him so you could go back inside. It was late anyways, nearing midnight you said softly and you tried to wake him gently—

A surprisingly loud boom shook the sky followed by a burst of light and color. Immediately the dog inside woke up and started barking, and Johnny bolted upright, eyes darting around in search of the source of the noise that had disturbed his snoozing.

“Fireworks,” you breathed out, more to yourself than to him. “Guess it’s midnight already.” Johnny didn’t say much, but his eyes twinkled as he watched in earnest as a few more went off before you tugged on his sleeve and insisted that he needed to make his way to bed and sleep. There were sure to be more tomorrow, and he could watch them then.

You didn’t sleep for hours that night. After helping the mildly intoxicated Johnny to his bed, you sat on the floor of your room, knees pulled into your chest and a hand laying flat against your cheek where he’d planted his trail of kisses. “He was just drunk, he’s just a flirty drunk, that didn’t mean anything,” you repeated to yourself over and over again.

But something about the way Johnny’s lips felt against the apples of your cheek and the hollow of your throat when he’d been nuzzling against you stayed with you all night long, sending a shiver down your spine and igniting a flame where your heart lived. You pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes and inhaled deeply, breath shuddering on the exhale.

Against all your hopes and intensions, Johnny Seo had slowly chipped his way through your armor and into your heart.

You had to get him out. Fast.

tbc.

—

author’s note | Me: this first part is gonna be like, I dunno, 5k? 6k? Also me: writes 19,000 words. We call this ✨processing your own trauma through writing as an outlet✨ Originally this was going to be one really long one shot and then I decided to split it up for ratings purposes because I am a thirsty whore for Youngho. The ending is rushed but honestly I was so sick of editing and overthinking this lmaooo. No I have not spent a summer living in Kona working on a coffee farm. Most of my coffee knowledge is second hand from the time my brother in law bought a coffee farm and started a roasting business because my sister dared him to by saying “do it you won’t” (an exact quote I shit you not). There’s more to this story and uh I dunno I’ll maybe post it eventually if people don’t hate this one *shrugs*

#Johnny x Reader #Johnny Seo #Johnny Seo x Reader #Johnny Seo fanfic #NCT fanfic #NCT Fluff #NCT Angst #kinda lmao i dunno leave me alone #panic attack tw #mental health issues tw #anxiety tw #idk if i'm even happy with this or if I'm gonna go back and edit that last 5k i wrote tongiht w/e #shrugs this is fine #johnny: bitter brews #swamp witch writes

[hebescus]

remember this ship ask? yeah, i wanna do them all with lawlight bcs they control my brain. but it's a happy no death note au bcs it's me. oh and this shit is long plus it's 3 am rn so my words are very messy. but enjoy.

(i skip some numbers that i answered and the ones that i can't think of btw)

pre relationship :

How did they first meet?

L's investigation hq. he was a suspect of L, still, but this time he told soichiro to bring this 18 yo boy to the hq to test him, asking light to work with all of them. he ends up not guilty ofc, but L still wants to keep him…around.

What was their first impression of each other?

ah, the good old 'what the fuck dude???' from light and the 'oooh he got a big brain' from L. it's hard to get out of canon in this one.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

L. But it's more like thoughts, rather than feelings. It's just these random thoughts that pop out in his head like 'i don't mind kissing this guy, if he asks' but not like 'i want to kiss him' yknow what i mean? idk this is just something i experience a lot lmao. it develops to feelings once light falls for him and L can see that. So in terms of ideas, it's L, but in terms of feelings, it's Light.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Oh our favorite light denial yagami. Of course he's cursing himself for having feelings like this but once L calls it out he's over. 

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Light would laugh it off, and be like "i don't like him that way you know". L would shrugs be like "well yes that's possible, i don't think i mind". 

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

boring, lonely, empty, you name it

(more under the cut)

general :

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

hmm, they both initiated the relationship? ykwim? They both notices they had feelings for each other and just...go from there. they never have like a relationship talk, they just go with the flow until at some point they starts to get comfortable to refer the other as partners. They basically can read each other's mind, after all.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Yes, sort of. A tennis game! And a coffee sesh after, just like canon. They plan this to be just "let's just relax, this case has been really exhausting, take a one day break, L" but when Light got home, sayu asked "how's the date going?!" He immediately said "it's not a date, you watch too many dramas it's rotting your brain" And sachiko gave him a smile while shaking her head at this statement and when he's back to his room he immediately calls L and was like "hey does that count as a date?" and L answers with "depends, do you want it to be?" with a smirk that light can hear.

What was their first kiss like?

it was late at night, light was helping L with the case when everybody went home. they were sharing their view about this certain criminal when light notices L staring at his lips, first he ignored it but it happens again and again to a point where their face just got real close and then...kiss, somehow. idk lmao.

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

First person who can understand each other and are equals, the only ones who can tear the other's wall down, and just practically soulmates in any form that even their sun & moon signs mirroring each other's? YES. 

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

i hc L as just a little bit taller than light, but it's not like you can see it through the hunch anyway. ofc we all know the 6 years and 4 months age gap

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Sayu likes L, Sachiko is kinda surprise Light doesn't date a typical pretty person, but it only makes her heart fonder. L doesn't mind them, he thinks they're nice, light grew up in a good place. Soichiro? Well, he might me a bit reluctant but he loosen up slowly, his son is happier than he ever was, after all.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Light, obviously. Because he's a charmer and if L takes control, the person they speak to would run immediately the first 2 minutes.

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear?

it is a universal knowledge that L does this. like, come on, count the fics, you can't, there's just so many. he loves to break that perfect wall and make light feel 🥴😳. it's entertaining. But he knows when to stop. too much of that will be embarrassing in light's part, and he respects his boy's dignity.

love :

Who said “I love you” first?

Light!! The thing is it was said over the phone. He gets more and more comfortable talking with L through calls, since every now and then L travel frok countries to countries. One time he just like "yeah, safe flight. love you, bye" he expected L to say goodnight to him as a response as usual but L was silent and he realised what he just said and realised that he fucking mean it. L seems to still be able to read his mind even thousands miles away so he replies with "i love you too, goodnight". they never missed seeing each other more than that night.

What are their primary love languages?

we had a discussion for this! but as we see in canon, they're both very acts of service with a little hint of physical touch here and there. quality time is also important. words and gift aren't really needed for them.

Who uses cheesy pick-up lines?

L. Only to annoy light. It's terrible that he almost cringed to himself, but it does bring a good laugh for light.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

PDA is a not their preference, they just love being in private more. They might hold hands sometimes, butmost times they won't. Altho they always stand or sit reaaaaally glued to each other even though there are so many space. 

Who initiates kisses?

both. they want it, they got it. but light gives light kisses (ha) more, not necessarily on the lips, usually when L was really busy working, keeping his feet on the ground.

Who’s the big and little spoon?

They don't spoon a lot, they prefer not touching at all or cufdling face to face, but when they do, Light is the little spoon because being a big spoon makes his sleeping position kinda uncomfy, he feels awkward with his legs, it's just not. thankfully L thinks cuddling light this way is very calming.

What are their favorite things to do together?

Tennis and solving cases, duh. Or sometimes they play video games fighting each other. Anything competitive and/or challenging that make their brain grow 10 times bigger. But sometimes, a comfortingly peaceful and quiet dinner with hushed words thrown here and there about random things feels like the best thing ever.

Who’s more protective?

L. For identity reasons, ofc.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Physical. They can read each other's mind, they knew it by gesture, touches, and glances. 

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

IT'S MY TIME TO SHINE. venus by sleeping at last fits them so well, that song is in the background of multiple cozy couch smooches sessions or even when they're slow dancing (please listen to this tho song it's so good). also i think they would like persephone by the tragic thrills too, L would be like "this song reminds me of you" and Light answers with "i'm persephone?" "Yeah" "i'm a fucking badass then" "yes you are". oh and first day of my life? lover of mine? pink in the night? sweet creature? the lakes? oh god i have too much answers

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

they don't do nicknames, really. although, L sometimes called light with some snarky tony stark styled nicknames when he feels particularly playful but annoyed at the same time.

Who remembers the little things?

They both do. Big brained assholes they are.

domestic life :

If they get married, who proposes?

It's not really a proposal, they didn't  even remember who said it first. But one sleepy night after a hard case, someone said "hey you wanna get married" and the other was like "sure, why not" "really?" "yeah, i think i'm ready, you?" "me too" "great" and then they go to sleep. at breakfast the next morning L called watari from across the room and said "wammy i need you to prepare [enter marriage stuff here], and light, you must call your family after this". poor old watari chokes on his tea.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

The wedding is in a secluded little place near the wammy's house, L used to go there a lot as a kid. With just light's parents, sayu, and watari. Well, not until Light caught Mello, Matt, Near, and Linda peeping from the bushes

Do they have any pets?

A chunky cat the wammy's kids feed daily but never try to keep them in, because no animals are allowed inside the orphanage. L saw it and was like "light let's bring this bitch home" she is, indeed a little bitch, but light and L loves her dearly. her fur has light brown and black colors, like both of their hairs, so she becomes their daughter, L gave him a weird ass name but i can't think about it rn.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

Light because he's the one who's actually bothers to. They ofc annoyed L but he cpuldnt care less to actually get rid of them.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

L. He rarely sleeps and once he did, he wakes up very fucking late and will pull light back to the bed if he's woken up by the empty space beside him.

Who’s the better cook?

Light. L is a spoiled brat. But Light can't bale for shit, that's Watari's job. Light grow up learning and helping his mom making meals for the family. He's not the best, but it's good enough to make L craves them in between his sweets.

Who likes to dance?

None of them. But they would slow dance on rare, sentimental occasions. And it's like so fucking romantic bcs all the lights are off except for a candle or a table lamp or a cabinet lamp whatever that has yellow-y dim light. And they don't speak, they just casually move against each other, but heart ready to combust like i do when i the mental image came into my head.

#lawlight #death note #very fucking self indulgent whoa #brainrot hours #anyway i love them so much #scenarios and shits

[imagine-docx]

the cute barista and his crisis.

Summary: You spent the night at home, while your roommates were out partying. Suddenly, a random number called you ranting to you about how much he hates life. [college!barista!]

Warnings: hella sexual jokes and references, swearing, and hating post-secondary, as per usual.

A/N:  hope you guys are still doing well and i hope you guys are staying safe! 💛 - Amanda

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday consisted of either early morning classes, midday classes, and the occasional class that ran past 8 pm. Fridays were the only day you can claim as yours, but of course, you had to work.

It was Thursday and the cool New York air was engulfing you and your roommates as the three of you made your way to the usual coffee shop that was a little bit off campus. “Gonna ogle the cute barista again?” Wanda nudged.

“Ah yes, young love,” Nat snickered. 

“Shut up,” you felt the heat rise up to your cheeks, “I think he’s cute, but he probably has so many girls fawning over him.”

“Remember, we are the one cute girls in the coffee shop,” Nat said, opening the door, “After you, m’lady.”

That resulted in you and Wanda letting out a laugh, “Okay incel,” Wanda responded. The three of you glanced up at the menu, “I’m feeling tea today, but what kind?” Wanda said.

“After that comment, poison flavoured,” Nat muttered.

You let out a laugh, “You’re quite spicy today, go for a spiced tea.”

Wanda stuck her tongue out at Nat, “That’s why she’s my favourite roommate,” Glancing back at the menu, “Is Russian spiced tea good?” 

“I don’t know, ask your favourite roommate,” Nat said.

“Bitch.” 

The cute blond barista came up to the register, “You ready? Or do you need another minute?”

You felt Nat pinch your left ass cheek, and you nudge your elbow into her ribcage, “Yeah. Can I get a caramel iced coffee?” 

“Of course, what else?” He asked.

“Can I get a cinnamon dolce latte?” Nat spoke keeping her hand near your ass cheeks.

“Of course, and for you?” He indirectly asked Wanda.

“Russian spiced tea please.” She spoke.

“That’s $17.60, here or to go?” He asked.

“Here,” Wanda said, while digging in her backpack for her wallet, “Credit please?”

“Aww, we love it when our sugar daddy treats us,” You snickered, resulting in a laugh from Nat and the barista.

“It’s only because she bought dinner and you bought dessert last night,” she grumbled.

“Go take a seat, and I’ll bring the drinks over when they’re done.” He spoke, which resulted in a hums of thank you from the three of you and you guys walked over to the usual booth you guys inhabited when you were here.

“Is there a reason that my poor ass cheek got abused?” You asked.

“He was checking you out,” Nat bluntly stated.

“No he wasn’t, he was doing his job.” You stated. 

“And I am a natural redhead,” she sarcastically said.

“Wait, it's dye?” Wanda practically cried out.

The three of you laughed, and went over your plans for the next weekend. Nat had work and was doing rehearsal for the Russian dance competition that was happening in a few weeks. Wanda had to work and was also seeing her brother Pietro on Sunday. You on the other hand had to work, and had to have a comparative essay done by Monday. 

“You’re so lucky you’re done your midterms,” Wanda said, “I’m still struggling trying to wrap my head around platyhelminths.”

“But see, you watched me and laughed at me for only surviving off of coffee and fruit snacks for three weeks straight. Now I am prospering and living my life and you have a midterm on Monday,” you said.

“You looked like death around the apartment,” Nat laughed, and the cute barista brought over your drinks.

“Russian spiced tea, cinnamon dolce latte, and caramel iced coffee,” he said, passing around the drinks, “And a tiramisu square.”

“Uh, we didn’t order this?” Nat asked. 

“The table over there sent it,” he responded, pointing his head over to where a group of boys were sitting.

“Thank you,” the three of you hummed and there went the barista.

“You know,” Nat leaned into you, “He has a nice ass.”

“Nat,” You hissed.

“America is proud of that ass,” Wanda snickered.

Suddenly the group of boys that sent the dessert got louder, trying to get your attention. You rolled your eyes, “God, I hate men.”

“Except for the pretty blond one with a nice ass,” Nat said, digging into the tiramisu. 

“I second that,” Wanda said, taking a bite of the piece on her spoon.

Suddenly the frat boy cult got even louder, Nat rolled her eyes, and moved your hair from the base of your neck, “What are you-” Then came a long lick from the base of your neck to your jawline. Suddenly the frat boy cult shut up, “Jesus Christ, warn a girl.”

“Why are you acting all shy now? You weren’t this shy last weekend when I was doing body shots off of you at the back of the apartment,” Nat said, nonchalantly.

“You may have shut up the frat boy cult, but the cute barista is so red you can confuse him for a bottle of ketchup.” Wanda stated.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

Two weeks have passed, and you would go into the coffee shop whenever you had over an hour worth of a gap, or before work. Today is one of those days. It was Friday, and you were due to start your shift in forty-five minutes. 

Walking into the shop, there was the cute barista working the front. You didn’t catch the way his eyes practically lit up upon seeing you. “Just you today?” He asked.

“Yes sir,” you said, giving him a smile.

“Caramel iced coffee?” He asked.

“Of course,” you said, digging in your bag for your wallet. 

“Don’t worry, it's on the house.” He said, “Here or to go?”

“To go, please.”

“You got it doll,” and with that you stood off to the side and waited for him to make your drink. 

“Caramel iced coffee,” he called out.

“Thank you, have a good day,” you called out before making your way to your shift.

“You know you look like a lovesick puppy,” Bucky said to Steve.

“That obvious?” Steve asked. 

“Yeah. Also, remember, Happy is gonna take that coffee out of your paycheque,” Bucky said patting Steve’s back.

“If it’s for her, Happy can have my entire paycheque.” Steve responded, going to clean up.

“Ugh, teenagers and their hormones,” Bucky spoke.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

You, Wanda, and Nat sat on your shared living room floor eating the steamed dumplings and sushi that you ordered for dinner. “So you saw the cute barista boy today,” Wanda said, “Soy sauce please.”

Nat handed her the sauce before taking a california roll for herself, “His ass still thick?”

You nearly choked on the dumpling you were eating, “Fucking Christ, Nat.”

“You can’t miss that ass!” Nat tried justifying, “He walks in, and his ass walks in five minutes later.”

Wanda choked on her iced tea, “He wore this white shirt that was way too tight for him, God that left nothing to the imagination,” you said recalling the way his muscles moved when making your coffee.

“Someone’s having a wet dream tonight,” Wanda said.

You threw a soy sauce packet at her head, “No! I don’t even know his name.”

“See that’s a problem, she can’t moan his name if she doesn’t know his name.” Nat laughed.

You threw a soy sauce packet at her head, “The both of you need to get laid.”

“So do you sweetheart, and by the big muscular blond with the thick ass who works at The Petite Bean.” Wanda said, nearly dodging another soy sauce packet.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

The next Friday night you were at home by yourself eating a sandwich from the bodega that was next to your building. Wanda and Nat went to this party, you wanted to go, but after your shift, you were exhausted and just decided to call it a night. 

Taking the last bite of your turkey sandwich, you got up and threw everything out, and decided to go and take a long hot shower. You stood at the tv debating whether or not you should turn off the documentary on whales, but you decided not to as it helps serve as background noise.

You showered and threw on a massive NYU hoodie and some pyjama shorts. Getting out of the shower, you headed back to the kitchen, dug around in the cabinets for a snack of a sort, and headed back to your position on the couch. 

You were scrolling through your Instagram, when a random number called you. You answered because you never know it could be Nat or Wanda in trouble. “Hello?”

You heard a shaky breath from the other side, “Oh sorry, I have the wrong number.”

“Hey, before you hang up, are you okay?” You asked.

“Not really-”

You cut him off, “Did you want to talk about it? I have the time.”

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna bother you,” the man from the other side of the line said.

“Of course, shoot,” you said.

“Midterms got the worst of me. I’m practically failing chemistry, why did I take chem? Like I’m an art major, the fuck am I doing in science? Then the girl I dated for a little keeps coming by the place I work at with the man she cheated on me with, and that shit still stings. Then, there’s this cute girl who keeps coming by the place I work, and I can’t seem to talk to her. She’s like this ball of sunshine, and I don’t think I can talk to her. Do you have anything fucked up happening in your life? Or is the lord hating on me?” 

You laughed, “Unfortunately, no. With the chem thing, don’t be so hard on yourself. Courses get to the best of us, we are so reliant on a GPA, when it doesn’t even guarantee a job after practically killing ourselves for this degree. Failing one course isn’t so bad, just don’t fail more than three, that might result in academic probation. Honestly, if she cheated on you, fuck her. She doesn’t deserve any of your attention, if she was the one who gave you up. And with the other girl, just slowly ease her into it, ask her how her day has been, ask her about the weather, if she’s holding a book or something, try to bond with her about that.”

“You sound like a psych major,” he joked.

“Psych minor,” you corrected, “Socio major. From what I know you can’t be a science major. So what do you major in?” 

“Art history, and minor in regular history.”

“Oh, we got a huge history fan don’t we?” You joked.

“Biggest nerd in Brooklyn.”

That same night the two of you stayed talking until 4:30 am, before he heard you yawning and telling you to get some sleep. You both bidded your goodnights and the moment your head hit the pillow, you knocked out.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

The following morning, or afternoon at that point. You stumbled into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee, and heard Wanda and Nat groaning about how they need Advil. You opened the door to Nat’s room and saw the two of them practically cuddling. You threw two bottles of water, and the bottle of Advil at them before heading to the washroom to brush your teeth. 

Once you were done, you sat on the counter of the kitchen drinking your coffee, you heard stumbling from the hallway. Suddenly, a disheveled Nat appeared, she was sporting bedhead, smeared makeup, a black lace bra and some random sleeping shorts that looked like they belonged to Wanda. “Good morning sweetheart,” you cooed.

She flipped you off before making herself a cup of coffee, “Never drinking again.”

“Nat,” Wanda whined, “Please I need a cuddle buddy.”

“You have another roommate,” Nat reminded her.

Wanda nudged your legs open and curled up into your frame, “My favourite.”

You laughed while patting her head, “What happened?”

“So much booze, free booze.” Nat stated.

Free booze to university kids was like feeding candy to a toddler. “Alright cuddlebug. I have errands to do, I gotta go shower.” You said trying to push away Wanda.

“No, please don’t.” Wanda latching onto you harder.

“She’s gonna make her way down to Manhattan to see the cute barista,” Nat joked.

“Harhar, I’m going to the bank and I need to mail out this return. The green dress was too big, had to order a size down.” You said, finishing off your coffee, finally pushing off Wanda, “Also why the fuck would I go to Manhattan to see the barista.”

“Dick makes you do crazy things baby girl.” Nat said.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

While you were getting dressed your mind ran onto the man who called you last night and ranted to you about his life. You decided to call him back and check up on him. After three rings he picked up, “Hello?”

“Hey, you called me last night and we talked for an hour and a half about some super deep stuff, you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks for checking up on me.” He spoke.

“Not a problem, if you ever need to rant, you can always text me.” You said shoving your wallet into your bag.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna burden.” He asked.

“If you need a friend, I am here for you.” You said.

You two exchanged names, before both of you had to go. And that started your texting relationship with a man named Steve Rogers.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

You came back home from your errands trip and brought bagels for the two hungover disasters you call your roommates. You walked back in and saw Wanda and Nat under the pink fur blanket watching the whale documentary you were watching last night. “My baby is back,” Wanda said excitedly.

“I bring bagels, because bagels make us happy when we are hungover.” You said placing the bag on the table, “Two rainbow bagels with strawberry cream cheese. Two poppy seed bagels with tuna salad on both.” You said handing each of them their own bagels. 

You grabbed your own two before plopping next to them, “If barista boy doesn’t domesticate you, I will.” Nat said.

You laughed before you felt your phone buzz in your pocket, you got a message from Steve asking about the bagel place you usually get your stuff from. “Who’s Steve?” Wanda asked.

“New mans?” Nat exclaimed.

“You’re replacing barista boy before you could even dick him down?” Wanda cried out.

“No, Jesus. I haven’t even met Steve-” Wrong phrasing you used there.

“You’re back on tinder?” Wanda asked, “I thought we were doing it together.”

“No, he accidentally called me last night and we talked for an hour.” You said nonchalantly taking a bite out of your bagel.

“A threesome with barista boy and Steve? Wow someone’s getting some,” Nat said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Jesus Christ Nat.”

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

As per usual, you made your way into the cafe getting coffee before your shift. Noticing the barista, you again missed the gleam in his eyes when he saw you. He mustered up the courage, “Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good, how are you?”

“I’m doing good,” You smiled.

Steve felt his knees weaken at your smile, “The usual?”

“The usual,” you said, paying and going to message the roommate group chat about the tight light blue shirt barista boy was wearing today.

“Alright, here you go.” He said sliding you the coffee and a straw.

“Thank you, have a good day,” you said before slipping out of the shop and heading to work.

“So you took the girls advice and asked her about her day, look at you making big moves.” Bucky nudged Steve.

“One step at a time Buck,” he said, going to clean up his station.

“Hey, you better have not given her another free coffee,” Bucky called out.

┍━━━━━♥♠♣♦━━━━━┑

After several weeks of messaging Steve, you learned he also attended NYU and both of you worked around your schedules, trying to meet up. The two of you finally decided to meet on campus. You picked a morning where you, Nat and Wanda had a two hour gap just in case something happened and he was in fact a 50 year old pervert with a thing for third year students.

You: hey i’m in the student centre

Steve: Hey, I’m sitting, I’m wearing a black jacket and a white t-shirt

You looked up and almost screamed, as if the gods were playing a joke on you. It was your cute barista boy. Okay, being rational, he could happen to be here at the same time, wearing the same out- nope, no way. “Steve?” You asked, approaching the table.

Looking up from his phone, he was shocked as well, “H-hi,” he stuttered out.

“Can I sit?” You asked.

“Of course.”

“So I guess you were helping me, try and talk to you,” he finally spoke out.

“Wait, what?” You asked, confused.

“The girl I was messaging you about, was you,” he sheepishly said.

You didn’t know how to respond, “Really?”

“Yeah, if you don’t feel the same that’s okay.” Steve said looking down at his fingers.

You took his hand in yours, “No, I like you too.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, Nat keeps trying to get me to ask you out. But I kept talking myself out of it.” You said.

“How about I treat you to the finest thing this campus has to offer and we can talk about how we both are idiots,” he offered.

“It better be the Wendy’s,” you joked.

“Only the finest for the finest,” he winked at you, resulting in the blush staining your cheeks. He stood up and put his hand out, upon standing up you took his hand and was about to exit the student centre. 

You heard Nat speak loudly to Wanda, “She’s getting dick, I’m so proud of her.” You wanted the ground to create a blackhole and swallow you whole. 

Until you heard another voice, “BuckBuck! Our baby Steve is all grown up and getting pussy.”

You looked to see Steve blushing, turning back and flipping him off, “Fuck off Sam.”

Of course, both of your roommates were the worst.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #marvel #Marvel Comics #marvel cinematic universe #MARVEL FANDOM #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic x reader #steve rogers x y/n #captain america #captain america x reader #college!steve #college!steve rogers #college!au #college fanfic captain america #marvel au #marvel x reader au

[hazbinextgeneration]

Into The Casino Ch9

The next few days were what she could only describe as complete and utter suspicion. Or more accurate the war of the paper and closets. Lou wasn't kidding when he said there was not one not two but FOUR other closets full of boxes and tots and cabinets full of papers and random date books galore. Cyber had taken Disease up on a favor he owed her and had him help her carry all of the stuff into one big older office Lou has given permission for her to use for the whole thing. The amount of the stacks made her stomach drop but the smile and red eyes assuring her he just couldn't wait to see what great job she would do was enough to get her motivated in fear of any consequences that might've been thrown her way. Thank goodness by what ever miracle she talked him into giving her giant filing cabinets to hold all these massive piles of papers and books. It took her minutes of careful reading of each one before she could even decide which small pile ever growing it would go in. Every couple hours or so Cyber or Disease would bring her some food, which was very much appreciated... But they found the hard way a stressed and overworking woman was not one they'd want to mess with. When Disease accidentally knocked over two piles accidentally mixing them together after spending two whole days rummaging around to get them perfect.

...The angry shout from the frazzled lady and the few white sparks that emanated from her horn was enough for the bumbling serpent to hightail it out of there. She thought Lou was going to send her to an painful second grave when he found out, but to her surprise he was actually rather calm about this whole thing. Even going as far as to lightly scold Disease for ruining her day's work, but she couldn't help but notice the almost excited tone behind all that. And when the next day came Cyber rolled around with her lunch as usually but with the resident witch no less. Midnight if she remembered right. The small fox pulled out a tape measure from no where and forced her to hold still as she measured the length of her horn, and shined a light into her eyes. Before writing something down on a piece of paper she had with her and left without another word. ...When asked Cyber casually shrugged it off. "Eh. Lou's just having her check up on you. No big deal." Well, that wasn't suspicious at all. But she was too tired with all this pile up to even think about what was going on, and so she pushed on with whatever she was doing. She wasn't exactly sure how much time had passed with her emptying boxes, and tots. Putting old dates books on a bookshelf provided to her and stuff the newly alphabetized papers into different drawers. But she noticed Cyber had kept taking certain documents, mostly ones with random and different names written at the bottom of them all. She claimed they were certain deals with clients and business partners Lou had been working for and wouldn't want anything happen to them in fear of loosing good deals. She could kinda understand that, but the fact that they seemed to be making a majority of the whole papers was kinda questionable. Even if he was a demon. Maybe a day or two after that, she was finally done. The benefits of already being dead was that she didn't need a lot of food or sleep, but my gosh did she feel like she could hibernate for a whole year by this point. By now she had long forgotten how long she had been up or when she finished, but she remembered vaguely Cyber patting her on the back and telling her to take a load off. "Lou should swing by to check out everything later. Until then I guess you get a free few hours, Newbie." She didn't need to be told twice. She stumbled to her room and immediately plopped herself into that sweet, sweet bed. Almost instantly falling asleep once she got comfortable. Too bad she wasn't aware of the scheme that was currently being hatched right under her nose almost the whole time. Now. Lou had always prided himself on being a man of ideals. A man of opportunities. When he saw something good he would always find ways to get it, and good luck was always a gamble that seemed to favor him. Sure he had a couple bad deals and things that could've gone better, but a newer and better one always seemed to throw itself at his feet, begging for him to reach out to them and take them in his sweet, sweet grasp! And it wasn't just opportunites he had luck in. Brains, judge of character, not bad looking if he should say so himself~, and of course his many, many wonderful riches. And it just seemed to be getting better and better and BETTER. He was intoxicated on the idea of the power, only brought down by his rational thinking and on occasions Cyber. Already this naïve little horsefly had proven herself useful in more than one way, for one he finally had someone who could take care of all that pesky paper problems and one who could be molded into a weapon. AH! Speaking of the pony- Cyber had kindly been keeping him updated on the whole situation and now seeing the amount of the work put into one simple task...He could barely contain his excitement over how much work she could put into better use, if pushed in the right direction of course. "Well- Fuzzy, did a decent job. Eh, Boss?" Cyber was currently flipping through one of the drawers randomly and when she didn't receive an answer she turned her head over her shoulder to stare at the taller demon. Lou seemed to be staring off into space, one hand behind his back and the other covering a part of his face, his red eyes narrowed in thought. Uh oh. She knew that look all too well. Lou. Was calculating something. He always saw his choices as a gamble. Through the dice right and you get the bigger prize. She just wondered what it was this time. "Uh, Boss? Whatcha thinking about now?" Instead of answering her question he asked a question of his own. Walking towards the bookshelf and glazing his eyes over all the books before taking one out and looking at the cover. ".....Cyber. You observed her. How smart would you say she is? On the IQ level." She stared at him but her brain quickly processed the question asked thanks to what her name referred to and she shrugged. "About average. A little over Disease if I say so." He hummed and put the book back only to randomly pick another. "And IF I were to try a contract?" He turned his head to her. "How would you say she would most likely react?" She stood there silently. Confused at the question but also quickly got the answer for it. "Well...The way she moves and the way she acts, plus with what we know...I don't think she'd really be up to it." She gave him a matter of fact look. "She's not up to date with the modern era just yet, but she's pretty careful about most things surrounding her. I think being roped into a soul binding deal would be the last thing she'd want to do. She'd just see it as another form of prison." His eyes slightly narrowed and looked back to the book. Now this was something different she had seen. He was thinking of a back up plan to the gamble. Sometimes he'd use the back up plan instead of the first plan but what the winner don't know the gambler understands. And he understood the game better than anyone she knew, alive or dead. "What would you say would be her biggest weak points?" "Well, her limited knowledge on modern things and her emotions I would say." ....His lips slowly curled up in a smile. "How long has it been since I last had interest in someone?" Her head tilted, before slowly a look of realization came over her. "About ten years ago. Boss...Are you going to do what I think you're going to do?" His smile widened. "There's more than one way to be legally bound now isn't there?~ Go see to it she has a good view of me before I do anything. I have something I need to take care of." "Are you sure you want to take this route?" She thought of the possibilities in her head. "This seems about five percent more likely to succeed but with what really landed her here in the first place, I don't think she'd be ready to hop back into the saddle so to speak." A chuckle and those red eyes flashed at her. "Five more points is all I need to make it to the top ranks! Trust me. The prize winnings would be to die for!~" *********************************************************************************** It was almost mid noon when she felt something shaking her awake and out of instinct she jumped up and blinked her blurry vision up at the person above her. Light electric blue hair came into view and the face of a metal skinned appeared before her. She stared up at Cyber for a few seconds before her voice came out. "Hey, Newbie. Brought you something curtesy of the boss. I think you'd like it." Something sweet smelling hit her and she tiredly blinked down to the plate she just now noticed Cyber was holding out to her. She blinked and stared at the small round sweet smelling thing on the plate with confusion. "....W-What is it?" "It's called a doughnut. It's kinda like a car tire shaped cake without all the heavy icing. Boss said you probably never had one before and you should have one before Disease ate them all." She smiled and continued to stay on plan. " He acts like a big bad wolf, but if you get to know him, you can find out he can be pretty generous." The fuzzy bed headed pony stared at her, before slowly sitting up and staring at the offering still placed in front of her. ...Slowly taking it from Cyber and giving it a couple more tired but weary blinks. Her nose twitched a couple times still filled with the unfamiliar sweet smell. Cyber stared patiently as Fuzzy took her time picking it up and taking a small nibble off the top of it. Her eyes slightly widened and Cyber smiled when she began eating this new sweet food with vigor. Guess she liked it huh? She must've because it was soon gone and she turned to her with a thankful smile. "T-Thank you." "Hey. Don't thank me. Thank the boss. And speaking of which-" He nodded her heads towards the door. "He's been wanting to see for for a few hours, but he decided to give you a few extra hours sleeping. Wasn't that nice of him?" ....She blinked those purple eyes. "W-Why? D-Did I do something wrong?" "What? Are you kidding me?" She gave a playful smile that came naturally to be honest. She didn't mind help Lou with playing these games. "He and I both thought you did a decent job. Surprised your brain didn't turn to mush." She gave a nod towards the door and turned to walk away. "He's waiting for ya in the office down the hall. Make sure you wear something nice ok?" She rose a brow but if her boss wanted to see her then she had better get up and see exactly what he wanted to talk about. She just hoped it wasn't more paperwork. With a sigh she tossed the blankets off and forced her tired bum up and out of the bed. Ten minutes later she was all prim and proper and heading to where she hoped was where he was waiting for her. When she did come to what she hoped was the door, she took a deep breath to calm herself, reached up and just laid her hands on the door once- It swung open suddenly, and she gave a startled squeak taking a few steps back from it. On the other side was the taller slender form of the plant demon. He smiled down at the frazzled unicorn and chuckled. Before giving a slight bow. "Oh, so sorry. If I would've known that would've happened, I wouldn't have spooked you." He straightened back up and stood aside. "Please. Come in." She stood there for a moment, but slowly and wearily began walking into the room he was holding open. Folding her ears back when she felt those red eyes following her, and when the door closed behind her she looked back to him. He was wearing that same smile of his but it seemed more ...what was the best way to describe it? Studious. She watched silently as he walked past her and gestured to the seat in front of the small desk. She slowly sat down into the seat offered and watched as he walked around and sat down right in front of her. Clasping his hands and giving her that smile. "Now. You are probably wondering why I wanted to speak to you yes?" "...I-..assumed I did something wrong with the work I did." "No, no. Of course not," he assured her in a sweet tone, "The work you displayed was splendid! Exactly what a top notch secretary of mine needs! But I wanted to speak to you about a more....Important topic other than work." He hesitated but eventually asked, "W-What do you mean, Sir?" He was hoping she would say that. So he took a breath and gave her the sweetest most charming smile he could muster. "Miss Amalfia, do you remember how long you've been working for me?" She tilted her head curiously, wracking her brain for the answer. "I-I think almost three months." "And in those three months I couldn't help but notice how marvelous having you around has become.~" She opened her mouth to say thank you but he beat her to it. "If I may say so myself you are quite the rarity down here and someone who could complete many-.."His eyes slightly narrowed. "-many things in my afterlife I have planned and just couldn't ever hope to achieve without you, my dear.~" Her eyes followed him as he adruptly stood from the desk. "...Y-You want to give me a promotion?" He laughed genuinely. "Something along those lines. But no. What I want is far more better than more benefitial to you. No. What Im asking from you, is your unwavering loyalty and affection for me." There was a small silence, as her wide eyes and shocked brain wheeled around in hyper speed as his words rammed around her skull over and over. Processing what he had spewed out at her and he took his in shock chance to walk around the table and stop right next to her. When he shifted his movement she finally snapped her head up and looked at him like he was absolutely crazy. "W-WHAT?!" "You know. Partners. Husband and wife. Joined in unholy matrimony. Whatever term you prefer to use. Shh." Her held a red talon to her mouth before her terrified face even got the chance to speak. "Please. Let me finish. You see- Ever since I laid eyes upon you, I couldn't help but find your presence interesting.~ And I do have an eye for stunning people if I do say so myself. Now before you give a yes or no to my question- " The talon was taken away and he leaned down to her form squished against the chair. "Think about the benefits.~ A roof over your head. Food you wouldn't even imagine on your plate." His hand grabbed the back of the chair and swung her around with a startled squeak to face him. "And of course all the luxories you could ask for....Within reason of course. And of course you'll have me." His grin widened and he reached a hand out to run the length of her left cheek. "I think you'll find that I can be a very generous lover.~ And Im not the worse looking man down here.~" She flinched away from his touch and shrinked down further in the chair. She could feel the walls closing in and him standing right in front of her with those red eyes staring down at her like a spider to a fly...Similar to...She turned her head and closed her eyes to stop staring at the red eyes. "....N-n-no. P-Please." OH! He had her in a corner, now this could go two ways. He could use more force and scare her into it. Or he could play the safe route, which is much more appealing in the long run. So he backed off and straightened back up. Putting on a mock sad face. "Oh my. Perhaps I was too forward in telling you my feelings. Please forgive a foolish man like me." She opened her eyes but didn't look at him. "It wasn't my intention of making you feel so uncomfortable. But I can promise you protection if you want it." ".....yes?" His smile returned. "As my employee you get protection within my establishment as it is, but as my partner. You would get gaurenteed twenty four hour protection all year round.~'' "....T-This isn't h-h-how it's done." "Beg pardon?" She sucked in a shaky breath and swallowed before daring to look up at him. "...T-That isn't how c-c-courting works. Y-You have to give it time." "...Oh. Oh of course! How silly of me to forget one of the most important customs of our times." He had to remember how things were done back at their time. A small set back, but one that could be turned around to his advantage as well. Blow the dice for good luck. And roll- "Please, allow me to start courting you then. Starting with this." With a flip of his hand a small black box appeared in his hand and she looked down to it wearily with confusion before looking back up to him. "...W-What is it?" "A gift. A courting gift to be precise." His thumb flipped open the lid and reveled the small round treasure it held. A small silver band ring with an even smaller rose branded on the front. "Take this as a show of my interest and a show of what I may be able to provide. Of course I don't expect any single thing in return except your blessing to court such a beautiful lady.~" She didn't say anything, but she stared blankly at the little box that was offered, he nudge his hand forward a little....And she slowly took the box from him silently. Not saying a word she slowly looked up at him,...and he gave an almost too sincere smile to it all. What was she supposed to say? Yes? No? Thank you? Which is why she hung her head and sighed. "....Ok. B-But please. Take it slow." "I wouldn't want it any other way. May I escort you to lunch my dear?" He offered his hand out to her with a smile. "Im sure you'll absolutely adore what the cooks threw together. It's to die for.~...Figurtively speaking of course." She still just stood there with a semi confused face ....before reaching out and- And having Lou grab her hand almost instantly and pulled her to her hooves, luckily she didn't drop the small box as he placed her onto his arm and he gave her that same widened smile as he began to lead her away to the door. "Now- Tell me, what exact tastes do you have in wine? Perhaps a fruity cocktail would be more suited for your stomach?" "...W-What's a cocktail?" His laughter echoed throughout the room. ******************************************************************************************* "Well? What's your brilliant analysis, Midnight?" The small witch scowled and looked over her giant book to give it to him. Lou had immediately rushed in as soom as all was set and down and suddenly thought she would know all the answers of the universe right now. Which she didn't! Much less know a lot about the subject as it was you know. But she rolled her eyes and took a break from cooking up the poison she was working on to entertain the smug weed. "Well! If you simply just must know!," she said in a sweet sarcastic tone. "I really haven't found anything really useful beyond what my books already said." Her natural voice came back. "Do I need to give you a run down of everything I already told you?" "Yes, actually that would quite helpful." He smirked. She groaned but rolled her eyes. Leave it to him to be the smarta$$ that would do these things just to annoy people. "Ok. Basically barely anything was jack sqwat known about them!" To make a point she turned behind her and pulled a book out, whirling back around and waving it at him. " You see this? It has endless information on about every creature you could possibly think of. And all it has on magical pretty unicorns is legends and fairytales." To prove her point she opened it and flipped to somewhere in the middle. " Habitates? Unknown. Vaires prefers lucious forest. Lifespan? Unknown. Likes innocent things like children and young maidens. Pure magic. Horns and other parts were used to be made into powerful potions to combat evils. Oh! And look! A whole slew of the recipes and fairytales with princesses!" She flipped a whole bunch of instructions and a couple of pictures before she closed it and stared at him. "Face it. Unless you want me to somehow use her meat to create a hellfire resistant potion, or a lotion to cure diseases, then there's nothing more I can do about anything." A serpent poked his head around the corner. "Someone say my name?" She groaned again. "No. Go back to sleep." "I still can't believe she actually agreed to any of your speels," Cyber rose a brow at the exchange from the wall she was leaning on. She knew it would've been very unlikely for either of his plans to work, but she guessed she shouldn't be too surprised. This was Lou they were talking about. His plans usually worked or partially worked liked now. But he turned to her with a giant smile. "Patience, Cyber. The turtle beat the hare because of it. As does the spider with the fly.~ After all. When one gets a knew toy, you have to break it in gently.~"

All characters except Amalfia belongs to @palettepainter

[erintoknow]

leave no room for anything

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

You need cover, you need an alibi, and you need a place to plan and work out your next criminal action. What could go wrong from combining all that? [Survival]

[Read on AO3]

Another day, another spike of adrenaline courses through you as you dive feet first through a stack of boxes, sending crates of delicate electronic equipment everywhere. You can hear alarms sound around you as the factory goes into full alert, the clanging of barring gates. You grin under the mirror sheen of your helmet. That suits you fine, keep the small fry penned up and out of the way? You’re too kind.

The wall in front of you collapses into dust thanks to the nanovores and you tear through the office, grabbing at papers at random. What you take doesn’t actually matter at this point, compromising their records is the goal here.

Damage done, you refer to your map, dissolve another wall and follow your thread out, back to the main entrance.

The woman standing in your way gives you pause. You’d been psyching yourself up for a rematch against Chen, but no, its Lady Argent, hands at her sides and poised to rush you. A half-circle of rent-a-cop security goons behind her block you in. “A factory, Puppetmaster? What, they stop inviting you out to parties?” She smirks and hunches down, fingers lengthening into sharpened claws.

Your face twitches under your helmet. “Don’t read the papers, Argent? It’s Ghost.” You hiss. Your voice, filtered through your helmet has a hollow, flat sound. You take a quick count of Lady Argent’s back-up, who’s most pliable to tying up the rest. None of the officers seem to trust Argent. Good. That makes this easier.

The woman of steel looks unimpressed. “Can’t say I care what you call yourself.”

That does it.

One of the rent-a-cop’s guns goes off ‘prematurely’, firing wide to your left, the rest follow in blind panic as you dive to the side. Argent is too focused on you, but with the Rat-King’s help you’re able to pull the rest of the goof troop into your song, pulling their attention in random directions. One of the shots dings Argent in her shoulder, bouncing off to through ground and to her credit she doesn’t look for the culprit, making straight for you.

You run your hand along the ground as you move, leaving a split in the asphalt as the Nanovores chew through material. Lady Argent tries to cut you off so you encourage two of the goons to stumble into her way as you continue your circle around them. You can’t afford to move slow enough for a deep groove, but if this works as planned, all you need is to prime the cut.

If it works.

Argent huffs, shoving one of the men the side, only for another to conveniently take position between the two of you. “Get out of the way!” It doesn’t slow her down for long, but it’s enough for you to finish the circle. Under your helmet you grin, heart pounding.

All that’s left is the magic word. You give the Rat-King the command to pull the strings and yank everyone back in.

You dash forward and slide down, just under the swipe of her claws. She turns to stab down at you as you come to halt. You roll out of the way and kick her arm aside on your way back up.

You check to make sure everyone’s inside the circle you’ve carved through the asphalt. “Heads up.” is all the warning you give before an explosion rocks the ground under everyone’s feet. A furious Argent diving towards you finds only empty space underneath her, and you leap back as the asphalt caves in.

When the dust clears you risk taking a quick check of everyone’s mental state; a lot of fear and alarm, some pain, but the headcount is still the same. You think.

Hopefully.

You shake your head. Focus. Don’t get distracted. Stay in control. You watch Argent and the rest pick themselves up, clear rubble off their buddies. You have to harden your heart against it, remember who they are, what they represent. “Next time,” you call down, “remember my fucking name!”

Admittedly, Argent makes it easier. She’s staring up at you, a single silver middle finger outstretched.

You don’t like the way she’s eyeing one of the support columns. Can she climb her way out? You don’t intend to stick around and see, it’s time to make yourself scarce.

–––

Every super villain needs a secret lair. A base of operations. Somewhere you can plan your next move, keep mission critical materials. If Ariadne is going to be stuck playing retired civilian, it’s even more important to keep her as separated as you can from Ghost’s activities.

Eventually the day will come when you have to cast off that identity completely, but two years isn’t long enough to make you eager to resume a life of being actively on the run from a government agency. You need to gather more influence – and protection – if you’re going to ever unmask without it being an immediate disaster.

To that end… Ariadne needs a cover. She needs a job, co-workers, hobbies. A new wardrobe. You need Ortega to take a breather and ease off on trying worm her way in and fix every little aspect of your life.

So you’ll combine the two.

Technically a ‘Melissa Simone’ owns the computer repair shop you’re standing in front of. Ms. Simone also interviewed and hired yourself and the middle-aged lady with greying hair now manning the front counter.

You put a hand on the front door, hesitating. You keep putting this off but… guess you better ‘officially’ meet your new co-worker.

A bell chimes as you step inside. Old computer advertisements adorn the walls while parts and models are neatly stacked into three aisles across the open front half of the room. The building itself is on the older side. Hopefully a bit more use will get it looking properly run down enough to seem like it’s always been a repair shop here.

The woman at the counter looks up with a smile, a phone pressed to her ear. She holds a finger up as you approach.

You didn’t hire Marcie for her customer service skills. You hired her because she’s a terminally incurious middle-aged woman who fully intends to spend as much of her time talking to friends on the store phone or otherwise shirking her duties as much as possible.

Leaning an arm against the counter you wait for her to finish her current conversation, drumming your fingers against the wooden countertop. Watch the clock on the wall tick the seconds by. Finally she hangs up and turns back to you with a tired expression. “Alright, what do you want?”

You put on a sickly sweet smile. “My name is Ariadne Becker? Y–your um… co-worker?”

Marcie blinks, frowns, then flushes red. “Oh!” She hurries out from behind the counter, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you were a customer.”

“I could tell.”

She puts her hand out and you give it a quick shake. “Are you really the only repairm–person here?”

“Eh.” You shrug, glancing at the beaded doorway to the back room. “If business ever picked up maybe it’d be worth hiring more.” Glance back to her, smile again. “For now, I’m it yeah. I don’t usually bother with – with um, the front entrance.”

“Well, if you ever need something from me, sweetie, you let old Marcie know, okay?”

You blink, not sure how to respond. She wasn’t this nice to Jane– ahem ‘Melissa Simone.’ “Uh. Y–yeah, sure. Thanks.” You cough. “Um… Ms. Simone gave you the – the rundown about the back right?”

Marcie looks at you, arching a skeptical eyebrow. “To stay the hell out? Yeah.” She leans in, “So… what are we fronting here sweetheart? Drugs? It’s drugs isn’t it.” She straightens her back with a dramatic sigh. “It’s always drugs.”

“I – what???” You stare at her. “W–we’re not – not ‘fronting’ anything!?”

She frowns. Is she… disappointed…!? “Oh? Really? Well. A job’s a job, I guess.”

“I… I just have a… very particular system. Okay?” You shove your hands into your pockets, looking away from her. Stare at the posters on the wall.

“Ah. You’re one of those.” One of those what? You can’t pick it up from her thoughts, just the sliding of her changing expectations. “Well, I’ll keep out of your hair, sweetie.” She steps aside, “It was nice to meet you Ariadne, dear.”

You walk past her in a daze. Push through the bed curtain into your ‘workshop.’ A central table has a pile of half-deconstructed computer cases, their silicon guts scattered haphazardly. A tool kit hangs from the wall alongside a clear plastic cabinet of replacement parts.

Hopefully the facade holds up. You don’t have much intention of actually doing computer repair work here. It’s more than a little concerning that Marcie of all people immediately jumped to the ‘criminal front’ explanation. Was hiring her a mistake? She doesn’t seem to actually care. Maybe you should go out of your way now and then to drum up business. Put some effort into looking legit.

Aside from the bathroom and breakroom, there’s one more room. Your actual workshop. The shop technically is built onto the side of an old warehouse. You’ve walled off most of the space, installed a hidden door, just inside next to the back door out.

You didn’t use up the entire warehouse. Just walled off a decent sized chunk. The rest has been dressed up. Mostly shelves of boxes full of bricks. Something that’ll pass at least cursory inspection.

The door slides open to your touch, keyed to your fingerprint. It springs back into place as you step past. The lights flicker on at low-power. Now here is where you can finally start to get shit done. Your armor is mounted to a secondary hidden compartment recessed into the far wall, next to a bed in case you need to crash or puppeteer Jane for a bit.

You’re particularly proud of the hiding place you’ve created for the Rat-King; an oversized lava lamp sits on the bedside table, a soft blue glow filling the room. Even if anyone breaks in here, anything of value will still be hidden. You’re not completely stupid.

One corner of the room is taken up by a bank of screens and a computer terminal. A system of motion detectors, CCTV, and trip alarms have been carefully set up over the past month in a two block radius around the shop. Nothing is coming near here without you getting some kind of record of it.

And then, last but not least, against one wall a full-length table stretches underneath a pristine corkboard.

Not pristine for long… You reach back into your pocket and pull out a wad of folded up, blood stained papers. The only thing you were able to salvage from the Marconi fiasco. Could have just pinned this while you were setting everything up, you guess.

But this feels more dramatic.

You grab a pin from the cork board and smooth out the creases with your other hand. Jam the paper to the middle of the board. A bill of sale for something called a ‘Regenerator.’ You don’t recognize the name of the buyer, but the listed seller is the personal assistant to Mayor Alvarez.

You pin a scattering of related articles next to the receipt, your prize from today’s factory theft. They’re all related to the sudden government take-over and closure of the regenerator’s parent company, PharmaCore.

What exactly is going on here; you have no idea. But it’s shady as shit, and that means it’s a point of attack. If you’re going to crack the damn city open, this is your starting point. You grab a pen and paper as you sit down at the desk.

You hum a tune under your breath as you work. Time to start planning out your next moves.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr/Ariadne

[sneezysmonsterlovin]

Alien Boyfriend: Yunko  Part 1

Not edited because yawn

Warnings?: Uh brief mention of death? Blood, but like really minor. I think that’s it.

Summary: You and your crew were shot down after returning from a rescue mission, and crash on an unknown planet. You find yourself waking from homeostasis, and are taken in by a pair of strange scavengers. 

Word Count: 2,519

The faint smell of something burning wakes you. Slowly opening your eyes, you feel something tight strapped your face. Something shatters not far from where you lay, muffled by the leathery belts wrapped around your head. You startle, sitting up quickly. Or, you would if your bones hadn’t felt like complete jelly. Your arms barely twitch, and you don’t think you can feel your legs.

Squinting in the dark room, you searched for the source of the noise. It was difficult, laid across an unknown slimy substance in a dimly lit room. The room was small, and you could see four giant glass containers, a dark black smoke slowly curling out the side of the one to your right. The air felt thick, and the more you breathed in the dizzier you felt. Struggling to turn your head, you felt a sharp pain in the back of your neck and you winced, freezing. A sharp piece of, what you assumed to be, glass dug into the back of your skull, the wet ooze below you seeping into the cut. “Oh no!” The high pitched shrill was somewhere behind you, accompanied by the click clacking of nails against the floor. A pair of hands clutched your shoulders, nails- no they were much to large, they were more like talons- dug into the cotton fabric clinging to your body. A second pair cradled your head, lifting it off the sludge and glass, and you gasped at the sight in front of you.

One of the glass containers, the one in front of you, had burst open. The one beside it had similar cracks in the surface, save for a single blackened hand hanging out of the largest breach, dripping in blood. The similar ooze that had stuck your legs and arms like glue as you were lifted was filling the other two containers that had not yet busted.

“Are you alive? Wait, that’s a dumb question, I meant are you okay?” The voice was closer now, beside your ear. You watched in silent horror, not able to move anymore than you were before, as a hand left your shoulder and reached towards your face. It was white, with two long curved talons and a smaller talon centered perfectly in the center of the hand. A black wristband strapped around it’s arm, covered slightly by a blue fluff that bellowed out into giant black feathers, shaping a gorgeous wing. The talons wrapped delicately around your mask and tugged, the leather straps loosening easily and dropping from your face. An oxygen mask, you noted briefly, before the hand tossed it away like trash and turned you gently.

You held your breath, stomach lurching as you were turned to face the alien creature whom cradled you in it’s arms like a fragile doll. It was smaller than you, not by much but it was noticeable. It’s head was round, lips hardened and black in what resembled a beak. Skin just as white as it’s hands, the blue fluff had trailed its way up the creatures arms and covered its body, it’s face clear reminding you vaguely of a monkey, with a few flecks of what you realized to be scales outlining it’s cheeks. The side of it’s head was shaved, a single black line-Tattoo?- sliding around the side of it’s head, curving around it’s cheek and stopping at the chin. In place of ears were small, bean shaped holes, and as your head drooped to the side you noticed it’s loose white collared tank, a second pair of arms sprouting closer to it’s stomach. The pair that had once cradled your head, you realized as the aforementioned hands trailed down your shoulders to wrap around your torso and thighs, the larger pair of arms supporting your neck and knees. “Right, I’ll get you to the med room. I can’t believe you survived so long, this ship must’ve been abandoned for a while if the rust is any indication.” You picked up a faint masculine tone to it’s voice, with a more apparent tone of muscles that pressed against your side as it lifted you easily. You were left with no other choice but to watch your surroundings as the creature carried you out of the room.

The ship was familiar, and as the alien practically skipped through the halls, you faintly recalled boarding it. You and your crew had just returned from transferring a group of refugees to a safe-zone when something had shot you down. In a rush to try and preserve yourselves, your crew had went into homeostasis. Tears pricked at your eyes following another rush of nausea as you realized who that hand from before had belonged to, and you tried your best to blink them away with a shaky breath. The woman had been like a second mother to you, having taken several bullets for you and you had trusted her completely. Your heart clenched, the blood rushing your cheeks as you choked a single, quiet sob. It had sounded horrid, voice croaky and broken, and the vibrations against your throat felt foreign. The creature- it seemed rude to just refer to it like that but you really had no clue what species it was, humans had only encountered two other intelligent alien species and neither had resembled this one. His feathers bristled at the noise you had made, and its tight grasp faltered. You noticed it staring at you out of the corner of your eye, but as the airlock opened and revealed the planet you had crashed on, you really could care less. Well, that’s not true, it was slightly unnerving to have those bright golden eyes, three of them, fixated entirely on your being. But as you stared out at the cold desert that seemed to stretch on forever, the horizon only breaking upon reaching a smaller ship then the one you had just been on,one that was sleek and black, with green lights and a curious logo stamped on the side of three eyes and tiny square just below it.

The wind seemed to be colder than the air itself though, and the warm fluff that was so tightly tugging you against it distracted you. The creatures pace picked up, and you reached the space ship in no time, door opening automatically at your-well, the aliens-presence. You noticed it smelt strongly of something familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it. And as the alien stepped farther up the stares, you noticed the creature smelled just the same, albeit a bit stronger.

The creature continued into the ship, the door slowly shutting itself behind it, and a voice echoed throughout the metal structure. It was clearly robotic, and spoke in a tongue that was just as strange as this whole incident. The alien cooed at you, seeming to find your expression shift into one of confusion amusing, and kept up his fast-paced skip walk. The ships insides were very open, a table centered in room with several stools nailed to the ground around it, twice as many doors lining the wall. A brief glance to the left of the table revealed the ships control room, but you only got a small glimpse of the many flashing buttons and lights before the alien had brought you through on of the doors on the far side of the room, one that was filled with several black beds, iron bars lifted just so slightly to keep patients from rolling off. There were plenty of cabinets and jars of different liquids with a language that you assumed was the one that the ships voice had used stamped onto the white tags taped to their sides.

“My name is Yunko, I’m a scavenger. You’re pretty lucky, you know.” The alien gently rested you on the bed nearest to the far wall, propping you up on a pillow that held the same texture and consistency as a bean bag, molding to your back like jello but stiff enough to hold you up. Yunko turned, resting one of his lower hands on the wall that faded from its plain silver metal into a sort of window, the gray sand and soft brown sky catching your eyes once again. “Your life pods were about to blow. Actually, they did, the liquid that was in yours just seemed to manage to protect you from most of the blow. Pretty cool. You’re pretty cool too, I’ve never seen something like you.” Yunko turned, and you watched in surprise as the scales that lined his eyes, cheeks, and nose turned a beautiful shade of orange. “I mean, someone. I think. My translator is active, so I’m assuming you’re capable of speech.” The orange lightened. and shifted back to the previous snowy color, and you almost wished he’d stayed the breathtaking color forever. You assumed it was a he, at least. It seemed rather masculine, although it is an alien so who was to tell.

“You should get some rest, I’ll be in the other ship, doing my job.” Yunko shrieked, and you concluded that it was in amusement. “As soon as you can move, you just come find me and we’ll run some tests to see if I have anything for you to eat.” With that, Yunk swiftly turned, skipping out of the room happily. Your gaze flickered down and realized that he wore a tight pair of silky pants that tightly hugged his bird-like legs, and peaking out of the bottom of his shirt was a pair of long black tail feathers. Gaze trailing even lower, you caught a glimpse of his strange feet, and realized that his skip-walk was due to a slight limp he had in his right leg, caused most likely due to a lack of talon on the inside of his clawed feet, throwing off his balance. You mused briefly that he looked kind of cute in the baby animal kind of way, before closing your eyes to ponder all that has happened.

You didn’t see Yunko again until what felt like hours later, spending your time mourning your lost friends and past life, very much aware of the fact that you might never see any of it again now that you’ve been stranded for who knows how long, and picked up by some random alien scavenger, that admittedly wasn’t as bad as you first feared. You were still a little worried he might turn out to just want to eat you- it wouldn’t be the first time you met an alien that saw humans as another food source rather than a fellow intelligence, but he was really your only hope. Your ship, if the gaping holes and smell of death were anything to go by, was in no condition to fly, and Yunko seemed nice enough. The thought that he might eat you was quieted when you realized if he wanted to do such a thing, he needn’t get you back to full health to do so, unless it was a weird alien ritual.

You weren’t tired, and felt restless to get out of bed, so as soon as you got feeling back in your legs you pulled yourself over the cold iron, only to regret it afterwards as you tumbled to the ground, your muscles not used to being used in such a long time. The sound of something clattering to the ground in the other room surprised you, and you looked up just in time to watch as the doors flew open and a new creature stormed in. This one was much larger than Yunko, and by extension, you. It had only one arm though, the spot the other would be covered in plenty of scars. He was completely scaly. except for a metal jaw and long red hair pulled back into a bun. He wore a tight sleeveless black suit, a gold belt hung loosely from his thin hips. He didn’t wear shoes either, his feet ending in a pair of hooves. His ears were pointed and droopy, a lighter shade of lavender than the rest of his body.

For a brief while, you simply stared wide eyed at the alien as he seemed to speak to you in the language from before, and he only paused when he seemed to realize you couldn’t understand him. His shoulders slumped and he raised a hand to his jaw, and you watched as he spoke once again. “She’s awake? Oh! Just stay right there! I’m just about finished, and then we can take off!” You realized the alien had called Yunko, as the bird man prattled on through the speaker, loud clashes of metal softly made its way through the speaker-er, the aliens jaw.

Said creature seemed to look exhausted as it made it’s way towards you, towering over you with such an intimidating presence you didn’t bother fighting as he plucked you up by your waist and made his way out of the room. The alien surprised you as he gently turned you over in his grasp, gently placing you onto one of the stools instead of dropping you like you had expected. He then turned without a second glance at you and made his way towards the control room.

You sat in silence, kicking your legs and every so often pressing your weight onto them, waiting for Yunko to arrive and break the uncomfortable silence that hovered like a storm cloud throughout the room. You could still see the other aliens muscly arm as it moved about the controls, and wondered quietly if every scavenger was as strong as these two.

Yunko didn’t take much longer to return, speeding through the archway that led to the common room with several bags tossed over his shoulders. Upon seeing you, he placed them down by the door, and rushed over like an excited child.

“You’re up! How are you feeling?” He trilled, talons clicking together when he leaned over the table to peer at your face.

“Okay...” You croaked, scrunching your nose once more at the uncomfortable feeling talking had caused. Yunko didn’t seem to notice, and simply tilted his head in interest at your expression. You briefly realized neither he nor the other alien made any real facial reactions, Yunko’s face stoic other than the occasional squinting, and the scarred alien having a literal jaw of steel, leaving not much room for any expressions in the first place.  

“You sound horrid.” Yunko stated simply. “But I guess I can’t imagine every alien to sound as darling as I.” He straightened, before looking over at the alien in the control room. “That’s Ciks. He looks plenty scarier than he actually is, don’t worry.” Yunko turned to look at you once again, eyes squinting as another birdlike shriek tore through his throat. The noise surprised you, as it did the first, and you couldn’t help but giggle quietly at the sudden noise. Yunko stared at you wide eyed, mouth slack before he straightened and nodded, motioning for you to follow him.

“This way, dear! Let’s go see what we can do.”

#Alien Boyfriend #Alien x Reader #Female Reader #Aliens #Stranded in space idk #exophilia #monster boyfriend #my writing #unedited #trash

[corvid-lullaby]

TLDR: I RP Nishiki both from 0, K1, and past that for AUs. I RP him canonically but I primarily base him off of a fanfic (SecT) I’m working on, of which he lives and where the events of K1 causes him to have what is outwardly believed to be Dissociative Personality Disorder (AKA Multiple Personalities.) One is of his former 0 self (Referred to as Nishiki) and the other is his K1 self (Referred to as Shikiya (Derived from Nishikiyama)).

However, Shiki isn’t just another facet to Nishiki, but ends up being a fully realized entity with his own thought process, opinions, etc. He even converses with Nishiki and interacts with him within the mind. Typically cold and standoffish, but how foul he can be highly depends on ‘when’ a post takes place. He’s at his worst during the events of K1, less terrible but nervous and beginning to be understanding post K1, and eventually very protective in a tsundere sense as the two continue to recover. Since the beginning, he has been in love with Nishiki, but it started out in an extremely toxic way. This has also improved over time.

For threads, I very much prefer it if you tell me your preference on what version of Nishiki you’d like. Be it 0’s, K1’s, my split personality SecT version, or something else. I’m very flexible and willing to cater towards your preferences.

To make things easier, the two will sometimes be colour coded. Generally, purple is for Nishiki, red is for Shiki, and pink/maroon is for both.

This Bio will cater towards my fanfic/AU Sect, and will have hints of FFXIV in it.

Nishiki (Akira, Koi)

Shikiya (Shiki, Crow)

Basics

Represented with purple

Birthday: October 8

Species: Human/Hyur

Race: Japanese/Doman

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual, switch

Romantic Status: Polyamorous

Scent: Sweet potpourri with hints of something kin to rain as well as a higher quality cigarette scent.

Personality: Typically energetic, easy going, and friendly. He can become bubbly and peppy around friends or if it fits the situation’s mood. Flamboyant to no end, yet sensitive. Beware for he is completely capable of embarrassing himself or a friend for the sake of being a complete dork. He also enjoys teasing Shikiya from to to time. May or may not be easy to cry.

Represented with red

Age: ? (5 ½ If you want to age him by years he has ‘existed’)Birthday: Unknown. Sometime in the fall.

Species: None/Unknown

Gender: None due to only being a mental entity, but prefers 'him, ect.’ To him, gender is nothing more than an aesthetic.

Sexuality: Pansexual, dominant

Romantic Status: Polyamorous

Scent: General floral with a note of mint and occasionally a nice higher quality cigarette scent.

Personality: Relatively cold and quiet. He’s very poor at regular conversation where awkward silences can be common. Awkward for you, not him. He couldn’t care otherwise. On the other hand, he’s very adept at being a leader and in battle. It’s these times where he shines the most. If a fight gets violent enough, it could bring out his bloodthirsty side where he loses himself in the enjoyment of a difficult kill.

He hasn’t been 'alive’ for very long. Only 5 ½ to 6 years. This can sometimes show through by ways of his random curiosity on even the most mundane of subjects, as well as being extremely gullible on anything he knows little to nothing about. This isn’t to be confused with being stupid, which he very much isn’t. Although his lack of personal experience can cause him to come off a bit innocent at times.

Yes, he can use Nishiki’s mind and memories as a filing cabinet for knowledge, but he has to seek and learn it himself. He doesn’t automatically know everything Nishiki does. On top of that there are things in life where experiencing it for yourself is entirely different from simply knowing and understanding it.

As with being a 6 year old in an adult body, he can be quite the greedy little brat and be completely ignorant to a lot of stuff around him. Such as the feelings of others.

Physical

Voice: Commonly chipper and energetic. His vocal range for normal speaking can be highly varied and playful due to his flamboyant nature. Vocal example.

Height: 5'11

Build: Swimmer’s but not overly built, and an extra emphasis on the stomach due to high mono fin usage.

Common Clothing: He can typically be found in a clean maroon suit with a black silk undershirt swimming with loud golden print. He enjoys dressing up so he can be found in other clothing. There’s also a high enjoyment in traditional Japanese wear, but he usually only wears this either privately at home or on special occasions.

Distinguishing Attributes: Koi irezumi (tattoo) on the back. Burn scars on the front and side of the right half of his stomach. Since Shikiya came to be, he began exhibiting a faint amber glow to his irises under dimmer lighting. This only shows if Shikiya is currently aware and present to the current situation, regardless if he’s the one speaking/in control or not. He also has a belly button piercing.

Weapons: Carries a gun but prefers hand to hand.

Fighting Styles: Does well with a gun and close range weaponless combat, although not as good as Shikiya. Preferably he’d rather fight with his fists. While his sworn brother, Kiryu, is extremely strong, Nishiki tends to be quicker and more light footed than he, but not nearly as strong. Even though Shikiya is skilled with the sword, Nishiki is a complete klutz with it. He’s far more likely to stab his own foot. Still, he does enjoy Iaido at home… even if he’s bad at that too.

Voice: Still Nishiki’s natural voice physically but sounds notably lower, calmer, and cold. Within Nishiki’s mind, it can sound severely or slightly altered in various ways. Be it higher, lower, masculinized, or feminized, or some inhuman alteration. At times it even sounds like he has multiple vocals going at once. An example can be found here at 3:40. Warning: the end of the video has implied suicide. Again this is not his physical voice that everyone else hears, but how Nishiki perceives his voice in his mind sometimes.

Common Clothing: Often professionally dressed. Usually in mostly white with black accents. Occasionally can be found in all black (even the tabi) traditional Japanese/Doman clothing which could include a hakkuma, waraji, and ornamental fabric around the neck.

Distinguishing Attributes: Outwardly it still is Nishiki’s body, but with minor differences due to Shikiya being an entirely different entity. There is a faint amber glow to the irises that is visible under dimmer lighting. He often looks either irritated or melancholy in comparison. Also has a smooth and calculated gait. He hates having his hair in his face, so it’s often put back in some way.

Weapons: Besides a gun, can sometimes be found with a katana.

Fighting Styles: He’s far more skilled at the gun and close range weaponless fighting than Nishiki. He’s also skilled with the katana, primarily with Iaijutsu. He is also fond of Iaido, but this is used more for self balancing and self discipline training rather than fighting.

Personal

Professions: Cabaret Host, mermaider, and aquatic caretaker at a cabaret, hitman, mercenary, former yakuza patriarch (still helps advising and running his Family although no longer officially a part of it)

Disabilities: PTSD (Fiercely covers this up), “dissociative personality disorder”, schizophrenia, chronic klutz

Hobbies: Aquatic biology, eating, swimming, still eating, various arts and crafts, also never stops eating. No, we don’t know where it goes.

Fears: Abandonment, sedatephobia (Fear of silence), autophobia (Fear of being alone, although Shiki’s presence cures this, for better or for worse)

Quirks: Says “koi” in playful situations with various meanings depending on context. For example, hell say “Koi koi!” while giving someone an overly loving hug. In this case he could mean ‘love love.’ Another would be him saying this while beckoning someone with a finger. In this case it could be ‘come come.’

Habits: Flirtatious at times without realizing it. Sometimes he’ll go into a severely reclusive state when his mind starts going into darker places. If it gets bad enough, he can fall into varying states of psychosis.

Professions: Hitman, mercenary. Although Nishiki has officially retired from being a Patriarch and is no longer a part of the Nishikiyama Family, the Family still respects him as if he is still the Patriarch. The higher positioned people know of Nishiki’s split personality and especially treats Shikiya with respect. Shikiya still occasionally returns to the Family office when needed or to take up stray jobs.

Disabilities: None

Hobbies: Yakuza odds and ends, Chess, Iaido

Fears: Ceasing to exist, disappearing, being locked away mentally

Quirks: Finds having longer nails being more comfortable

Habits: Rubs the back of his neck when sleepy and/or when overly comfortable, seems to have poor restraint or realization on impulses (ie can drag his nails too roughly to the point of being painful when he means to simply pet, or fingers can give gestures of wanting to wrap around a neck to strangle but is obviously restraining himself)

Traits

*Bold is typically. Italics is situational.*

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open-Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Laid-back / In Between / Hyperactive

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional/ In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

*Bold is typically. Italics is situational.*

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open-Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Laid-back / In Between / Hyperactive

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Background Summary

**Contains major Yakuza spoilers for 0 and 1/K1** **Based on AU Fanfic SecT**

Can be found here.

RP Hooks

Dirty Jobs: Given that Shikiya highly enjoys challenges, fighting, the thrill of the kill, and because Nishiki retired from a position that fulfilled those cravings, he’s pretty willing to take on the more dangerous tasks. He has a lot of skills and experience under his belt due to being an ex-Patriarch to his own Family. He also has a lot of resources with that Family since they still highly respect him. Sometimes Nishiki can be found doing this too, but it’s typically due to Shikiya picking up a job and dumping the job on him. It’s usually out of a negative sort of amusement.

Subordinates/Nishikiyama Family: Both Nishiki and Shikiya offer hirings into their Yakuza Family. The Family is ultimately very strict and harsh, especially towards newcomers with their heads in their asses, but actually have a tight bond with one another. It’s easy to tell when their strict and harsh behavior is out of care or not. For Shikiya in particular, he does look for those that would qualify as good right hand members for himself. Needless to say, anyone attempting this sort of position will be put through the ringer, as Shikiya is anything but soft and kind.

Cabaret Host: Nishiki’s primary job is both a host and for aquatic maintenance at an aquatic/mermaid themed mixed gender cabaret club. The club itself does traditional hosts/hostesses but also has a section for their mermaiding. Just as Shikiya gets a kick out of sometimes dumping his jobs onto Nishiki, Nishiki also does the same by 'shoving’ Shikiya out sometimes while working, although rarely. He sometimes goes on paid dates with trusted customers, but will absolutely refuse going down any sexual routes.

General Buddy: Nishiki is pretty friendly and energetic, but is also the type to easily get lonely. He’s always willing to hang out for the sake of hanging out. This includes anything simple, such as going out for a drink or karaoke. Shikiya, on the other hand, is too cold and awkward for this sort of thing. He’s better suited as a companion on the field of battle.

Aquatic Biologist: It isn’t a profession of his, but rather a hobby gone out of control. He knows more about freshwater over marine, but he’s always willing to offer advice or help in regards to this.

#at gun point• #nishiki• #shikiya• #bio

[hardyimagines]

Mended

———

After the failed task, Farrier is mad & goes to a random bar, to forget what happened. He meets this young girl & takes her with him. They have sex but gets too aggressive & she asks him to stop but doesn’t til he’s finished. After that he just tears down because he realized what he has done. They both talk through the night. After that they both become close & talk regularly. Farrier likes her a lot because he has someone to talk. Even though he’s still sorry about the night, she forgives him. — anon

WARNINGS ( IMPORTANT ) : TRIGGER WARNING, forced sex.

———-

The sun casted its ray over the length of the city. Couples walked hand in hand beneath the romantic scenery, pointing out the array of colors. Oranges mingled with purples. Faint pinks could be seen peeking through the clouds which vanished as the night made itself known. The only people who wanted to remain out in the cold city were those who had tucked themselves away inside crowded, cheap bars. It was nights like this when you dreading going to work. Busy, busy, busy, your feet were hurting halfway through your shift. Hands sticky from spilled alcohol and eyes straining from the amount of times you’d rolled them when receiving insulting ‘pick-up lines’.

The clock in the corner seemed to stand still. You swore the minute hand hadn’t moved in the last hour. You stood with your hip jutted out to one side, yellow painted fingernails gripping on to the soaked rag in your hand. The cloth had various different types of liquor embedded in its fabric from the clumsy oafs who’d knocked over their glasses when standing or getting too rowdy. You heaved a hundredth sigh before tearing your gaze away from the clock and instead tending to the customers once more.

“Time stands still, you know, when you’re constantly checking it.” A sudden voice creeped out under the quiet music that filled the establishment. You moved your gaze to one of the occupants at the bar. His elbows were on the bar, fingertips tracing the rim of the glass that was half-empty. His blue eyes met yours for only a moment before he tore them away and instead looked to the countertop that had recently been cleaned. He licked his plump lips before guiding his liquor to his lips, taking a lengthy gulp. You arched a brow before setting the rag in your hand down on the counter.

“It’s a bit difficult not to keep checking. Busy night, but only because people come in herds. The next rush won’t come for another twenty minutes.” Your poor attempt to defend your constant time checking only made you seem eager for conversation — but you suppose you were. Standing in the silence with nothing but yourself to talk to was quite draining and it certainly wasn’t distracting. But the handsome bloke sat at the bar, well he looked rather.. intriguing. You supposed twenty minutes might fly by if you indulged in conversation with him. His lips twitched at the sides, lashes long beneath the dim lighting in the room each time he blinked.

“I figured. You’ve cleaned this counter three times and checked the clock over the last ten minutes.” His voice was low and husky, you really had to strain your ears in order to hear him clearly. Withdrawing a bucket of dirty dishes from underneath the cabinet, you moved to the sink. Turning the nozzle so hot water poured from the faucet, you looked over your shoulder at him, waiting for him to continue speaking. You sensed, from the way he held his breath at the end of his sentence that he had more to say. He did. “So what are you doing working here? It must get tiring to have a career that you can’t wait to get away from. Home sounds lovely.. at the end of a shift, but if you can hardly survive through the middle..” His shoulders shrugged, a sign that he was sure he didn’t need to verbally finish his sentence. You avoided the urge to roll your eyes. He had a point, but you hated men that had points — or at least, men that felt the need to point something out that you didn’t already know.

“I don’t intend on being a bartender for the rest of my life. The pay isn’t exactly ideal and it’s certainly not my passion.” You whispered as you gripped the sponge to your right. Bathing the tupperware in soap and hot water, you began to scrub at the stained plates and sticky glasses. He watched you closely, eyes dropping to the way your hips shook as you vigorously cleaned. His stare didn’t linger.

“What is your passion?” The conversation was light and friendly, one that you found yourself to be entertained with.

“Drawing.” Your answer was soft. “That’s not going to get me anywhere though, is it? Realistically, I’d want to be a chef of some sort.” Your quiet giggle made his ears perk up.

“Can you cook?” He spoke into his glass, finishing off his alcohol without much thought. He set the glass down a little too loudly, bottomside clacking against the wooden surface.

“Not really.” You told him truthfully. “So that’s kind of a poor career choice.” You set dish after dish to the side, ensuring that each one was perfectly clean and dried before you tucked it away in its proper position. Farrier found, as he spoke to you, that he’d briefly forgotten of why he’d come to this hole in the wall to drink away his sorrows. But at the topic of jobs and careers, he found himself thinking of his own. You looked to him. He didn’t seem like the type to open up instantly like you did, so you didn’t ask anything personal. What he wanted shared, he would say.

“You can learn to cook if a chef is what you really want to do.” He uttered as he dug his hand into his pocket. Gripping a few bills, he set them on the counter in order to pay for his drink before he slouched. The tension in his body was evident, one that made you want to ask questions, but you knew better.

“I’ll think about it.” You smiled before taking his glass. “Did you want a refill?”

“No, that’s alright. I think I’ve had enough.” He had. Four shots and a glass of beer would go straight to his head. It always did. One minute he was fine and the next he’d be drowning in the alcohol that consumed him. His confidence would grow and his bravery would outshine his usually shy self. Farrier scratched the back of his neck before moving his hand along the base of his skull and through his hair.

“You know your limit. That’s good, I’m horrible at keeping track of mine.” You hmphed. Cleaning off his dish so it could be re-used for another thirsty customer, you looked toward him, noting the way he didn’t get up to leave even though he was finished drinking. “Can I get you anything else?” He shook his head lightly before pausing. His eyes lifted to yours. He figured he was pushing his luck, but at the same time, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“What time are you off?” He asked quietly. His hands folded on top of the bar counter, sweet blue eyes moving between your own. Your brows raised at his question. Leaning against the counter, you bit your cheek and straightened under his stare.

“I’m..” The hesitation wasn’t because of his question. But more so your age. You could tell he was definitely in his thirties, maybe mid to late. And you well you were in your early twenties still. Some people still referred to you as a baby. “well, I’m off at 12.” Farrier grunted before looking to the clock. Almost 8. He looked back to you, fingers lazily tracing the surface. He wasn’t sure what it was about you, but holding a conversation had made him forget about the failure that he’d gone through earlier. Being a war pilot wasn’t easy and the tragedy that struck — alongside the fact that it was partially his fault was so agonizing... his thoughts were silenced when you spoke up again. “Why’d you ask?” Your vulnerability was suddenly clear. Your innocence and purity. Your age. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Drinking away his problems certainly wasn’t working, so maybe talking them away and fucking them out of his system would. He folded his arms and leaned back on the stool. He’d be blunt with you.

“I’d like to take you back to mine.” He grumbled out. Putting himself out in the open, it didn’t make him afraid. His job scared him more than flirting or asking a girl out ever could. You grew shy under his stare, fidgety, and he could tell he’d caught you off guard, but you wouldn’t turn him down. And you didn’t.

“Are you sure you want to wait on me?” Your question told him that you thought he’d rather find someone else. His head bobbed, no reluctance or hesitation.

“Positive.” He assured you before moving his hand to his cheek. His warm palm enveloped his heated skin. He’d sit and wait. He didn’t have anything else to do.. and at least here he could drink his boredom momentarily to the side.

——

Your shift had ended and the time to head home was now — well to Farrier’s home. The streets were empty, each road pitch black apart from the poor street lights. His hand brushed yours now and then as the two of you walked, feet sinking into small puddles of rain which had fallen in the downpour earlier that day.

“So, what’s your name?” You asked softly, halfway to your destination. This wasn’t routine. You didn’t sleep with customers that hit on you, ever. But he seemed.. different. So soft. He wasn’t rowdy and rude and he hadn’t said anything hurtful or poisonous when you took a while to get his drink. He’d been collected and calm and you supposed it was just attraction that made you give into him.

“Farrier.” He told you softly. The keys he drew out of his pocket jingled noisily. He turned left and led you toward a building of apartments. The extieror was tall and intimidating. You couldn’t imagine was the inside looked like. Luckily, you wouldn’t have to. Farrier sounded like a last name more than a first name, but you didn’t inquire which it was, nor did you ask if he had any other parts to his name.

“I’m Y/N.” You told him softly. Standing at his side, shivering in the cold, night air, you gratefully stepped into the complex when he held the door open for you. He complimented your name under his breath, large palm finding your lower back as he guided you down the hall and toward the elevator. His compliment had been heard, but because of how soft he’d said it, you kept your flattery to yourself and instead pretended like you hadn’t heard anything. The sound of his footsteps mixed with yours as you both walked quietly down the length of the corridor. The hallways were empty, and it made you feel like the two of you were alone in the world.

Farrier opened the door to his room and as soon as the two of you stepped in, he locked the room. Setting his keys down on the wooden table in the corner, he kicked off his shoes and let out an exhale that sounded like he’d been holding it in for a good while. His eyes lifted to you, scrutinizing.

“Do you want a drink?” He asked. You sensed he was still foggy-brained from the liquor he hadn’t stopped drinking over the course of the night. It was evident he knew how to hold his drink and not lose consciousness, but you didn’t want to take him up on his offer. He was liable to drink with you and you thought it would be rather strange if he did pass out and you were left all on your own at his place. Politely declining, you pulled off your purse and set it on the table where he had placed his keys.

“Not to be invasive.. but do you do this often?” Your question almost made him smile. Farrier sat down on the edge of the bed and extended his legs. His hands moved through his locks, scratching them noisily.

“No. As a matter of fact I don’t ever do this. I don’t have the time. I’m a war pilot.. and if you want the absolute truth, you’ve helped distract me tonight from a.. just something that happened to me earlier.” Once again, not your business to pry. You moved around the furniture until you were able to drop down at his side. Crossing your legs, you folded your hands together in your lap and looked toward him. It felt nice to be wanted, even if it meant you were just a distraction.

“Me neither.. I’m not sure why I even came here.” You told him quietly. “Apart from the fact that I find you extremely attractive.. I would’ve never ever done this. I don’t just go home with strange men.” His eyes moved to yours, searching them. There was a tint of amusement, but a cloudiness which seemed to be growing was covering his emotions. He was drunk and it was going to begin taking its toll on him. Farrier moved his hand to your leg, touch featherlight.

“Well, you still have a chance to leave.” He mumbled. You were very aware of that, but you didn’t want to go. Your body tingled from his touch, eyes fluttering in the slightest. Shaking your head along to his words, you leaned into him slowly. “Or..” He admired the way you confidently leaned toward him. “we can have some fun.” Your hand lifted to his arm, gliding along the length of it until your palm was on his shoulder. Closing the rest of the space that remained between the two of you, your lips locked and your eyes closed simultaneously. Farrier moved his hand along your leg before smoothly hooking it under your knee. Lifting your thigh, he drew your leg over his hips and smoothly hoisted you on top of him.

It had been a while since you’d been physical with anyone. Work and education seemed to occupy majority of your time so this was a rarity. You didn’t have to tell him that though. The fact that you were here, willing to sleep with a man you hardly knew, was enough to let him know that you at least weren’t a virgin. Farrier’s hands were in your hair and on your neck, gliding along the material of your work attire. He was like a man, starved of a woman’s touch — but that wasn’t the case. No, he was desperate for a distraction. For an outlet. All the frustration in his body for failing his designated task earlier was pent up and wanted so badly to be set free. The man rolled you over on the mattress and pinned your body beneath his own. You weren’t surprised by his feverish movements. He wasn’t making love to you, this was just casual sex. It was okay to be in a rush and desperate for some physicalness. You didn’t try to slow him down or halt him, you simply laid beneath him and matched the pace of his kisses. Little moans of enjoyment escaped you, lips pressed together and tongues gliding across one another. He moved his hands to your thighs, tracing the outer parts of them. The trousers you wore were long and dark, but easy to get out of. A pinch of the zip and a slide of the button, and the things were easy to drag down the length of your thighs. You kicked them off eagerly, discarding them carelessly on the floor. You sat up then to remove your blouse and farrier took that time to get out of his own clothing. His button down was off in seconds and his trousers — well, he stood up to remove them, clambering off of the bed so he could shove the heavy material to the ground. He was back on top of you, reconnecting his mouth with your own before you had a proper chance to breathe. His boxers pressed against your thighs repeatedly, hips desperately and clumsily searching to press against your own. You almost giggled out against his lips at his frazzled movements, but as you opened your mouth to release the sound of laughter, his hips pressed to your own and his groin dragged over yours.

He repeated the action. Again, and again, and again until your nails were buried in his forearms and your chest heaved due to your heavy pants. Your hips lifted toward his own, rocking in time with his desperate bucking. He took a moment to get his boxers off, but when he finally did, you swore he was going to tear your panties off. He basically did. The fabric was ripped from your body to follow after his boxers on the ground. Your bra was still on, embracing your breasts in a way that a man hadn’t done in so long. He didn’t take the time to remove it, he seemed so achingly desperate to just get on with this. You didn’t have any time at all to admire his body before he was shuffling his knees and trying to guide himself into you. You squirmed momentarily, small hand lowering so you could rub your clit and ease some of the little ache that was going to be present when he slid into you. It helped significantly. Farrier sunk into you with ease, but only because of the way you desperately massaged the bundle of nerves. He let out a choked groan before pressing his lips to your own. His mouth slanted against your own nicely as it had done moments ago.

Farrier wanted to be still and let you adjust to him, but all the pent up emotions inside him and lack of self control from the alcohol made his hips unforgivingly begin to rock. His thrusts were a bit angry and firm, an instant and desperate pace that you couldn’t match even if you tried. You winced beneath him softly before grimacing. There was no way you could adjust to this pace because your body was doing its best to stop him, not get use to him.

“Farrier..” You breathed out. Your hands moved to his sides. “Hang on.” He didn’t. He tried, a little, but he couldn’t. His body refused to stop, even for a moment. You groaned out in pain, small hand sliding south to try and grip his shaft and stop his thrusts, but to no avail. He was quite a good size which meant that it wasn’t going to be very easy to just guide him out of you. You whimpered out, legs closing tightly around his hips. “Farrier- please.” Your eyes clamped shut for a second, insides tightening around him further. You whimpered out in pain, fingers clumsily trying to massage some sort of pleasure into the painful mix, but it didn’t work. Your brain screamed for him to stop, but you couldn’t get out the loud plea, only a soft beg and he didn’t seem to register it. Your eyes opened and you saw the emptiness in his gaze. They were raw. No emotion. He was fueled only by his lust and anger, brain turned off and body on automatic. His hands were so strong, like a vice around your wrists when he suddenly took hold of them and pinned them above your head. Your eyes widened then, a small bubble of fear forming. His thrusts became harder, uncomfortably rough as he hammered himself into you. Your mouth hung open in a silent cry, knees bending and toes curling. All you could do was wait. He was so much stronger and he had you pinned completely.

Farrier wanted to stop. He felt like his self control had completely vanished. He stared down at you, watching the way your face twisted into a look of distaste and then pain. He wanted to still inside you, apologize for his behavior and be much, much gentler, but the anger from earlier was overriding his common sense and he took it out on you. All your clenching and tightening around him was pushing him closer and closer to the edge and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Lusting after someone and being able to have them made it so much easier to climax.

He did. It felt like an eternity to you, and maybe only five minutes to him. His grip on you slackened and his cock twitched inside you. You felt the way his hips shook as he emptied himsef inside you. Your brain instantly attacked you. ‘Stupid’, ‘foolish’, ‘an absolute idiot’. Not only had you slept with a stranger. You’d let him take advantage of you AND you hadn’t used a condom. Your body quaked the second he slid out of you. Rolling away from him so you could lay on your side, you covered your face with your hands and swallowed down the embarrassment in your belly. Farrier shrank back. He was still knelt on the bed, stomach rising and falling with his heavy breaths. He stared at you, completely frozen. It was as if he hadn’t registered what he’d just done. He was staring at you, watching your unmoving form. You were scared to get up. To run for the door. What if he grabbed you and threw you down only to repeat what he’d just done. It was silent. You couldn’t see him. And then, all of a sudden, it was loud.

Farrier growled loudly, kicking over a nearby chair. His hands were curled against the back of his skull, feet thudding loudly against the tile as he walked around the room. He shoved furniture that was in his way and threw small items that sat, out of the way, on the counters. You shakily looked toward him, watching the man go insane. He was red-faced and seemingly livid. The plaid boxers he wore hid the weapon he’d just used on you, and them all of a sudden, this big, strong, angry man crumbled. Farrier collapsed on the sofa. His head fell to his hands, shoulders shaking with his ragged inhales. You sat up on the bed, watery eyes dragging along his form. It was obvious that he regretted what had happened and even more obvious that he’d regretted it while it had been happening. You slid off of the bed and slowly lifted your underwear. Pulling the red fabric up and along your thighs, you cleared your throat. The space between your legs was already unbelievably sore as you moved. You hated yourself because you felt bad for the man. And you hated yourself even more for wanting to comfort him. Your droopy eyes closed momentarily before you slowly crossed the floor. Avoiding broken things he’d thrown, you slowly settled down at his side; wincing at the discomfort you found from sitting.

“Farrier.” You whispered. He didn’t look to you. Guilt swallowed him whole. He wanted to seep into the floor and vanish. “Farrier,” Your hand moved to his shoulder slowly. Squeezing his muscles gently, you shied away when he looked toward you. Red rims lined his eyes.

“What are you doing?” He spoke under his breath. He hurt you. He used you. Why were you still sitting here?

“Checking on you.” You whispered breathily. Your eyes dropped to your lap. Covering your body with your arms as best as you could, you frowned. You should’ve left, but you saw the pain and regret he was carrying with him.

“You’re..” He sighed, hands lifting to his face. Rubbing his features down, he stood. Moving over to the closet, he drew out a blanket and moved back over to you. Draping the fabric over your shoulders, he sealed the front closed around your body and bit his cheek. “I’m so sorry, I.. I don’t know what came over me.” His eyes fell to his feet. “I’m not going to make excuses. I can’t believe I just did what I did.” You shifted on the couch before standing. Gazing up at him, you slowly pressed your lips together, pondering what to say.

“I don’t know what to say.. what you did was wrong. And it really, really hurt.” Beneath his unwavering stare, you wanted to cower away, but you stood your ground. “But, I don’t think you meant to do it. I knew from the beginning of the night you’ve got something bothering you and you only brought me here to be a distraction. I guess.. it didn’t really help?” Farrier exhaled loudly. He sat down on the sofa before looking toward the floor. You sat back down as well, curling up.

“It did.. I needed an outlet for all this unhappiness and I used you.” He whispered. “I didn’t mean to, I swear.” Rotating, his blue eyes latched on to yours. “Do you want me to take you home?” He asked.

“No.” You whispered quietly before looking to your lap. “I want to stay.. how crazy does that make me?” Opening the blanket, you offered some to him before moving in closer. He hadn’t meant to hurt you. You saw that. Farrier didn’t respond verbally, he merely moved closer to you. He was much softer now. His arm wound around your front, head finding your shoulder. Now he wanted comfort. It was wrong to seek such affection from a stranger after using said stranger in such a rough manner, but you weren’t complaining now. Not in the slightest. Your hand lifted to his head, slowly brushing through his brown locks. “Can I ask.. what happened to make you so stressed out?” Your question was breathy, it wasn’t prying, just curiosity. Farrier licked his lips before slowly parting his lips.

“I’m a war pilot.” He told you quietly. It probably wasn’t wise to discuss missions with strangers, but he owed it to you. You didn’t deserve what he’d done. His fingers lazily kneaded your hip, stroking and caressing your warm skin. “I failed my task.. and it’s been eating me alive. I can’t go into detail, not much, but my mistake resulted in the deaths of men.” You drew him in closer.

“I’m sure you’re not to blame. Accidents happen, even at war.” You spoke against his ear. Your nails moved along his neck and down to his back. His muscles ripples beneath your fingers. He was so warm and toned, your eyes dropped to his flesh. So very handsome. You frowned. You couldn’t believe this man had just possessed so much power and anger. Now he was a puppy. Farrier closed his eyes again. He didn’t understand why you were being so good to him and comforting, but he was extremely grateful. He nuzzled into you closer. His strokes didn’t stop, and neither did his apologies. In the silences, he reminded you of how sorry he was and you could hear the genuineness in his tone. His apologies grew mumbled and sleepy, a hazy string of words which became incoherent as he fell asleep. Alcohol-infused and anger-drained, the man fell asleep with his head on your shoulder and his arm wrapped around you. It was quite comfortable and you felt very secure in his embrace. You fell asleep directly after he did.

——

Morning came before either of you would’ve liked. Your body was achy and sore. Internally you felt like you’d been sawed in half. Your wrists ached and the insides of your thighs were no doubt a little bruised. But you didn’t complain. The scent of coffee was strong in the little apartment. Farrier moved around the room, bags under his tired eyes as he approached the sofa with two mugs full of the steaming beverage. He placed yours down on the table before settling down at your side and sipping his own. The morning greeting was a shy smile and a gesture to the coffee. You sleepily nodded in thanks before moving toward him so you could kiss his cheek. The gesture was a simple reminder that he didn’t need to apologize a hundred times today. Hunching over to retrieve the glass, you guided it to your lips and moaned out breathily at the heat and sudden awakeness. Farrier smiled softly.

“Do you work today?” He asked. His voice was husky and deep, his question soft and fueled with curiosity. You nodded, mouth full of coffee. Swallowing, you slumped against the cushions.

“Night shift. I work every other day.” Brushing your tangled locks out of your eyes, you set your elbow on the back of the couch and examined him in the morning light that poured through the curtains. He looked so different. Even handsomer than you thought — how was that possible?

“Could I stop by again tonight?” He asked. Placing his glass on the table, he turned on the sofa to face you. Your eyes fell briefly to his flexed chest, admiring it blatantly before your eyes slid up to his own. A little hum escaped your lips before you snapped out of your trance.

“What? Yes- yeah, of course you can. I’m always there from 6 to 12, sometimes a little earlier.” You told him quietly. Finishing off your cup of coffee, you placed it down beside his half full one and soaked up the warmth from the comforter. Farrier nodded his head. He pursed his lips, pondering what the events of today would lead to. He seemed distant, but you could tell that today, he was actually very present. You stood, brushing past him so you could retrieve your clothes from the corner. He watched you closely before tearing his eyes away when he realized you were just re-dressing. He respected your privacy so instead fixed his gaze back on his coffee. You approached once you’d clothes yourself. “I have to go home and shower.. get a change of clothes and make sure my puppy is okay, but I’ll see you tonight?” Halting in front of his legs, you stared down at the handsome fellow. He stood then, brushing his hands off on his stomach before he bobbed his head.

“I’ll stop by.” He assured you. His eyes moved along your face, scanning your delicate features. He was going to make up for what he’d done the previous nigh. His hand moved to a strand of your hair. Brushing it back and behind your ear, he leaned in to kiss your cheek as you’d done to his. You turned your head though and swiftly caught his lips with your own. He stilled, breaths deepening instantly before his hand moved to the side of your throat. Cradling it gently, his thumb slid along your jaw. Savoring the soft, slow, but relatively brief kiss, his lips tugged upwards when you pulled back.

“See you tonight!” You called out as you rotated, sneakers dragging along the carpet as you made your way out of the room and then away from the building.

————

Farrier was different. A sober farrier was far, far different than the man who’d taken you home all that time ago. Weeks ago. He visited your work every other night. Sometimes he stayed for one drink, other times he didn’t touch the stuff. But he was always there. Conversations made the time go by entirely too quickly and since you didn’t go home with him... every night... you dreaded the end of your shift. But on the nights when he asked if he could wait around until midnight, those were the nights you knew you’d been sharing his bed with him. He was a terrific lover. No alcohol in his system or rage in his body, he cared for every inch of your skin and had you writhing beneath him in ecstasy. It was just casual. Just fun. Just friendly, you thought. The sex was infused with laughter and clumsiness and the conversations at work were innocent. Innocent until he was leaning across the bar so he could kiss you. Innocent until he took hold of your small palm when you passed and made your cheeks ache from his sweet talk. He was a charmer and you were falling for him. It was evident he was too. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been quick to jump on any man that dared drunkenly flirt. He was protective and defensive and he made it clear that he wanted you to only be with him.

The clock read ten. You still had two hours of your shift left. It was a very slow night though, so slow that you’d found yourself sitting on the opposite side of the bar, directly beside farrier. Your chin rested in your hand, elbow planted on the top of the counter. Farrier was whispering in your ear, hand trailing along the length of your leg as he nipped playfully at your earlobe.

“I want you to be my girl.” He mumbled out suddenly. His words seemed foggy in your lust-clouded mind, but when you drew back to see if you’d misheard him, the cheeky grin he wore assured you that you’d heard right. His blue eyes moved between your own, hand moving to the bottom of your skirt. He pinched the fabric playfully before drawing you forward so he could steal a soft kiss. “Mh?” His grunt was enough inquiry. You bit your bottom lip before slowly placing your hand on his cheek. Caressing his skin absentmindedly, you leaned in and kissed his nose before standing.

“I’ll think about it.” You told him breathily before moving around the counter to tend to the gents who’d just entered. It didn’t take long. Beers were handed to two of them and a shot of vodka to another. You smiled kindly, dismissively, before returning to farrier. “What do I get if I date you?” You whispered. The man smiled slowly, enjoying the fact that you were dragging this out. He knew your answer already.

“Kisses.. good sex, constant visitations to work.” He chortled. You smirked.

“So basically.. everything you give me now?”

“Basically.” He nodded. “But you can stay around mine a lot more often. I can give you a key to my place?” He reached across the bar and grasped your hand as he’d done earlier. “Plus,” He didn’t just date anybody. Farrier only wanted to be with someone he truly cared about. “I’m going to take care of you. And that’s a promise.” A little smile crossed over your features before you slowly leaned over the bar and kissed him repeatedly. The surrounding men wondered to themselves why their service wasn’t as good as farrier’s, but they didn’t verbally complain.

“Alright.. I suppose I’ll be your girl.” You whispered. Brushing your nose over his own lazily, you bit his bottom lip before drawing back and rotating on your heel. You had customers to tend to and as annoying as it was, you enjoyed the heated stare that belonged to your boyfriend. He watched your every move and that gave you an advantage. Teasing a man was so, so fun. Especially when it was your man.

———————————————————————

@peakblogbecauseimweak @bsotstory @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @xxxxxeroxxxxx @wheresthewater @anrm1 @pansexualginger @marvelgirl7 @evilspretty-dead @heyitscam99 @wow-he-cute @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @sparklyreaderx @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @giftofdreams @ihclipse @meer0rauschen @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @jamierdr @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @matoki-darkpanda @bignastyfan-nz

#tom hardy x reader #tom hardy imagine #farrier x reader #farrier imagine #dunkirk imagine

[youreawizardharr]

Random Snippet (1)

Introducing the parents of my Cradlesona, Erza Chapman and Maryam Sommer.

This snippet shows a glimpse of Erza’s past, and how he met Maryam in the Land of Reason, rather than her falling into Cradle.

Tagging: @rairahimesama

Edit: I decided to rewrite this snippet 😅

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

Blanc stood off to the side, immersed in the gathering crowd, watching while Erza replaced the broken wheel of a carriage with a brand new one. The record keeper waited patiently as the nobleman dropped a pouch of lin into Erza's awaiting hands before approaching the young man after the noble left him to return to the carriage. "Hello, young Master. Mind if I interest you in a pint this evening?"

Erza stuffed the pouch of lin into his right pocket, turning to address Blanc with a kind smile. "Only if you're paying, old rabbit."

The two hung out at the pub later that evening, with Oliver joining them for a night of good fun and drinking. The inventor made a face, scolding Blanc. "Erza is under the age to drink, you ignorant rabbit. Has the carrots you've been eating gone straight to your head?" He reached over to snatch the cup of beer from Erza's hands. "You can have this once you turn twenty-one." A sly, teasing smile replaced the scowl on Oliver's face.

Erza didn't take Oliver's words to heart, flashing the other man a smile of his own. "What are you going to do about it, leprechaun?" Oliver's expression soured. If looks could kill, Erza knew he'd be dead. "Come on, Ollie, you know I didn't mean it in a negative light."

Oliver huffed, grumbling 'brats these days' underneath his breath, lifting his hand to bring the cup of whiskey up to his parched lips, only to realize it was gone. "Where did--"

Erza inclined his head back, laughing. "While you were busy glaring me to hell, Ollie, I managed to finish off your whiskey right under your nose. How did you not notice that?"

Blanc watched his two dearest friends bicker with eachother, taking leisure sips of booze.

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

Erza found Blanc in the Civic Center, carrying important documents in his parcel bag, delivering them for the two armies of Cradle to be filed by the record keeper. "Hey, old rabbit, I have papers for you to look over and file. I was tasked to specifically deliver them directly to you."

Blanc gestures towards his desk, returning to organizing records. "Would you be so kind as to place them over there for me, young Master?" Erza did as he was instructed, placing the two stacks on top of the desk. "Do you have more work for me to do, old rabbit?" Blanc stopped working to ponder his friend's question, moving elsewhere to search through a file cabinet, then supplied Erza with a list of jobs for him to do. The people of Cradle admires his diligence, referring to Erza as the Jack of all Trades.

"I need you to do a simple task for me, Master Erza." Blanc informed the young man, pushing his glasses along his nose. "Should you agree, meet me at the garden on top the Civic Center on the night of the full moon. I will explain, then."

Thirty days later

Erza met Blanc in the garden, approaching the older man. "I'd do anything for you, old friend." The bridge connecting their world and the Land of Reason illuminated beautifully. Blanc smiled, handing Erza his pocket watch. "Once you pass through the rabbit hole, you will not be able to return until the next full moon. Are you sure you want to go through with this, Master Erza?"

Grinning ear to ear, Erza tilted his head to the side slightly. "Will you ever drop the formality, Blanc? We're friends, you know. So stop calling me master. I'm no different from anyone else in Cradle." The White Rabbit nodded his agreement, opening his mouth to respond, "The item I need can only be found in the Land of Reason. Be sure to search for it throughout London. I'm more than certain a shop or two will have what I require. Remember, the hole will reopen on the night of the full moon. Have a safe journey, Erza."

The record keeper stepped around the twenty year old, pausing to address Erza once more. "Keep the existence of our world to yourself, and don't succumb to the forbidden magic."

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

Once Erza stepped onto the portal, it transported him to the Land of Reason. Standing in the middle of the park, he looked around the unfamiliar landscape, trying to find anyone who could help him find a place to rest for the night. The park is deserted.

No signs of life could be seen moving about.

After deciding to explore London, his curiosity led him to bumping into a young woman. "My apologies, miss." He held out a hand for her to take, surprised to see a woman this late at night. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going." The woman lifted her head, shock evident on her features.

When their eyes met, sparks flew.

Maryam covered her mouth with a gloved hand, composing herself. "It's quite all right, young lord. I'm the one who wasn't paying any attention." With a small smile, she placed her hand in his allowing Erza to help her onto her feet, holding her hand a little longer than is necessary. "My name is Erza Chapman." He finally introduced himself to the young woman as they continued to stare at each other, until....

"Maryam!" An elder masculine voice called out to the woman drawing her attention away. The two of them look up to see a man passed his prime waiting meters away.

"I have to go." Maryam met Erza's dejected gaze, smiling apologetically. After curtsying formally, she picked up her skirts to meet her father across the cobblestone street, her heels clacking soundly as she jogged her way over to her father, leaving Erza behind to ponder about who she really is and why she captured his heart in a vice grip.

┈     ┈     ┈     ⋞ ⟨ ⏣ ⟩ ⋟     ┈     ┈     ┈

"I could show you around London, if you'd like?" Maryam offered one afternoon, enjoying a cup of freshly brewed Earl Grey.

"I'd like that." Erza wasn't particularly fond of Earl Grey, but chose to take little sips as possible to avoid being rude. Social customs and whatnot. "I just moved to London, you see." It wasn't a total white lie. "I know nothing about this wondrous city, so if you can show me around, that would be great."

For the next several days, Maryam acted as a tour guide, showing Erza everything she could think of. The two eventually stopped at a cafe. "This place has the best scones and pastries year around. It's pricy, if you ask me, but I believe it's fair since they're made with the freshest of ingredients and served hot."

Erza loved the way her eyes lite up like stars, how her face brightened when she talked about the things she loved the most. "Maybe one day I can buy you a pastry from here." The words just left his mouth without much thought.

"You better keep that promise, Era." Maryam smiled sweetly, hope gleaming in her eyes.

Erza felt completely smitten, staring at her innocent smile. He composed himself afterwards, a blush spreading across his face. Before Erza knew it, he succumbed to the forbidden magic Blanc warned him not to be entrapped by. He knew Maryam is the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

The nights leading up to the full moon, Erza and Maryam made love in St James's Park under the cover of darkness. The item Blanc requested weeks ago was long forgotten during the heat of passion.

#ikemen revolution #my cradlesona #my writing #ikerev oc #blanc lapin #oliver knight #cradlesona #worked my ass off on this post 😥 #randomsnippets

[yuki-yozora]

Variables - fanfic ( Underswap Papyrus x Reader ) (Chapter One)

 : !!:  Author's notes ◌ °: !!:

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

Hello darlings! ‧ ₊ ° “

If you don't want read the note, please, roll this part.

As I mentioned in the prologue, it's my first time doing an underswap fic, so I'd like your opinion. ˚ ˚ *

I'm doing it the way I think it would be Au if it was complete as well as the fangame, but that doesn't mean I'm 100% following its original forms. ‧ ₊ ° “

That said, I will do my best to stay faithful and make writing interesting and fun. *

The cover image was edited by me, I know it's not the best, but I tried. ° ⸼ ⊹

If I get the link or names of those who created the images I will make available. °

Remembering that I have profiles in tree communities of Undertale in pt br, if you see an Vivinare, something ( skeleton, boned or skelly) with the same post, it's me, don't be scared. ˚ ˚ *

· · ✦ · · · · · · · 1 Notices · · · · · ✦ · · · · · · ·

Fic will follow many of its original creator's ideas with some interpretations and theories of mine. Here's the link about the creator: Popcorn (His profile no longer exists, he made another and left Au, she belongs to fandom, basically)

CENSOR:

Not for fragile hearts.

CONTAINS

(in general): violence, bullying, subliminal jokes, slight depression.

GENRE:

Adventure, Drama, Comedy, Thriller & Romance

˚ ˚ * In this fanfic ⁺ ˚. *

1 Chara is a boy;

2 Has original characters.

˚ ˚ * This chapter presents ⁺ ˚. *

1 slight violence;

2 Citation to depression;

3 drama.

Attention:

Big chapter ahead.

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎ ﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍ A year has passed… No news ... No trail ... not even false leads. (That fill us with hope just to take care of us.)

We.

I haven't used those words in so many days when referring to my life. Just one in the back, my brother was kidnapped. Chara was taken from me and taken where no one can find him. Your friends' parents shout accusations, as if I could hurt a single hair on your head:

"- It was certainly the oldest. After all, it's not the first death of the family. -"

Heh. People can be cruel.

We were four. He, the only boy and middle brother, only ten years old. The other oldest, Bianca, and the youngest, Daisy, were murdered by someone we trusted. Bianca's boyfriend, Elric, was on the Wizards Order. And to be accepted, the fire had to be fed with a precious commodity. He spent years fooling us into doing this… so that I could do that to him… That was two years ago. I tried to overcome my sadness, Elric was already under arrest, there was a Chara to be comforted. Gradually, our somewhat lonely new routine took shape. He made good friends who didn't judge him as many citizens: relatives of the children killed by the weirdo. Affectionate surname. We finally started to straighten up ... Until one day a couple broke into the house, terrified Doug, Chara's best friend, while frantically attacking me and the other taking my brother out of me in the blink of an eye. Despite my success in containing who attacked us, the other simply disappeared without a trace ...

It was like magic.

The search began in a human pursuit. All in vain. Police dropped the case in the fourth month, new ones were emerging. And there's no way to blame them for that (in a small, old town near the mountains, Ebottown had its high dose of violence.) The neighborhood avoided me as if infected with the plague and made a point of emphasizing how much I was despised. Escape, death. I thought of all this. But the spark of hope that he could come back kept me from leaving. And for that, I tolerate. All the antagonistic attitude of the neighborhood took me from my daily work. It just wasn't working, and my colleagues got angry every time my presence disturbed their eyes. To ensure basic survival, I accepted the night job offered by Luka, (The intimidating woman, the neighbor of the front house. Tall and powerful, with flawless black skin. Wearing her full hair or brightly colored turban, but there was always a vibrant purple, almost neon. His style of clothing was almost Gothic, spiders reminded me, for a strange reason.). The job was in a very elegant night bar serving colorful drinks and a space for parties or 'dances'. All the darkness and the bright alcohol made it difficult for people to recognize me, and anyone who dared to bother me was quickly arrested by the other bartenders or Luka, who was responsible for security. Strange to say that I felt more comfortable there than in my own home… loneliness ails me. Like now, a rainy day, with strong winds. Typical of the city. Interestingly on my day off. No strolling around, (Y/N).

* The rain outside is cold as your feelings and you know you don't deserve it.

A sigh and a roll of his eyes. I was annoyed myself. This whole situation, as if childhood turbulence was no longer enough, made the most frequent episodes of self-deprecation. Now it wasn't just my huge thighs or scars until I said enough. Or having tires in place of a perfect waist, or my abdomen getting easily swollen. No ... That's what I said, how I said it, how I breathed ... I probably needed help:

* But no one will come ...

I got. Luka was a good person, but I couldn't pour that much on her… I'm not worth it. With a flick of my tongue, I got up from the flowered carpet, centered in a bedroom entrance. I just went in there to clean, other than that, I watched the empty beds by the entrance, in silence. I closed the door carefully, looking back out of habit before going to the bathroom. A few gray floors peeled off the wall (cheap workmanship), the sink still full, but there were leaks in the pipe, the toilet was so bad it clogged up with the urine flush, the boxing was tiny, as if someone was trapping you in the closet while bathing you in cold water. Yes, the shower burned. At least I still have cute cabinets and a mirror….

Ah…

I looked into the mirror.

* After all, it's still you.

Long, curly hair, very messy and (h/c), with all the broken hair floating around (better known as fritz and he was too thin to be soft), reddish brown eyes (which weren't as red as Chara's) were probably the only things I liked about myself. Then we have my skin (s/c) very pale due to lack of sun exposure, random acne spreading, not in excess but bothering, deep dark circles, decorated with today's tear marks. A humorless laugh escaped my lips, his hand moving almost on its own, turning on the tap, rubbing the water over his face carefully. This is kind of dangerous, being alone with my sad thoughts.

" Finally. " I sighed, wiping my face on the nearest towel, hands then, as a painful smile crossed my face. " I have that." I tapped my side pocket of shorts where a deck of cards accompanied me everywhere.

It was like an extra part of me since Luka gave it to me, along with three other never-missing items: the black lipstick that Bianca wore when she came out with us, always in a pocket, the yellow ribbon of Daisy's hair on my head. her hair may look like a rattlesnake's nest, but she was always there.) and the weird book of basic flirtations that featured Chara as a pun and that he liked more than necessary (though small, no longer fit into pockets, so the his usual place next to my hip, between underwear and skin.)

I took advantage and wet my hair a little, as if he wasn't coming back to it later. Finishing up and getting some of the apparent melancholy from my face, I managed a hesitant smile at my reflection, but it returned to the cold look when something seemed to burst in the distance and the light went out. A blackout… when all I have to eat is frozen spaghetti and I'm out of gas.

So ... so ... perfect.

Worthy of a rainy day, which seemed to get stronger by the moment. Making a loud, unfamiliar sound, I emerged from the bathroom downstairs, using instincts to move without breaking anything. A kind of mind map danced in my mind, the matches in the cutlery and candles in the open closet seemed to light up like object-hunting games. I lit three candles that had already been used, then looked at the plate of food waiting to be warmed. Shaking my head gently, I put it in the fridge, even though it had no light to keep it intact, and pulled a jar of yogurt in place. This will be my dinner. Sitting at the round table with a prepared spoon, I began setting up the cards to play solitaire when I heard another noise. Much closer than the last. Slowly I took the cards from the table and stuffed them in my pocket, frowning.

A bang ... Coming from the room. Walking carefully, I approached, looking slowly out the door. My coffee table was split in half, the iron baseball bat stuck in the wood seemed to be the murder weapon. That stick was from Luka ...

More noise came from upstairs, my door still seemed to be closed. A kind of cold rose in my veins. This was strangely familiar. I looked around the room before going to the club and pulling it carefully.

* The Metal gave you a shiver of premonition.

I climbed the stairs, knowing exactly where to step so as not to make noise, but when I reached the top floor, I relaxed. The noise ceased. All doors remained closed, my room being the only exception. I peered through the door and, as I thought, he fled, as he had a year ago. The room was ruined, as if it had been a break-in party. The bed broke, the mattress was torn, as were my papers and the wardrobe on the floor, some scattered clothes, a strange substance staining the rug and writing on the wall: - You know where to find me. - My camping backpack, which I used during the research, and a book on the history of the city were in the center of the room. The open book, an image of Mount Ebott circulated there.

"... All right, all right. "

I grabbed the backpack and the book, going down and putting on my neon blue wellies before leaving. I looked at Luka's house and the staff in hand, then ran, just pushing open the door. I didn't have to walk much, she was in the middle of the room, which had several broken things. Concerned, I knelt beside her, almost panicked, but relieved when I saw her breathing. I used your phone to call the police, but decided not to wait. Finally, I have a clue. A chance to catch him. I needed to do this. I laid her on the couch and left a small note, leaving before I changed my mind.

* You are full of justice.

It was night when I started to cross the forest. The rain persisted above, making the cold run down my back. Sharp branches and thorns scraped my skin and ripped my clothes, but now I barely cared. I needed to continue. It wasn't long before I reached the clearing in front of the mountain, the place that started it all. Immaculate gray dust lay where the eternal fire lay. Not washed by rain, not carried by wind. Right there, waiting. I wiped something hot from my face and turned, the cock getting colder against my skin.

* You need to move on.

Gradually, I felt scratches burning, but I made sure they wouldn't be long enough to stop bleeding. As expected, climbing was not an easy task. The soaked, sloping ground was almost a waterfall of mud that made me slip and lose my balance as I stepped on the loose rocks. My hair, my legs, my clothes had mud on everything. I dropped to my knees as I reached one of the peaks, breathing hard as I looked into the dark cavern not far away. Lightning roused me from the trance I entered, so I started to get up, feeling someone watching me.

- It is not bad. -

With one hard blow, I tried to hit him behind me, a whistling noise was all I could get. My muscles tensed automatically with the evil laugh. " Not bad. " He sneered behind me again, his dark red cloak flapping violently in the wind, mocking his hands saluting me.

" What you want? " I growled. He started to laugh, part of his mouth visible, a large scar on the left side of his face, lips and chin. " Foolish child. You have no idea what you did when you attacked that wizard, do you? Knights are so ignorant. " He shook his head, like I was a lost cause. A gold stick with a ruby top appeared in his left hand. " So we agreed that you should be eradicated, like monsters. But you multiply like rabbits." His voice was thoughtful. " Anyway, it's trivial in our day ... But, how you attacked us ... A massacre is inevitable! " Another laugh followed.

* You have no idea what he is talking about, but decide to face him anyway.

" Does not matter. " I took a deep breath, making a decision. "I don't want to know your motives now." I watched the ruby light up with its magic. " Still ... You must be punished. "

With a speed I didn't know, I advanced and hit the club in his ribs, pushing it aside and giving him a breathlessness. A sigh of pain was all I heard before something moved away from him and fell to the muddy ground. I felt discomfort in my chest and arm, but got up without difficulty. Once again, I set off to attack, but dodging a red sphere he threw. It surprised me and the rodeo was not so successful, it scraped my arm and burned my skin. Others came and it was hard to get rid of them, the mud at my feet making me slip all the time. Adrenaline took over my body and I felt even faster, confident, almost enjoying fighting, the steady pace: side, side, spin, jump, run, roll, attack, lose. It wasn't long before I hit his face, an uncomfortable, muffled sound sounded around us, something that looked like a tooth flew away from him. He withdrew closer to the cave, making me follow him cautiously. That smile sent mixed emotions in my core. Suddenly, many spheres formed and advanced against me at high speed, barely leaving room for evasion. One of them hit me in the belly and the pain I felt was masked by the lack of mobility. No matter how much I moved, I couldn't leave the place.

" Finally. " He hardly seemed to have such a hoarse voice that he seemed. " You slippery trash. " He approached, holding his stomach, sweat mixed with rain, some blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. " Now. " He gripped my face tightly, the team being torn from me and thrown into some dark corner. " Come . " My body began to float, following it to the cave. " Com'on, not look at me like that. I'll tell you a secret. " He laughed. It wasn't too deep, there were flowers scattered all over the floor, all golden flowers, I think, a smaller hole in the ceiling where the rain fell and a larger, very dark hole in the floor. On the walls, several inlaid crystals gave the lighting a mystical feel. Suddenly I was hurled, slipping on the floor and ruining some flowers, stopping right at the edge of the hole. Barely able to move, I lifted my face to face him. I was completely defenseless. There was a macabre smile on his face, his now visible eyes glowing with blood red. "Your brother is just waiting." He whispered. " Go get him. -" And a kick threw me in my death. Soon, only darkness painted my world.

*It's the end.

· · · · · · · · · · · · · End notes

My english is very beginner, so i'm using the help of google translator. If anyone with available time can help me review, I appreciate it. (Y/N) - your name (h/c) - hair color (s/c) - skin color More legends will be added in the future! Word Count: About 2,880 If i use any images similar to the game can be found on the Gamejolt website. They do not belong to me.

#undertale #underswap #undertale au #reader #fanfic #neutral route #chara dreemurr #mages #magic #underswap x reader #swap papyrus x reader #swap papyrus

[letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked]

Words On My Skin (Part 13)

Bucky Barnes X Reader Soulmate AU

A/N: Without further ado, I present to you PART 13! WOOHOO! Also, happy 2200 followers to me! You're all the best! SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG! I had a great vacation! I’m at my bff’s house, now, and we’re gunna be writing all week, so part 14 will probably be done fairly quick!

Warnings: Feels, swears, and all that shit……… Mentions of sexual abuse as a child (googling ‘childhood traumatic memories’ and all that). I do talk about it a lot in the first half of the chapter, so if this is something you can’t - or don’t want to - read about… you’ve been warned.

Main Masterlist // WOMS Masterlist

Splashing some water on your face, you sighed in relief – the major feelings coming from Bucky through the bond starting to fade. You could still feel guilt, self-loathing, and hurt… but the feelings were starting to dull into an ache, versus a sharp pain.

As if he’d accepted the feelings.

That was almost worse than the heightened emotions.

“Friday?” You called out hoarsely, after drying your face, “Is Bucky out of his meeting, yet?”

“Yes, Ms. L/n.” The AI replied, “He is in the gym. Would you like to inform him you are seeking him out?”

“No thanks, FRIDAY.” You sighed, shoulders sagging. He must be beating his frustrations out on a punching bag, again. You could go see him in the gym… but it was kind of a little too public. You wanted to have a real talk with him, not something that should be talked about in the presence of other people. You didn’t want that, and you were pretty sure Bucky wouldn’t appreciate it. “Just… let me know when he’s in his room.”

“Of course, Ms. L/n.”

You leaned against the counter, staring at your reflection. Your face was blotchy from crying, nostrils raw from wiping your nose so much, and your eyes dull. God, you looked like absolute shit. You grabbed the towel off the rack, patting your face dry. You had taken a shower already, before Bucky had arrived back at the compound, but you felt dirty, again.

It’s your damn emotions. You just feel like shit, you don’t need another shower.

Ugh, maybe you should take a bath and relax.

Looking away from your reflection, you ripped open the cabinet under the sink, so you could procure your handy first aid kit. You needed to take care of your hand before it got infected, or something. Unzipping it, you looted around until you found the liquid bandage. You ran your injured hand under some water, cleaning the cut and the area around the wound. Luckily, it wasn’t that large, but it was going to be a bitch to try and hold closed while applying the liquid.

Somehow, you managed to apply it – wincing as the stupid liquid burned against your open wound. You held the skin together, waiting for it to dry.

Okay. What to do, now?

You could get some work done, clean your room, look at random Buzzfeed articles online, scroll through social media…

You should probably look up ‘traumatic childhood memories’, or something, and get to the bottom of your weird aversion to guns... and that weird dream… or memory… whatever the hell that was.

You had the time. Why not?

Because you probably wouldn't like what you found.

With a slow exhale, you poked at the adhesive to make sure it was dry. Once it was, you left all your belongings on the bathroom counter, making a mental note to have the handkerchief that Tony gave you dry cleaned, and exited the bathroom to flop onto your bed with your laptop.

Could one just Google ‘why did I see a memory of my father’s face after shooting a gun’?

Probably not.

You stared at the little Google sign, wondering what the hell to type in the search bar. Traumatic childhood memories? Random memories resurfacing as an adult? Were they even memories? What would be so bad that you’d forget seeing your father’s face and a bunch of blood? What was so awful that it took you years to even understand that something happened?

What happened?

You started with the first one, googling ‘traumatic childhood memories’. A bunch of random articles popped up, but most of them had to do with childhood sexual abuse and dissociation. One of the articles about sleep paralysis and childhood memories talked about how, when a child is sexually abused, they could dissociate and block out the memories in order to protect themselves from pain, but the memory still could affect them. The article talked about ‘recovering’ your memory of the original experience to help with the current problem…

But your current fucking problem was that you had the damn memory in the first place.

Plus, you were pretty sure that you were never in a situation that you could’ve been sexually abused… right?

You remembered going to the cabin… but… what about specific details? You remembered getting beers for your dad and his friends, you remembered fishing by the river, you remembered the trees… and… you remembered having fun? You remembered one summer when you got stung on the arm. There was a small memory about sitting under the stars by the campfire making s'mores while your father's friends told stories about ‘the good old days’…

What about the specific summer that the memory should’ve occurred?

What summer would that be?

What the fuck? Why were you blanking on this?

You shook your head, moving on to an article about ‘Signs You’re Repressing A Negative Childhood Memory’.

Well, get straight to the point, apparently.

“‘Specific places or situations freak you out.’” You read aloud, a frown forming on your face after.

Well… yeah.

You freak out over guns, and the sound of the gunshot triggered you into a damn episode.

‘It’s difficult for you to control your emotions’… Now, that one was a toss-up. You were actually able to control yourself pretty well, in your opinion. You really only snapped if there was reason to… right?

Oh god, now you’re second guessing everything.

‘Keeping a job has always been difficult’. Nope. You were quite good at keeping jobs, actually. Next.

‘You’ve always struggled with fears of abandonment’. You had your father to thank for that one. Emotional abandonment. Next.

‘Friends often say you’re ‘acting like a child’’. Nope.

‘You always feel anxious or emotionally exhausted.’ If they had your damn life, they’d under-freaking-stand.

You clicked off the article, looking for a more professional article to read. You should’ve done that in the first place, you moron.

Wasn't the internet supposed to be helpful?

Shoving your laptop off away from you, you hopped off your bed and over to your closet in search of a specific book. The stupid DSM-5. You only called it stupid, because you hated trying to find anything in the book. It was a good reference, though it was not something you’d ever actually use. You’d just bought it for a project when you were in college.

You threw it on your bed, diving back on and readjusting your position to get comfortable.

You could look up stuff about dissociating and go from there?

You flipped through the book, looking for ‘Dissociative Disorders’ for a bit of a reference about trauma and memories. Once you found the page, almost halfway through the giant book, you started reading.

Dissociative Amnesia? Seems promising.

As you read the passage, it started to sound somewhat like what you were going through. Localized Amnesia? ‘A failure to recall events during a circumscribed period of time… is the most common form of dissociative amnesia’. That sounded close to what was going on… but it still didn’t sound completely right.

Maybe look up PTSD?

You slid your computer back towards yourself, getting back on the Google search engine.

There were a few different articles about emotional trauma and memory loss, but you were starting to become frustrated with the topic.

Maybe you should just ask your parents?

Yeah. Right.

After today’s events, your mother was likely to never speak to you, again.

“Ms. L/n,” FRIDAY startled you from your thoughts, “Mr. Barnes is back in his quarters.”

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” You sighed, laying back against the bed and flipping the book closed with your foot. “This is going to be fun.” You muttered, staring at the white ceiling.

You tilted your head, straining to see the clock on your nightstand from your awkward position.

TWELVE THIRTY IN THE MORNING?! HOW IN THE WORLD?

Apparently, your search lasted longer than you thought.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you inhaled through your nose for five seconds – holding it for a moment.

Huffing an exhale, realizing that your breathing did nothing for your growing anxiety, you rolled yourself to the side to slide off the bed.

Okay. You can do this. You jumped up and down a few times, trying to hype yourself up, before padding to the door of your room. It’s just Bucky. Even if he was mad at you, he’s your soulmate. You can talk this out.

Your door clicked shut behind you, sealing your fate. You were doing this. You were going to knock on the door.

Before you could chicken out, you knocked quickly – anxiety starting to skyrocket.

Oh god. You couldn’t do this. What could you say to him?

The door was thrown open, before you could run away in fear, and Bucky was standing there – a confused frown on his face.

He must have just showered. The ends of his long hair were damp, he was dressed in a plain tee shirt with basketball shorts, and the smell of his body wash permeated the air around you.

“Y/n?” His eyebrows pulled together, eyeing you warily, “What are you doing awake?”

“Can we… talk?” You cleared your throat, crossing your arms over your chest nervously.

He nodded, opening his door wider and granting you entrance to his bedroom. “Come on in.”

As you walked in, you were immediately surrounded by the smell of him. It was warm in his bedroom, unlike yours. The walls were the same white as your room, but – unlike your own room – the walls were basically bare. Only a television decorated the wall, looking like it was collecting dust. His bed took up a lot of space – though, it didn’t look slept in. The black bedspread was perfectly made to army standards, not a wrinkle in sight. One side of his desk was littered with paperwork, some of which you’d sent over to him, and post-it notes filled with reminders. The other half contained various guns and knives, which he looked to be in the process of sharpening. You smirked when you saw a picture frame in the corner of the desk, containing the photo of the two of you at the sushi restaurant.

“This is my favorite picture.” You murmured, tilting the frame to see the photo better.

He remained silent, continuing to stand by the door. His arms were crossed over his tee-shirt clad chest – demeanor defensive, though you could feel the guilt through the bond. His face was neutral, even though you knew exactly what he was feeling. You wanted nothing more than to run up and hug him, but you knew that it was not the best idea – after what happened in the kitchen.

You sighed, moving to his bed and sitting on the corner, wrinkling the bedspread. “I’m so sorry about what my mother said to you.” You gulped, looking down at your bare feet and trying to think of the right thing to say. “I… It wasn’t… it wasn’t right what she said.”

He scoffed, prompting you to look up from the floor. His face was scrunched up in a confused grimace, “You don’t control what she says.”

You picked at your fingernail, staring at your exposed tattoo, “I should’ve defended you more. I should’ve-”

“Wait…” He took a step towards you, feet entering your peripheral vision, “Why are you the one apologizing to me?” You glanced up at him, biting your lip in confusion as he continued, “I should be the one apologizing to you. You warned me that she was… judgmental… and I still let her get to me.”

“So… You’re not mad at me?” You asked quietly, biting your lip and not meeting his eyes.

“Darlin’…” He sighed, moving forward once more, and crouching down in front of you, “You think I’m mad at you?”

“Well… you did… kind of snap at me… and gave me a big ‘fuck you’.”

“Y/n, sweetheart, I’m not mad at you.” His voice was soft, and his hand moved to your face, gently turning it so you were looking at him. His eyes had softened, eyebrows pulled together with a look of guilt. “That little ‘fuck you’ was at your mother, regrettably. I should’ve never snapped like that.” He sighed, closing his eyes, “I should’ve never left you in the kitchen like that… I should be the one apologizing to you, not the other way around.” He took your hand, noticing the freshly dressed gash on your palm and examining it. “I am so sorry, Y/n. I’m sorry for snapping at your mom, for being rude to you, and for leaving you to clean up that mess.” He glanced up, blue regretful eyes meeting yours, “I’m sorry for letting you believe I was upset with you. I was… I was upset with myself.”

“I’m still apologizing.” Your lips lifted in a sad smile, fingers entwining with his cold, vibranium ones. “I’m sorry for, after being an asshole and ignoring you all week, I let my mother say those awful things to you.”

“I’m used to shit like that, sweetheart.”

“Well, I want you to know…” You pulled your entwined fingers to your chest, pressing your chin against the cold of the vibranium, “I don’t think anything she said is true.”

“You don’t?” He asked quietly, blue eyes shining. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

“No.” You replied softly, with a small smile. “I never have, and I never will.” You reached forward with your free hand, gently laying it on his bearded cheek, “I remember when you first showed up in the news reels, after The Accords. I remember how hearing what happened to you made my heart hurt.” You gulped, tears filling your eyes and blurring your vision, “It still breaks my heart.”

He leaned his head into your hand, beard scratching against the palm of your hand. “It’s in the past, darlin’.”

“That doesn’t mean that you aren’t affected by it, every day.” You sniffed, tears sliding down your cheeks, “I hate that this happened to you. I hate that people don’t understand. I hate that people like my mother say and think awful things about you.” Your eyes closed, tears continuing to streak your hot face.

You were suddenly engulfed in warmth. He had stood, arms wrapping around you and burying your head in his chest. His face pressed against the crown of your head as he whispered, “Sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry.” You sniffled, wrapping your arms around his middle, breathing in his body wash and fabric softener, “I just… I don’t like that people don’t see you the way that I do.”

He stayed silent, running his hand along the top of your back, trying to comfort you. It should be the other way around, you idiot. You should be comforting him, you jackass. You pulled back, moving so your arms were wrapped around his neck, chin resting on his shoulder.

“Enough emotions for one day.” He finally responded, pulling back and standing up fully. “Scoot back on the bed.”

“Wh-what?” You raised an eyebrow, blush warming your tear-stained cheeks as you wiped the evidence away. “Why?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, sweetheart.” He snorted, moving to the desk and sheathing his knives with ease. “We’re watching the Netflix thing.”

“‘The Netflix thing’?” You snorted, scooting back so you were leaned up against the headboard, pillow behind your back. His bed was comfier than your bed. “I told you before, it’s just Netflix.”

“I knew that.” He grinned, grabbing the remote from the edge of the TV and moving to the bed, flopping down on it. “I just wanted to see that pretty smile.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, blush spreading to your neck. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“You’re in my bed, aren’t you?”

You scoffed, slapping him on the chest gently, “I thought you said you were a gentleman.”

He laughed, getting himself comfortable on the opposite side of the bed. He held the remote out to you, “Pick what you want.”

“Do you want scary, or do you want cooking shows?” You asked with a small grin, signing him in to his Netflix account, “Because we still have to watch season three of The Great British Bake Off… but I saw that The Conjuring is on Netflix.”

“What’s ‘The Conjuring’?”

“That answers that question.” You quickly flipped it on, scooting down so your head was leaned against his shoulder – as you usually where when you watched Netflix on the couch. Though, you’d never been on a bed together. The thought was… intimidating.

“Am I going to have to protect you from the imaginary demons?” He joked, moving his arm so you were tucked into his warm side, warmth seeping into your bones as you snuggled into the crook of his arm.

“I’m not that big of a baby.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as the Annabelle doll’s face flicked across the screen. “I’m a grown woman, you know.”

“Remember when we watched that other movie? You made me walk you back to your bedroom, and you clutched at me when it was dark.”

“Okaaaay.” You cut him off, slapping him on the chest with a small chuckle, “I’m a little bit of a baby. Just shut up and watch the movie.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Part 14

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[yourgeminiprince]

Graduation... Now What?

Before we begin, quick background:

I've been in post-secondary education for almost 8 years now. In the time I've completed 3 programs and about to complete my degree as my fourth. Now what? 

Let the thoughts begin:

In a short couple months, I will be graduating and not be going back to school, anymore. While formal education has been fun I want to begin the new chapter of my life. So I decided I've learned enough about the world through college and university. 

To be honest with you all I was super excited, over the top to be finally done with school! But now... It's almost here and I'm kind of freaking out! Okay line up a job, get the job, work, go on vacations with your vacay days, find someone you want to spend the rest of your life with, get married, have a couple kids, make sure you take care of them, get promotions, reach the top of the ladder and then... you know, do the life thing? I guess... 

See it seems so simple but my brain never likes to just shut up so instead of making it simple... Let's make it more complicated Dhan!

Questions my brain started making me ponder... 

Won't you want to make a decent income after going to school for so long? You have to maximize income. 

What if no one hires you?

What if you take a job and you hate it every single second of your being? 

Don't you have to make a new resume for every job you apply?

Cover letters? 

How many people are you competing with for that job?

Couldn't you have just been a doctor if you were going to be in school this long anyway?

Aren't you going to pick a job that you're passionate about?

I think you guys get the jiff of it... 

I love my brain, really do! Got me through a lot of educational programs but holy does it ever make me overthink every single aspect of my life. I'll be honest with you, I am a little scared of the future. I don't know what it holds, or where it leads. 

But...

Yes, I'm freaking the f*** out... but as much as my brain puts me into these situations of overanalyzing and thinking it also keeps making me think until I figure some of it out. At least I have to or I'm never going to sleep on time/properly. 

So since I've been freaking over this stuff for months, it's also been on my mind for months. Every day I come closer to a conclusion that'll solve my self-induced anxiety. So here are some of my solutions: 

Solutions: 

I have been in school for a long time, yes, but I have learned not just what my programs taught me... But I have also learned a lot about myself. Let's make it simple:

I have been part of teams and always try to lead. I got leadership skills! Hahaha! But no for real, I'm the type of person that'll take on a whole project myself if no one else wants to but I'll also delegate responsibility (Even knowing I'll probably be doing most of it myself... I remember my 40-page marketing research paper that only 1 person in our 5 man group submitted anything more than a copy paste from Wikipedia the night before it was due.) I wrote 39 pages of that 40-page report in a night... We got 70% which was like 40% of our grade... I'll never forget that night since then I've just always assumed I'm doing everything. As great of a leader as I am, I've also learned there are others that can lead to, and as much as you may want to be the one running things, sometimes it's okay to let them lead as well. There are responsible people out there and I have had a great group I could rely on. Everyone in this union study group was on top of their s*** to put it frankly. I wasn't leading it but did it feel good to be putting our entire project together with a group that wanted that end goal as bad as I did.

How is that a solution Dhan? wtf are you talking about? Let me explain...

Whatever a job may want they also what certain skills that would fit their company. I'm great with working with a team, I'm not saying that to toot my own horn... much... but when you're looking through jobs and they say 'needs to have leadership skills as you will be managing your own team and projects'. I got that. I would be a great addition to that company. 

Now yes, there's always more but this is how I calmed my brain down. I focused on what I've done and how I can apply that to the real world in these jobs.

Another quick example:

The first day of school, I'm talking to everyone. I have no issues with approaching random strangers and becoming friends by the end of our conversation. There are people that can never do that... I have undying confidence. I have social skills of a public speaker and the friendliness of a puppy. 

Now let me link these 2 examples together: Teamwork.

Huh? Dhan... what the frack are you talking about? 

You know how people say you should find a job you're passionate about? (The first question my brain brought up) I always had a hard time figuring what I was passionate about... I like a lot of stuff but not always one more than the other. I've worked real estate on the side and I love it because I get to meet new people every day and interact and learn about them. There was always a hint of something I felt like that was missing from it.

When I went to university I ended up being elected to a cabinet. I didn't know anyone and I was a little older than everyone around me so "OMG Brittney we're going to get so smashed tonight" wasn't really what kind of vibe I wanted to be around...  

Side note: When I say vibe I mean the kind of people I wanted to be surrounded with. I didn't feel like carrying Brittney and her friend home as they throw up everywhere. I was way over that phase. Back to the post:

When I joined this team of passionate individuals that were running around getting events done, filling in shifts for one another, solving issues. I got to be part of all of that and I loved it. I got to also be part of Senate and discuss and learn such important things. At the end of it all, we all came together to discuss what was happening and what everyone needed to know. We'd discuss important topics about what was happening in the school and voted on what to do next. Also made a lot of good friends in that way too, which I wouldn't have met if I never was on the committee with them. 

What I realized is, I want to be part of a team more than anything. My passion is tackling a project, or a committee and come out on top (I'm competitive as f*** xD). That rush of getting everything done before the deadline, coordinating parties to have everything supplied, reading 80 pages before heading into a committee in a few days and discussing/debating on one side. That was something I enjoyed and loved and didn't mind spending all day trying to figure things out. 

Now passion about a certain subject may not be foretold to my brain yet, but I know which direction to head. For me, that was enough to let me get sleep. I'm great at figuring s*** out after stressing about it for a bit. Problem-solving skills ;) haha!

For you:

You all have a lot of skills that you don't even realize or take for granted. When you're going to work for someone those are going to come more in handy than that essay you wrote for that history elective you took. If you know how to figure shit out on your own and not be a s***ty person you'll be miles ahead of a lot of people. You have to know you have walked into classes not knowing a single thing about it and passing well at the end of it. You can tackle anything loves! :) 

Now What?

Now, I'm applying for jobs, looking up resumé references for that certain field and adapting them to my own taste. I'm calling up places trying to figure out who to make the cover letter to instead of 'To whom it may concern'. But sometimes... no luck and end up using it cause I gotta move onto the next application. 

Starting to go to interviews and making it more of an 80/20 interview. I let them ask whatever questions they like and ask my own if it relates to their previous question or bombarding them with all of mine at the end. 

Now, I'm searching for a job that'll let me get that team aspect even if it's once in a while. That's what I want and just like through school, I hope I find that certain subject I'm passionate about. Until then, I'll be happy to go find a company and give 120% of Dhan-ness! I want to go in and work hard to open more doors for myself and also... start paying off those pesky student loans hahaha. But like I always say, to figure out who you are you have to experience as much as you can that peaks your interest. Even if it's volunteering or having to work for free from 6-10pm. 

Also instead of focusing on a million things that your mind keeps pondering, just make goals that you want to reach. It's hard for it to ponder when you're feeling good about reaching a goal :D!

Such as:

Pay off student loans

Get your bench press over 135 already (My chest has always been my weakest :$)

Try to move up a position in the company you work for every year or 2. 

Find love (She's out there right? :p) 

 Spend more time with the family 

Learn more tutting and more cheoro, in general, to add to your dance arsenal 

Train to run a half marathon

Write more (Hence this blog)

Read more

Finish up school (duh, but I just wanted to reach 10 already) 

So when I finish school, that's one goal reached. Makes me feel good! Next would be finding that job with the aspect of teamwork then having that to pay off the student loans. Getting the bench up is my personal goal and running cause I'm reading Born to Run: A Hidden Tribe, Superathletes and the greatest race the world has never seen By Christopher Mcdougall (NOT A SPONSOR OR AD! Just reading it!) and it's got me wanting to run and helping me reach that goal of training to run half a marathon. 

IN CONCLUSION:

My mind wonders... and ponders... More than I'd like but instead of letting it make me feel overwhelmed I'm just taking it one step at a time, reminding myself I know what I want and I have the skills all ready to take on any task that may come at me. The goals help tremendously with keeping my brain from pondering dooming questions cause it's like B**** WE WORKING TOWARD IT SO SHUT UP :)!  And I'm starting to get my sleep again on time... kinda... if I'm not binging Netflix at night... (Don't start a new show before bedtime... remember this advice!)

BYE :)