#it's a good discussion to have in craft circles and to be aware of

[shenyaanigans]

the journey of a writer is you begin writing just for the sake of writing and often hand wave details that aren't that important to you to get to the fun bits. then you decide you want to improve and you go through a rigorous process of thinking about lots of mechanics and abiding by sense and rationality, because the most damning insult to a piece of fiction is testing the reader's suspension of disbelief too much. this level of self criticism then colors the interpretation of other texts as well, where they are held to a particular standard where every detail must be perfectly logical, well researched, and contain no contradictions (cinema sins, if you will). nirvana is when you realize that doesn't matter and you go back to hand waving details that aren't that important to you.

#kat chats #i know i complained on my priv twitter abt smth like this but i just saw ANOTHER post of this caliber #i'm SO close to doing a deep dive on the suspension of disbelief and its merit as a method of literary criticism #spoiler alert i feel very strongly that if your criticism could be easily suspended through narrative buy in its not a valid critique #or at the very least the buck Does Not Stop at you not believing the author. you have to answer the question why #'it's not compelling because i'm not immersed' ok. why. what's broken the immersion #like. idk. sometimes there are interesting discussions to be had wrt narrative risk vs narrative payoff vs suspension of disbelief #and the fact of the matter is some narrative risk on the part of the author can lead to MUCH greater pay off #can lead to truly affecting art #and sometimes the narrative risk does not have a high enough reward to justify itself #sometimes this happens for only some people and other times this happens for large swathes of the population #shaping what literature we societally say is Good vs Bad #it's a good discussion to have in craft circles and to be aware of #but ultimately stories without narrative risk are almost meaningless. if they're even stories at all #and also sometimes your issue with suspension of disbelief comes down to pedantry #and forgive me but being a pedant does not make for good literary criticism #actually it makes you incredibly bad at it #you can't see the forest for the trees. you cant see the story for the extremely niche nitpicks that do nothing but buff your own ego #remind yourself that reading is not just a self indulgent exercise. you are entering a conversation where you have to listen for a long tim #and you must make meaning of all those words #you are not required to continue going through something that doesn't speak to you #anyways...

[lunarlianna]

Planets in the 3th house

In the following post we’ll discuss what each planet does in the 3th house and how can influence the way you relate to your neighbors’, you siblings and the way you communicate. 

Sun: With the Sun in the 3th house you are a bit of a social butterfly, you like to share your ideas with others. You may get easily bored, that’s because you have an active mind and need constant stimulation, usually you like to be very active. Be aware of too much gossiping.

Moon: With the Moon in the 3th house you may be prone in intellectualizing your feelings more than feeling them. You are very intuitive and you find it comforting to learn or study. You find it easy to verbalize your feelings. You can be a good energy healer.

Mercury: This planet is at home here and feels comfortable. You have a natural talent for writing and public speaking. You love to have healthy debates and learn new information. You may be quite tech savvy and enjoy finding out how things work.

Venus: You are pretty loved and popular in your circle; you can be a social media influencer. You are interested in drama, poetry and a desire for beautification. You are very charming and have a way with words that simply attracts other people to you.

Mars: You love to share your knowledge with others and are eager to do so. You can pick up easily many skills if you want to. You are pretty good at crafts and build with your own hands. You are very direct as a person, be careful since you can hurt people really bad sometimes, especially when angry.

Jupiter: You are quite lucky in picking up knowledge on the go, you are blessed with a very good memory and the ability to see the bigger picture no matter the situation. Usually, you are self-thought in many areas of work and life. Also traveling plays an important role in your development as a person.

Saturn: With Saturn here you may feel disconnected and estrange from your relatives. In the early childhood you felt like everything is moving to fast for you and usually this placement indicates learning in a slow and steady phase. You have the tendency to take everything a bit to serious and can be a bit to pessimistic.

Uranus: This placement indicates an unconventional way of thinking and sometimes even speaking. You may get bored easily because of this placement. You may have very strange interests and find it difficult to meet people with similar interests. You may need to slow down sometimes in order to don’t burnout.

Neptune: With Neptune here you are most probably very intuitive and you may receive messages from the spirit realm or simply you just know stuff without knowing from where. You also have a very rich imagination and have difficulties in focusing your attention. This is a good placement that indicates creative writing, painting, sculpting etc.

Pluto: You the one that needs to understand the world around him on a deep level, when you study something or learn a new skill you are either all in or all out, there is no in-betweens with you. You may have an interest in the occult, psychology or medicine. You usually tend to be extremely passionate in a few topics.

NN: You may be a very good writer or teacher but you need to focus your attention in developing this skill also you can pick up foreign languages very easy. With this placement you must understand the sometimes the devil is in the details.

Chiron: This placement can indicate a low self-esteem and probably in your early childhood you were criticized a lot. You may feel restricted in expressing yourself and have a fear of rejection from your immediate environment. You may have been a slow learner as well.

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Do not copy my posts or you will be sued for copyright infringement. All it takes is copying me a few times and it is considered illegal due to the copyright claim written at the bottom of my posts

Do not rewrite/copy my observations and post them to your Tiktok, Tumblr, Instagram

#all signs #astrology #astro placements #astro observations #astro community #for you #sun x moon #saturn #neptune #jupiter #mars signs #planets #hello venus #mercury placements

[ancientcraftnoccultism]

Beginner Class - Shadow Work 101

Ancient Craft & Occultism

Shadow Work 101

___

By KB

Introduction

Hello again, everyone! Welcome back to class ♡ Now that we've gone over in more detail about our personal energy - let's discuss something that is often forced upon beginner's, especially within New Age circles. You guessed it, shadow work. First and foremost, shadow work is not mandatory in order for you to be a practitioner or a witch. Let's take a closer look into this term.

What Is Shadow Work?

In essence, shadow work is a type of emotional therapy. Traumatic events in our lives inevitably leave us with emotional scars. As a result, we frequently try to repress these feelings since they make us feel uneasy, apprehensive, and panicked. Every time these emotions are provoked, we push them to the back of our minds as a type of emotional self-defense. The issue with this coping method is that by keeping our trauma hidden, we are not healing from it; instead, it simmers inside of us and will eventually appear physically. Numerous things, such as physical disease, worry, panic attacks, mental illnesses, and self-harm, might manifest this.

The term "shadow" was initially used by Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung to refer to those facets of our personalities that we actively choose to suppress and reject. We all have aspects of ourselves that we don't like for various reasons, or that we believe society won't like, so we push those aspects down into our unconscious psyches. Jung referred to this group of suppressed facets of our personality as our shadow self.

“The shadow is a moral problem that challenges the whole ego-personality, for no one can become conscious of the shadow without considerable moral effort. To become conscious of it involves recognizing the dark aspects of the personality as present and real. This act is the essential condition for any kind of self-knowledge.” - Carl Jung 1951

What Is The Shadow?

The shadow is made up of everything we reject about ourselves, including everything we consider to be bad, evil, or unacceptable. This dark side is everything that conflicts with our conscious attitude that we have decided about ourselves. The disowned self is the individual shadow. This shadow self stands in for the aspects of ourselves that we no longer identify as being our own, including our innate virtues.

These unexplored or rejected facets of our personalities remain. We try to cast them out by denying them, but we are unable to do so. They are a part of our unconscious that we suppress. Consider whatever we are not aware of as belonging to our unconscious. The shadow won't go away. It remains with us as our dark sibling. When we fail to recognize it, trouble results. For sure, it is standing just behind us at that point.

Every young child is aware of compassion, kindness, and love, but he also exhibits rage, egotism, and avarice. These feelings are a component of our common humanity. But something changes as we mature. The characteristics of "being good" are accepted, whilst the characteristics of "being bad" are disapproved of. All humans have fundamental necessities. These needs include those for physical well-being, security and safety, and belonging. These innate and biological demands must be met.

When we were kids, our surroundings gave us cues when we displayed certain aspects of ourselves. Perhaps we had a tantrum out of rage. After the incident, our parents chastised us and sent us to our room. Or perhaps in our first-grade classroom, we were brave, lively, impromptu, or silly. In front of the class, our teacher called us to task for acting impolitely and ordered us to sit down. Every time that happened—and it may have happened frequently—it put one of our fundamental requirements in danger. We learned to adapt to the outside world and changed our conduct to suit our needs. In the first 20 years of our lives, all of the aspects of us that have been rejected or discouraged are collected and hidden.

Can I Just Ignore My Shadow?

Sure, you can, but only at your own risk. I’m sure you’re familiar with the story of Dr. Jeckell & Mr. Hyde… not only that, it causes our perception of reality to be distorted. We recognize in others the qualities we reject in ourselves. Psychologists refer to this as projection. Everything we buried within us, we project onto others. It's a safe probability that you haven't acknowledged your own rudeness if, for instance, you become annoyed when someone is disrespectful to you. This does not imply that they are not being impolite to you. But you wouldn't mind someone else being rude as much if rudeness wasn't in your shadow self.

This procedure doesn't involve conscious thought. Our predictions are unknown to us. This defense mechanism is used by our egos to protect how they see themselves. We are prevented from engaging with our shadow by our false identities as "good" people. These psychological projections skew reality, separating how we perceive ourselves from how we act in the world.

Benefits of Shadow Work

Who appreciates being honest about their flaws, weaknesses, selfishness, nasty behavior, hatred, etc.? It is more pleasurable and affirming to concentrate on our strengths. However, exploring our shadow side offers us a ton of chances for improvement. Let's look at a few ways that this work can be useful to us.

Better Personal Relationships

You have a clearer understanding of yourself when you embrace your darker side and come to terms with it. You develop into a more solid, complete person. It is simpler to tolerate the shadow in people when you can accept your own darker sides. As a result, you won't be as easily triggered by other people's actions. You'll also find it simpler to interact with other people.

Clear Perception

You'll have a clearer lens through which to perceive the world if you accept everyone as they are, including yourself. You're becoming closer to your actual self as you integrate your shadow self, which helps you make a more accurate judgment of who you are. You won't think of yourself as being excessively large or little. You can more effectively gauge your environment when you are self-aware.

Better Health

It is exhausting to drag this unseen bag of things behind us. Repressing and suppressing all the aspects of ourselves that we don't want to confront as adults is tough effort. The unstudied life can be plagued with fatigue and sluggishness. Physical discomfort and disease can also result from mental suppression. With Jungian shadow work, you can unknowingly release a huge reserve of energy that you were using to defend yourself. Your physical, mental, and emotional well-being can all be enhanced by this. You can become more balanced and develop inner strength through shadow work, which will prepare you for life's obstacles.

Unleash Creativity

Jungian shadow work enhances your creative potential, which is one of its major advantages. According to psychologists like Abraham Maslow and Carl Rogers, creativity occurs spontaneously in those who are psychologically well (integrated).

Tips for Beginning

Shadow work can be very intimidating for a lot of us. We don't want to have to reopen old wounds in order to allow then to heal properly. However, there are some ways to make this process a bit easier.

Centering Yourself

Perhaps the most crucial action to take before beginning a shadow job is this. Yet, working with the shadow is seldom ever acknowledged in literature. You won't get useful results if you try to understand your shadow self while you're not grounded in your Self. The shadow stands for a collection of numerous elements that are concealed within your psyche. You can only learn about these areas by starting from your center. One of these components will take control of the process if it is "blended" with you. You'll be judgmental, harsh, or perplexed. Your capacity to integrate your shadow will be hampered by this. Be a peaceful, clear, and neutral area before you start working with your shadow.

Be Kind To Yourself

It is beneficial to develop an unconditional sense of friendship with oneself before getting to know your shadow. Its name in Buddhism is Maitri. To examine our darker aspects requires friendship and self-compassion, which can be challenging. It is challenging to face your shadow if you are harsh on yourself when you err. If you frequently experience guilt or shame, you must learn to transform these feelings into friendliness, self-acceptance, and self-compassion. Begin by acknowledging your own humanity. Keep in mind that we are all shadows in each other's soup, as Jung used to say.

Be Courageous & Honest

Shadow work requires integrity and self-honesty. It's simple to give lip service to these virtues, but real self-honesty requires being open to recognizing our negative traits in our actions and personalities. The ego spends a lot of energy suppressing your disowned portions since it is frequently uncomfortable to do so. It can be difficult to acknowledge and embrace your oppressive bad aspects and insecure selfishness. It takes bravery to examine your attitudes, behaviors, troubled ideas, and negative feelings.

Keep a Record

The desire of some of our disowned portions to remain hidden from view fascinates me. Our disowned portions can elude us, much like how a dream might vanish from memory right after you wake up. A cure is to keep a writing notebook where you can chronicle your self-discoveries. It is easier to encode the discovery into your awareness when you write down your insights and review them afterwards.

Beginning Shadow Work

Discover False Beliefs

We typically aren't aware that we are suppressing anything when we learn to hide some aspects of ourselves from others in order to please our parents, blend in with our friends, or perform well in school. We simply believe that we are being nice, useful humans. Then something sets us off.

Honor Your Feelings

Your emotions serve as a warning system for any subconsciously held resistance, myths, or emotional scars. It's critical to identify these emotions because, like to your automobile issue, subconscious problems may prevent spells from working. Never suppress your feelings or blame yourself for having them. That will simply deepen your emotional traumas and erroneous notions in your subconscious and make you feel worse.

Heal

Your pain can be healed now that you've found its source. Don't forget that the goal isn't to control your emotions. Your feelings are your subconscious trying to tell you something, and these messages are important! Changing your tale to something more positive can allow you to manage your reactions.

#elder witch #baby witch #witchblr #beginner witch #witchcraft #dark witchcraft #astrology #tarot #aesthetic #divination

[crisiscutie]

Regarding the Sephology 101 course, I would like to ask about a basic analysis into the psychological aspect of Sephiroth. As a Sephiroth admirer since I was kid, I really love to learn more about the mysterious man

-🌹

Content Warning: Discussions of child abuse and trauma. Long ramble below.

Welcome to Sephology 101. The course is now open!

We know from the canon that Sephiroth's psychological aspect has been painted by Shinra ever since he was born. His life was defined by TRAUMA. Before he was born, he was subjected to harrowing experiments, the first of his many traumas. That's already going to heavily influence his psychology and his well being. That is not even mentioning other genetic predispositions he inherited from his parents. Being taken away from his mother as a baby was undoubtedly a traumatic event as well, and its effects can be felt in his life, even though he can't remember it.

Shinra has crafted him into the perfect SOLDIER. Dutiful, obedient, strong, intelligent. I'm sure they only gave him the bare necessities and concentrated heavily on the art of warfare. And like I once said, he must've had an immense pressure to always be the best. He can't let up or appear weak, he kept up appearances. I've read an official fun fact that Sephiroth was a full time frontline fighter before he was TEN YEARS OLD. That is tragic and wild to me on so many levels. I always knew he was a child soldier, but I would've thought he spent most of his formative years preparing for the battlefield and occasionally visiting it.

Being a child soldier itself is just a mountain of trauma. He was taught to do and suffer through horrible things, but deep down, he was seeking validation without even being aware of it. Children's love for their caregivers is almost unconditional, particularly when they are very young. They will do what is taught to them, they will modify their behavior to accommodate the demands of the adults around them and they will have a strong faith in the adults to cherish and protect them... I'd imagine Sephiroth lost this unconditional love for Shinra as he grew up. Especially when he was given autonomy as a reward for his growing fame, like the ability to wear his own clothing, decline missions, discover his own hobbies, etc. These all gave him a sense of empowerment. With this, he will see more of what others had that he didn't. There's also the factor of how Shinra kept putting him into one traumatic situation into another... No matter how normalized abuse is, you will feel horrible about what is happening to you in some way or another, especially if it's by something or someone as your caregiver...

Another psychological aspect to focus on is that Sephiroth did not have a strong social circle. He had very few connections. The four known and strongest ones being Professor Gast, Angeal, Genesis and later Zack in Crisis Core, when the last two before him abandoned Sephiroth. I will say Sephiroth was attracted to these four not just because of the familiarity and comfort they bring to him, but also their nurturement. They encouraged Sephiroth to express and explore himself, and let him know that he wasn't alone. They were his anchors. Being around Sephiroth often was a requirement too, and the more time they spent together, the stronger their connection. This goes for those who Sephiroth despises, too. They stood out amongst the gray and muddied world in his mind to become a person of interest.

What astounded me the most about Sephiroth was his ability to remain composed and devoted despite his traumatic past. He was often distant to most people, but he showed a special kind of affection to his select few loved ones, and occasionally gave this attention to the men under his command. I think there was a deep and innate goodness within him, which was unfortunately destroyed when the truth about his background and who his 'mother' was was revealed.

I think Sephiroth's empathy doesn't get enough discussion. And yes, he is an empath, even Post-Nibelheim. Let me explain: I think his empathy is rooted in his time on the battlefield, where he had to be vigilant and pick up on the slightest changes in his environment and persons around him. Great fighters are great thinkers. Outside of the battlefield, he uses his empathy to pick up on the feelings of those around him and to express his compassion in the best way he knows how. Even before he was friends with Zack, he knew he had a special bond with Angeal, and he felt a pang of guilt whenever he asked Zack to take on his assignments. In Nibelheim, he picked up on the deep yearning of his men, particularly Cloud's, to see their loved ones again and he showed concern for Tifa when she wanted to go inside the reactor.

Post-Nibelheim, his empathy is more twisted. Thanks to his time in the Lifestream and his Jenova cells, he was able to tap into people's emotions to inflict emotional pain. In my opinion, I think the biggest showcase of this is when he read Tifa's mind and created an elaborate story of how Cloud was just a Jenova puppet created by Hojo. That's a rather impressive feat, and he was so close to breaking Cloud then... His silver tongue is as sharp as his sword.

Sephiroth's sadism is sophisticated, yet viciously merciless. He desires to break others down and to project his own traumas and weaknesses into them. I'm fairly certain he does not think himself as evil and rather, righteous in dispensing the pain the world has caused him and his "mother"...

Anyway, there is much more unpack about Sephiroth, but that's what Sephology 101 is for. Feel free to ask questions or send some contributions. The course is open now.

~ TA C.C

Also, I called it on 7R Rebirth not being at the Playstation Showcase.

#sephiroth #ff7 sephiroth #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #zack fair #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #c.c rambles #Sephology 101 #character analysis #character essay

[breelandwalker]

hi, bree! you know a lot about witchy history, so i’d love your input—what word would you call a group of people who get together to practice/discuss magic + spirituality, that DOESN’T imply a specific hierarchy or belief system?

Good news! There's definitely a word for that. You call it a "circle."

Think of it like a friend group. A circle of friends, a circle of witches. People you meet with to chat and share ideas and maybe even do some witchy things in a casual environment that does not require oaths of secrecy or uniformity of belief / practice.

Some witches still keep trying to call this a "coven," but it's really not. I know it might sound a bit nitpicky to say so, but the word "coven" has very specific connotations and some of the very vital particulars of covenship do not apply to the kind of gathering you describe.

For one thing, as you mentioned, a coven will have a uniformity of belief. It is understood that all the members of the coven will belong to the same tradition, or at least very similar ones. There are also vows involved, to the group and to each other. These will vary from coven to coven, but they generally involve keeping the group's secrets, not talking about the group's activities with outsiders, abiding by the rules set in place by coven leadership, and submitting to majority rule when decisions are raised. There is not always a clear hierarchy, but there may be roles assigned within the group with regard to leadership in rituals or individual responsibilities with regard to preparation, i.e. it's Person A's turn to lead the solstice ritual and Person B will prepare the altar candles.

And the main difference is that covens require initiation. With or without instruction or training, you have to be initiated into the group through some kind of formal ritual, and you have to be aware of what you're doing and consent to it. You don't just wander into a gathering and come out having accidentally joined a coven simply by being there. Circles don't require initiation, only an invitation.

(I feel like this is important to mention given that newer witches can easily be misled or manipulated into thinking they've joined a coven or that they're somehow beholden to the instructions of another witch simply because they attended an event or worked magic together, and that way lies a lot of problems. Someone tried to do it to me when I was starting out, but thankfully I knew enough to say, "No we're not a coven, I never took any vows.")

It's worth mentioning that covens, either as a group or as individuals, may participate in larger circles with solitary or independent practitioners or with other covens. I don't know how common it is, but I know it does happen.

Basically, any group of magical practitioners which gathers for craft-related purposes and does not require initiation or oaths in order to attend could be called a circle. It's not a coven unless those extra steps are taken with the knowledge and consent of everyone present. Even if you celebrate holidays together, even if you work magic together, even if you have full-scale group rituals, it's not a coven.

Hope this helps! 😊

#shoujoglitter #witchblr #witchcraft #pagan #witch tips #Advice for Beginner Witches #Bree answers your inquiries

[hollers-and-holmes]

Idea that has been cooking in my brain:

✨✨Tumblr writing feedback cooperative✨✨

Okay, I haven’t been around here long and doubtless something like this already exists or has been attempted.

BUT

Here in my general circle of mutuals and extended mutuality there are many talented writers, and many of you are seriously devoted to honing your craft. The Inklings Challenge seems to have a bit of fragrance in this vein, but I’m curious if there would be any interest in something a bit more vigorously workshop-like.

I was thinking about the best way to ensure there was a good work-to-feedback ratio, and have been ruminating on the idea of a sort of “pay-in” model… like, if you leave concrit on one posted work, you may also post a work for review, etc. That way anyone who wants to receive feedback is also contributing to offering feedback on other people’s work.

I’ve also thought about how one might go about posting anonymous works if the author would feel more confident offering their writing for critique without the readers knowing who wrote it. Maybe a Tumblr blog unique to the project, with a moderator who receives works via email and posts to the blog for reading availability and feedback according to author’s preference.

I’ve seen a few good “reviewing templates” floating around and that also has caused me to think about the art of learning to offer good constructive criticism, how this improves your own writing craft, and can also help you learn to give helpful feedback without, you know, being saccharine and insincere on the one hand, or crushing all the poor writer’s dearest hopes and dreams on the other. I sometimes get the feeling (in fandom at least) there has been a decline in reader engagement because some people feel inadequate to the task of writing a review the author will find edifying.

I’m also aware that anything like this requires time and effort, and not everyone has the wherewithal to dive into something like this. In no way would I want it to become a source of guilt or pressure for participants. There wouldn’t be any sort of “membership” or long-term commitment. Basically hey, have a piece you’d like some feedback on? Read and supply feedback on a piece of similar length, and then your piece can be posted for review as well!

Anyway. Discuss, if you like, and improve on this idea if you find it at all engaging. I’d like to hear everyone’s thoughts.

#tag to find for later

[bardchoices]

@lordgortrash sent a sending stone: ‘  you  owe  me  a  dance.  ’

the highest echelon of baldur’s gate gathers in an opulent ballroom, an entire rainbow of colors and array of fabrics flowing and swirling as a band of bards fills the space with music. the attendees supply the merriment — throngs of them laughing and gabbing or spinning in time with the song at hand, having the time of their lives. from the outside, it seems so decadent, so desirable. someone who didn’t know any better would be stewing with jealousy over not receiving an invitation to what would undoubtedly become an event talked about for years to come.

but liana bashar, sharp as a blade, knows better. in a culmination of experience wrought over the last several years and tested in the last few weeks, she notices every little detail that the quiet observer would brush over. the conversations she catches as she moves through pockets in the crowd are almost mechanical in their cadence and repetition. countless praise for the newly anointed archduke, little else to remark on outside of the good he’s done for the city and the modern age he’ll usher baldur’s gate into, with open arms. she expected as much — there’s no way every patriar in the city willingly relinquished the power they held to open that door further for one enver gortash. not without there being one helluva catch, and she was cursed to know too much.

the how was a simple puzzle, one that took her but moments to piece together when she first arrived in the city with the rest of her group. hindsight is a funny thing. she recalls the first poster of lord enver gortash she laid eyes on in wyrm’s crossing, how her head went light and fuzzy, how her stomach lurched and her knees almost buckled under her. how years of honing her craft made it easy to blame on the long walk in from the shadowlands, how she just needed some bread and she’d be right as rain. it bought her the time she needed to figure out how she would tell her fellow adventurers — her friends — her family — that one of the people they needed to contend with as they unraveled this absolute plot was several chapters of her past that never had a full conclusion.

looking past the details — namely, the tadpoles that are keeping the masses inside these walls obedient — it’s almost admirable to see. the past few days have been a tightrope walk down memory lane and of all the schemes he would give her small details and hints on, there was one in particular that he had always circled back to. his time in the hells had given him an awareness of the realms around him and the treasures and tools that were hidden just beyond — knowledge that many would kill for, laying comfortably in his skull, waiting to be capitalized on. she remembered the mention of a crown and little else around it. she’d press for details and he’d chastise her, playfully so, for trying to ruin the surprise. all in due time, my dear — you’ll see it firsthand.

he wasn’t wrong. it just wasn’t what either of them could have imagined at the time.

the song swells to a close as her eyes meet his from across the way and she considers turning around and making her exit. she’s fulfilled her responsibilities for the evening — show up, alone. report to lord gortash’s office post-haste to discuss the progress of culling the cult of bhaal and securing orin’s netherstone. stick around for three songs to say you attended the party of the century. get back to the place you feel safest — surrounded by those who have experienced every twist and turn of this winding journey. yet her feet remain rooted on the spot.

it’s that diabolical mistress, nostalgia. because if she closes her eyes as he approaches, she’d see him as he was so long ago — still handsome, roguishly so, with ambition as high as the ocean was wide. things were simpler back then. no tadpoles. no absolute. no rebelling elder brain. she yearns for it, against her best judgment, against every instinct telling her that she should turn heel now and never look back. their story might not be over, but that chapter has long been concluded. they can’t go back to what they were before. too much is at stake now, and they stand on opposite sides of the chessboard. they both know it.

and yet, they both seek to indulge. just for a moment, a minute, a night — just enough to sate the overwhelming ache in both their hearts that should have died out long ago. he almost looms over her as he reaches her, and her posture remains tall, unwavering, as honeyed brown eyes peer up at him through the embellished pattern of her mask. the next song starts up as he talks of liana owing him and she has half a mind to laugh, loudly, and the gall he possesses. but she doesn’t. she doesn’t jump to accept, either.

there are countless attendees falling over themselves — men, women and everyone in-between — to get a chance to sway with the newly coronated archduke, yet his eyes only seek you. it should entice you — excite you, even — to be the center of attention, to have every eye in this room locked on you, to have every heart full of envy and wanting what you have. so why do you resist?

‘ I’m not inclined to believe you’d be satisfied with just one — and I wouldn’t want to deprive your audience of your attention. ’ she’s nothing if not a smooth talker, words soft as silk and a teasing smile pulling at her lips that doesn’t reach her eyes. no, those carry another emotion entirely. one might expect a sharpness in her gaze. instead, they’d find a sadness that weighs heavy in her bones, sinking her. as she settles in it, that feeling creeps up again — head going light, knees almost buckling. she takes a step back, then another.

‘ forgive me — I need some air. ’

#lordgortrash #ANSWERED. #IN CHARACTER. #oops my hand slipped

[aparticularbandit]

Finding Family: Part One: Chapter Four

Summary: When America begins universe-hopping again to try and find her moms, she realizes that’s too much scope for her.  She looks for smaller scope, and instead she finds Wanda.

Warnings: Spoilers for DSMoM.

AO3

Wanda wakes on the couch with the weight of the child potentially coming back sat right in the center of her chest like a Maine Coon cat who decides now is the appropriate time to show her its butthole.

Not that Wanda has ever had a cat.  Or any pet, really, other than Sparky, and he belonged more to the boys than he had to her, and even then, he hadn’t lived long enough for her to get as attached to him as she had, well.  The boys were attached to him.  She’d used that to teach them hard truths – such as the impossibility of bringing people back to life, while the irony of Vision was right there.

That’s beside the point.  The full weight of a Maine Coon sat on her chest would keep her from moving, if it was really there, if it really didn’t want her to move, but there isn’t a real cat on her chest, just the sensation of one in the center of it, not holding her in place but propelling her to move.

It isn’t as though Wanda needs to make her cabin presentable.  The child was scared enough just by the possibility of her coming out that she’d fled.  Wanda just needs to make herself presentable, needs to return to the image of something intimidating and terrifying enough that, if America decides to come back (and she will, eventually, if she’d made it to the front porch on her first visit – and there were no other visits, she would have felt it if there were), she will choose never to come back.

She created the illusion to keep people away.

She just wants to be left alone.

 America isn’t able to rest.  Her breath catches in her throat, the panic too strong for her to be able to fully settle, and when it dissipates, she does feel exhausted, but too wary to be able to truly rest.  She stumbles from her room after pushing the drool from her mouth, stumbles to breakfast, stumbles to training where she stands glossy-eyed, trying to craft the same golden circle that she’d used only hours before to go to yet another location on the vast planet they called Earth.  She’s not entirely aware as she makes her circles, as she moves through the motions again and again, and they sputter and static and shiver.

Wong looks at her dozing on her feet and sends her to her room.  She goes readily and is out like a light as soon as she lands on her mattress.

 The stars awaken America hours later, and she sits up, rubbing her eyes with the back of one fist.  She’s too tired to try and sleep now, and she’s too hungry, too.  It isn’t like she’d intended to skip meals.  If she gets up now, she could go to Kamar-Taj’s excuse for a kitchen and snatch some snacks, but there’s always the chance she could run into Wong.  He’s nice enough.  She likes him well enough.  But she doesn’t want to have a discussion about why, exactly, she’s been so exhausted and what, exactly, she might have been doing to make her doze in the middle of making her morning circles.  She could make an excuse about being a growing girl and not getting enough sleep, and he might accept that, but there could be a lot of other unfortunate consequences to that, and she doesn’t want to deal with them.

No, better to, you know, punch a hole into a universe that has better, easily accessible, free food than to take a chance on running into Wong.

 When America returns to Earth-616, it is with a bowl full of sushi-flavored ice cream covered with flakes of seaweed and a backpack full of other tasty goodies.  No pizza balls, though.  That universe requires money, and she doesn’t want to take a chance on that sort of thing. One of the ones she’d just landed in had allowed her to bargain, which is how she’d gotten this nifty backpack just by giving them a good magic show – if there is a Stephen Strange in their universe, he isn’t a sorcerer. Most people don’t seem to know about them, and given how flashy Stephen could be, there was a good chance he hadn’t made it that far.  Or decided to do something appropriately selfish with his magic.  She couldn’t say; she hadn’t tried to run into any of them in that other universe.

Well.  No. That’s a lie.

On finding that she could make the nifty golden teleportation spiral in that universe just as easily as the one she’d recently called her own, America had tested her own focus and gone directly to the place she’d been the night before – the log cabin in the middle of the tortured wood.  Neither existed in that universe, so she’d decided to find her wherever it was she was.

She had food.  She had a bright rainbow unicorn backpack full of more food.  She could afford to sit and see what the witch was like in this universe.

It took a little longer than America wanted to find her – two bars of corn flakes covered in frosting with some sort of savory strawberry paste in the middle, which were far better than they sounded – but she had, somewhere in the middle of a suburb claiming to be called Westview.  She wondered if that was where the other one had been, the one with the children – in that universe’s version of Westview – but she couldn’t be sure without trying to go back there again, and she felt they’d dealt enough with that universe.  (And she didn’t want to know what that version of the witch would do to her if she caught her.)

This one, at least, shouldn’t know her and shouldn’t have been possessed by the dreamwalking witch of Earth-616 and shouldn’t know who America was if she happened to see her in the first place.

So America found her, sat on one of the wooden benches in Westview’s recently remodeled gazebo, and….

She wasn’t a creepy stalker – she isn’t a creepy stalker! – and she wasn’t creepily stalking the witch of this world or her children, but she might have been creepily keeping an eye on them if said woman hadn’t noticed she was sitting there, if said woman’s eyes hadn’t widened the slightest bit when she caught sight of her, and if said woman hadn’t, then, immediately crouched down, said something that America couldn’t hear to her two boys, and sent them away before walking straight toward her.  (One of the boys took the other’s hand, and they sped away in a blur.  She hadn’t know they could do that.  Somehow, she isn’t really surprised.)

America shoved the rest of her salt-covered chocolate charcoal biscuit into her mouth – spluttered, because it was just as good as it sounds – and stood to her feet, ready to punch a hole back into the nearest safe universe she knew of, settling her backpack over one arm by one of its bright pink and yellow straps.  She hesitated, however, when the woman spoke:

“Wait.”

Now.

There were a handful of very limited things that America knew about the Scarlet Witch, and most of them were about Earth-616’s witch, who, admittedly, was entirely different from the witch of every other universe in the multiverse (at least, as far as she knew.  It was quite possible that there was a Scarlet Witch on another universe who also would love to get her hands on America and steal her multiverse-hopping powers and simply couldn’t figure out how to do so.  She couldn’t be sure).  The only glimpses she’d gotten of the other one – once she wasn’t being possessed by the one from Earth-616 – had been of someone quite like this, who was happy to just be spending time with her boys and, admittedly, seemed to have not gone to a hospital after everything that had happened…who had enough clout with the other superheroes in her universe that, after everything, she was still allowed to go back to her boys and stay with them.

Or maybe they were just as scared of her as they should have been of the one who had visited them.  But then, wouldn’t they have taken her threat seriously? No, that one couldn’t have been nearly as dangerous – or could have, in the right circumstances.

So could this one.

But America swallowed down the last of her biscuit, half-choked on its disgusting taste, and turned back to her.  The woman had her hands out in front of her in an almost defensive position, the sort adults liked to use when they wanted her to know that they didn’t mean her any harm. She hesitated.  There wasn’t a portal open yet.  She wasn’t sure if that power was flickering in her eyes like she could feel it did when she punched the holes, but it might be.  If it was, then this would be weird.

America shifted the backpack strap over her shoulder and levelled her head, meeting the witch’s bright green eyes, trying not to shiver.  It wasn’t like this one had tried to kill her or absorb her power or anything like that.  “What do you want?”

“I saw you,” the witch said, not looking away from her, “in my dreams this past week.  I saw you, and now you’re here, and that’s not an indicator of something good.”

She didn’t say it, but America could hear it, as though another version of her in some other universe might have said it to her and it was only this version that was choosing not to: And I’m tired of bad things happening to me.

If the Scarlet Witch had gotten her way, then America was certain she would be cutting off the possible bad thing before it had the moment to strike. That must be what this version was doing now, although in a much less aggressive or painful manner.

America pressed her lips together.  “I’m not going to hurt anyone.  I was just eating my—”  She glanced down at the empty wrapper.  It was too wrinkled to read the words.  “—you know.”  She tried to grin.  “It’s weird to tell a strange kid they were in your dreams, you know.”

That didn’t seem to reassure the witch.  “I think you and I should have a talk.”  Her voice sounded tired, but not like the normal sort of weary a mother might feel from her children.  Something else.

“About those dreams you’ve been having?”

The witch sighed.  She pushed a hand through her hair – it was darker here, not brunette like the other mom and not as red as the Scarlet Witch, but somewhere in-between.  “If you would amuse me.”

America didn’t want to amuse her.  She wanted to leave.  But she was also curious.  “I’ll answer your questions, if you’ll answer mine.”  She hesitated.  “And get me whatever the best drink around here is, because I’ve tried some and they’ve been horrible.”

The witch smiled at that.  “If you’re not from around here, Westview has some interesting tastes.”  She stepped into the gazebo but didn’t hold her hand out the way people in other universes might when they first meet someone, instead lowering them to her sides, no longer needing the defensive gesture.  “Who are you?”

“America Chavez,” America replied, “of Earth-616.”  More information than the witch had asked for, and probably more than she needed, but it felt right to say it, felt like wrapping a warm blanket around herself in the middle of a horror movie, one she could use to cover her eyes if things got too intense.  Then her expression grew embarrassed.  “I’ve never really gotten your name, though.”  She’d heard Stephen use it plenty of times, but it had never stuck the way the Scarlet Witch had.

Maybe because once you give something a name, instead of a title, it becomes more relatable, more personable.  America had needed to view her as the enemy.  Giving her a name – knowing her name – would have made that harder.  At least for her.

“So you know me,” the witch said, and there was no question in that requiring America’s affirmative answer.  She nodded to herself.  That had to keep in line with her dreams, with what she has seen of other universes.  When she acknowledged America again, it was with a hint of dissatisfaction and a voice softened with understanding.  “But you don’t really know me.”

This time, America nodded, even as she said, “No.”  It didn’t feel like a contradiction.  It felt like exactly what the witch was saying.

The witch took a deep breath.  “I don’t know who I am on Earth-616, but here, I’m Wanda Harkness.  I really hope it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

America shuddered to think what might happen if it wasn’t.

#bandit fic #finding family with wanda and america #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #america chavez #queue #mcu

[watevermelon]

Tease | Venti (Genshin) x Reader (NSFW)

✧ Summary: Venti wielded his appearance like weapon, pouting his bright puppy-like eyes at you whether on the battlefield or the bedroom. There was something about the Archon that moved you to play along, at least not until tonight.

➳ Tags: some semi-public teasing and eventually fluffy sexytimes; Venti is a teasing lil shit; LOTS of humor and most of the Mondstadt characters show up ➳ Navigation

—xXxXxXxXxXxXx— One of the lessons you learned very quickly in your relationship with the Anemo Archon was that Venti was a teasing lil shit. 

Venti loved you — there was no doubt. But his mischievous side popped up in almost every avenue of your time together. When fighting hilichurls or hunting down abyss mages, all it took was a bat of his eyelashes and you were ready to wield a sword on his behalf.

He played on his appearance heavily — puppy dog eyes gazing up at you no matter what the conversation was about. It was easy to look at him and think he was a humble bard who enjoyed a glass of fine wine. Instead of the thousands of year old God who had the power of wind at his mercy.

All it took was a couple smiles and nicely placed laughter and Venti knew he had you under his spell.

And you were even aware of it, the asshole.

Presently, the original Dvalin team had gathered together in Mondstadt. Diluc was hosting again, the bar open even though he grumbled multiple times. Plates of food were displayed on the main table as Barbara and Mona perused the feast, Paimon right alongside them. You were altogether celebrating a time of true peace, one that Jean had called after both Venti and Dvalin were finally long freed by your hands.

Even though your relationship was relatively new, it did not stop the weight of the promises you made to one another. Venti was well aware of your pursuit in finding your brother and you knew that there was nothing that could tie down the God of Freedom.

But that did not stop either of you from falling in love.

Venti took you on private dates where you glided high above the skies — the last time you ever flew this high was alongside your sibling. Your reminisced over solemn moments, Aether simply a memory as you poured out to Venti your past. He would pull you close as you recalled, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck as he comforted you. And you gladly did the same, pulling Venti into a tight hug as he spoke about his time simply with the wind.

Your favorite moments were the quiet ones - like when Venti pulled you into your first kiss as a couple, smiling at you widely as you returned for more and more.

You cherished these moments when you were traveling, only Paimon at your side. Venti would join you sometimes as you explored the Liyue mountain ranges, but his responsibilities lay in Mondstadt. No matter how far you traveled, you made it work by returning back home to the Anemo Archon.

And now you were enjoying the night, sitting at one of the back corner tables as your friends mingled around the bar. You were sitting closer to the wall, Venti at your side while your favorite Outrider sat across from you.

Amber was discussing some of the adventures in the city, something that included slimes but was suddenly evading your memory when you felt a warm hand on your thigh.

You shot a quick, curious look in Venti’s direction, but the Archon was still focused on Amber in front of you. Not for the first time, you cursed your everyday attire, lots of skin on display despite being on the battlefield every day.

This was something Venti took plenty of advantage of.

His hand slid higher up your thigh and you swore that his happy expression only grew. Amber was none the wiser, continuing in her story as Venti’s hand ghosted over the fabric of your underwear. Your gaze flew to the rest of the party, plenty of other eyes that could catch you in the act.

But it seemed Venti could not care less.

His touch only grew bolder, index and middle finger rubbing against your clothed sex. You fought the urge to move into the motion, trying to focus back on the conversation and the woman in front of you.

But Venti knew your mind was anywhere, but here.

And so of course he had to tease you. 

“Don’t you agree that they should continue research by the temple in spite of the ruin guard?” Venti asked, mischievous eyes turning toward you and dragging you back into the conversation.

“Yes.” You answered back clipped.

“Really?” Amber questioned, genuinely curious.

“With the proper knights and if their envoy is careful enough…” You continued, but just as you paused Venti pulled the cloth fully aside to rub at your core. It took all your willpower not to stiffen under Amber’s direct attention, but you stuttered to complete your thought.

“Then…?” The Outrider continued for you.

You shut your eyes to remember, attempting to drown out the mischievous God alongside you. But it seemed you could almost hear the smirk Venti was shooting you. 

He had wasted no time in intimately joining with you the night prior, when you had officially returned back to Mondstadt. Almost every surface of his humble apartment was paired with a memory. And even then, it seems Venti could not get enough of you.

“Then they should be able to safely conduct their necessary research.” You finally finished your thought.

“Maybe you should join them next time.” Venti proposed as his fingers continued to play with your clit.

You couldn’t even deny the effects that he had on you — your essence starting to leak out in response to his touches. That was one of the things he loved about you — how eager you were for him in kind. Very rarely did you ever push him away and, if he pushed the right buttons, you would rise to his challenge later that night.

“Oh, you should! Nothing like the protection from our favorite honorary knight.” Amber replied with a genuine smile.

“It’d be my pleasure.” You responded, reaching for your glass to drown out your expression with wine. 

“Your pleasure indeed.” Venti murmured under his breath, loud enough only for you to hear.

Amber was called by one of the other Knight’s and she turned in her seat to face him. Her back was facing you now and you let you out a quiet, but incredibly long sigh. Venti’s expression could be compared to a lighthearted smile, but you knew that a smirk was underneath that forcibly innocent aura.

His fingers rubbed circles against your clit — his skin a wildfire against yours as you wet the seat beneath you. Venti shoved in his middle and index with little warning, pistoning them while the other partygoers lay innocent to his dirty deed. 

 “My love, if you continue to make that face then surely everyone here will know.” Venti murmured this against the skin of your ear for a second, before straightening back in his seat.

You tried your best to hide your impassioned look, but it was hard to do so when your lover was working directly against you. You felt this thumb rolling harshly on your clit while his fingers thrust in quickly. Trying deep breaths to hide your moans, Venti leaned down to kiss you on the lips proper.

You followed the motion immediately, chin lifting as you savored the feel of his lips against yours. The crease of your lips parted for him, Venti immediately licking at your wet cavern. He knew you completely and this included how to throw you right over the edge.

One of your hands grabbed at his arm and just as you were about to feel that sweet release, Venti pulled away entirely and sat back in his seat.

“Alright, lovebirds. No need to gloat your kissy face in front of the rest of us single people.” Amber’s voice cut through your thoughts and you blushed at her words.

“Hehe.” Venti giggled aloud, his laugh while usually endearing, was nothing but mocking toward you.

At least Amber did not catch more than kissing.

But just as you were relieved to have not been caught, you were annoyed that Venti had just teased you right to your breaking point. You turned to the Archon, but he was already looking at you.

Expecting a teasing smirk in place, you were pleasantly surprised to see the loving gaze he was throwing you. Venti instead grabbed your hand, lifting it to his lips and kissing the top as he maintained eye contact with you. 

It was hardly scandalous, but Amber still exclaimed. “Oh my god — just get married already!”

Venti laughed, but did not let go of your hand. At this point, while you were glad to see everyone again, you had one thing on your mind and it had much to do with what was leaking out of your sopping wet pussy.

But Venti was intent on celebrating tonight, drinking plenty of wine and shooting you looks over the rim of his glass. Different faces stopped at your table, Barbara exclaiming her greetings and Jean formally addressing the both of you. Kaeya flirted with you while Venti sat right alongside you, but hardly batted an eyelash when he was waved away by the Archon.

The hand holding yours squeezed once the Cryo user walked away. Venti leaned into you, kissing you on the nose before murmuring. “You’re mine; don’t forget that.”

You narrowed your eyes in response and gritted out in frustration, “Then why don’t you fill me up proper so I remember?”

“Hehe.” Venti chuckled before moving to whisper by your ear, “Don’t tell me you're still dripping wet with all these people around us?”

“You’re such a lil shit.”

“To think you’re so naughty.” Venti continued, crafting a sensual word picture through his words. The Bard too often used his powers against you. “Surrounded by all our friends and your main concern is the feel of my cock as I split you wide open.”

He was so smooth with his words, the same lips that poured out endearments was just as likely to light your nerves aflame.

“Tell me how hard you need me inside you.” Venti demanded, “Would my little minx prefer it if I painted your walls white tonight? Or are you so desperate for me that I should take you right here?”

“Venti—“

“Ah, not a good enough answer.” He cut off, “Looks like you’ll have to wait.”

And he sure as hell made you wait. Through stories and conversing with the rest, you were stuck at the bar until Diluc was finally shutting the lights off. You waved at Amber and the rest a warm goodnight, not at all gentle as you gripped Venti’s wrist and stalked in the direction of his apartment.

He openly laughed at your eagerness, but did not fight your grip.

The moment his door slammed behind the both of you, you were gripping at his clothes and throwing them off to his hardwood floors. Your mouth gravitated towards his — for once you were commandeering the lead tonight.

You pulled Venti towards his bedroom, open mouth kisses as you pulled him along. Once you were close enough, you practically pushed the poor man onto his own bedsheets. Your dress followed as a heap on the floor before you hovered over the Archon. You held a firm grip at his wrists, keeping his arms in place as you nipped at his neck and sucked dark hickies along his skin.

Venti was usually the one who took the initiative in the physical aspect of your relationship and for once, you were dominating the bedroom activities. After all, he had all the power to push you off, but Venti was relishing the way you lost yourself to the lustful passion.

Grinding your naked hips against one another, Venti openly moaned into the air. You just kept sucking at his skin, running down his chest before surfacing back upward. Running a playful tongue over each of his taut nipples, you loved the way Venti was gazing at you from beneath.

“I should make you have a taste of your own medicine.”

“Oh?”

“Should I bring you right to the precipice, my sweet bard?”

Venti smiled before challenging you, “I’d like to see you try.”

You licked your lips before trailing downward, a confident hand wrapping around his shaft. Giving only small kitten licks at the throbbing, pink head, Venti watched you as he folded his arms behind his neck.

To catch him off guard, you took a breath and downed his dick in one swallow. His dick poked at the back of your throat and you fought the urge to gag, your nose prodding against his skin. Venti’s voice broke the cool evening air as he moaned loudly, one hand reflexively carding through your hair.

You swallowed around him before pulling off his dick entirely, placing a small kiss on the head before repeating. Venti continually groaned at your rapidly deep pace, vibrations from your mouth only heightening his pleasure.

To think that you were so meek when you first started being intimate. You were hesitant to hold hands and never really had experience being like this with another person. Venti loved the fact that he was guiding you through it and was almost proud at how he was fully at your mercy now.

Even balls deep inside, you licked at the underside of his shaft and tried your best to swallow around him. He had to fight the need to curse, pleasantly surprised at how you were dominating the night. Venti planned on teasing you the entire time, but it was even better finally seeing you snap.

You felt his hips spasm in place and pulled off of him before he came, hearing a soft groan in response almost immediately.

Venti tried to guide you back to his dick, but you pulled off and shook your head at him, eyes latching onto his from your lowered position.

“You better finish this.” His voice held little patience.

Instead you smirked and shot back, “Like you did with me earlier?”

With little preamble, Venti wiped the smirk off your face by pulling you up and maneuvering into switched positions. You suddenly found yourself on your stomach as Venti aligned himself from behind, the only moment of reprieve was when he pushed in the head of his dick. He stewed there for a few seconds, giving you time to push him off if you did not want it, before thrusting himself all the way through.

You nearly screamed at the long impale, his shaft filling up your pussy as you gripped his bed-sheets tightly. Head shoved downward, you grinded your ass in tandem with his thrusts, a slave to your passion as you wanted to feel him in the most intimate way possible.

His pace ran wild, varying in speed and intensity with each thrust as if to keep you on edge. You felt one of his hand glide its way up your back, outlining your spine before he buried his fingers in your hair. His hold was not gentle, keeping you head down and ass up as he rut harshly against your ass.

His other hand snaked around your waist, returning back to the area that he had graced back at the bar. You tensed around him as he played with your clit, earning a harsh groan in response from the sudden tightness.

Venti leaned down to kiss at your neck, eager to mark those planes of skin as his alone. You expected to be fucked stupid, but he guided you onto your back in the next second.

“Look at me, taking you.” He instructed, connecting eyes with you before motioning down to where you were joined. “It was cute watching you try to take over tonight.”

It was becoming too much for you. Venti was attractive on multiple levels, but what really drew you to the bard was his way with words. And it seemed he picked up on that quickly, eager to whisper sweet nothing or even better, dirty words into your ears at almost any time.

You moans bounced off the walls, along with Venti’s mischevious words, mixed with the sound of skin slapping skin as his thighs continuously met your ass.

“Look at the way you grip me so good. Your sweet lips give such a good nectar, but I’ll get a better taste later.” Venti continued before leaning your foreheads together. “You’re mine.”

To think the God of Freedom was so possessive.

But it seemed he also wanted a response, from the way he kept staring into your eyes after.

“Always yours.”

He shot you a genuine smile in response, more sloppy, open-mouth kisses following as he continued to slap skin against skin. You folded your fingers behind his neck, trying to get any semblance of balance as you lost yourself to the feel of his glistening cock.

Venti continued whispering similar thoughts to you, receiving moans and labored agreements from you in response. He was very vocal during intimate times, which you absolutely loved hearing.

Formal words escaped you as Venti joined your hips together, moans pouring out in a reverence that the Archon cherished.

Taking advantage of your lost mental state, Venti asked. “Tell me, does my little minx want me to fill her up?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, pussy throbbing just at the thought of it.

You heard him swear under his breath, his hips faltering in rhythm as you both neared a similar end. Like a spring being quickly uncoiled, you felt the pressure in your lower stomach burst almost all at once. Clenching hard on his cock, you clawed into his back as he rubbed at a particular spot in your greedy pussy.

“Please!” You begged without direction, Venti following your hidden words as he all but slammed your hips together.

All at once, you felt your tight hole fill to the brim with your shared essence, walls finally painted white as you both finally reached your end. You felt like a puddle of bones on the bedsheets, Venti pulling you to his chest as he laid on his back.

Venti did not hesitate, kissing your forehead even as he struggled to gain his breath. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You replied, much more fatigued than he as you lazily pawed at his hair.

You were hardly equals but in moments like this, Venti made you feel like the most loved person in the world. He placed butterfly kisses along your neck — you could feel his smile on your skin.

“I’m always so grateful when you come home.” Venti continued, lips murmuring against your skin.

Home.

You started here as a simple traveler, without Mora to your name and not a single family member alive. But Venti and all the wonderful people of Mondstadt filled the hole in you heart.

You inclined upward to meet his lips and replied saying,

“I’m finally home.”

#venti x reader #venti x lumine #genshin venti #venti #venti genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin smut #genshin lemons #geshin impact smut #genshin amber #genshin kaeya #genshin diluc #genshin impact imagine #amber genshin #genshin fanfic #genshin fanfiction #genshin reader insert #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanon #genshin imagine #genshin imagines #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #fluff #smut

[kaizokuwritings]

KID / SMOKER / BENN ﹢ s/o with anxiety attacks

+ contains (tw) some anguish but mostly comfort ৎ୭

⸻ eustass kid ✧

➝ honestly, he didn't notice right away that you were feeling anxious. sometimes he's too busy getting upset over nothing and he doesn't notice how tense you seem, how stressed out you are over a simple loud noise, or how distant and scared you seem.

➝ he'll notice when you wake up crying one night. he's completely confused, not understanding why you would be in such a state. he just stands there, lost, not knowing what to do. he doesn't even dare touch you, not knowing how you would react.

➝ he hated to see you like this, and he will probably wait until your crying fit passes to talk to you. but it's a painful wait for him, and he's a little abrupt when he asks you what's going on because he's a little afraid of the answer. has someone hurt you? he's both angry (as usual) but also deeply concerned, and he hates it.

➝ he listens to you talk, gradually understanding that you were in a period of stress, and that you were having a hard time dealing with it, and that it was making you more sensitive than usual.

➝ kid doesn't really understand this stress, but he lets you talk about it, without ever contradicting you. he doesn't need to understand, but he knows that you need to be listened to and allowed to express yourself, to talk about your doubts, to talk about what scares you so much that you wake up at night.

➝ kid never makes fun of what his loved ones may be feeling, he may not understand, but he is unfailingly supportive and will ask you what can help you. can he touch you, if that would bring you comfort? can he craft something that you can use to relax?

➝ he adapts to your needs, even though it may be difficult. in your stressful times, he'll try to keep the noise down and limit his sometimes unnecessary outbursts, he'll ask the rest of the crew to keep it down, and he'll sometimes ask Killer to personally cook your favorite food for you.

➝ as for your fits at night, he'll get used to it. it's hard for him to be woken up in the middle of the night by your cries, even your screams, and sometimes he almost wants to scream out of rage, but he doesn't do it, well aware that it would only make the situation worse. he will then take care of staying awake until you fall back asleep, calming you down with surprisingly soft and comforting words, and if it's good for you, he will kiss your forehead while hugging you and holding you close to his heart that beats at a calm and reassuring rhythm.

⸻ smoker ✧

➝ unfortunately, he's not home very often. he's frequently called away from you if you can't come with him.

➝ if you can come with him (in fact he will make sure you can, if he knows you can be prone to anxiety attacks and he can't be with you), smoker is very alert to you.

➝ he's not like a mother hen, trying to meet your every need, but he's very observant, and quickly notices when you're under stress.

➝ in fact, he sees it even better because he is often stressed himself, and he understands very well how much it can hurt, and how much it can undermine morale.

➝ he will try to discuss it with you, try to find the source of the problem and try to bring you concrete solutions if he can. If not, he will encourage you to find them yourself, giving you more physical support.

➝ he will have you sit on his lap while he works on his papers, sometimes stroking your skin with his thumbs, making little invisible circles. he'll let you lean against him, hugging him like a lifeline if it helps you relax.

➝ he'll make sure you're making progress, and that the problems that have been plaguing you are gone. if not, he will encourage you to keep trying and make sure you know he is there if you need him.

⸻ benn beckman ✧

➝ he's so observant that he can probably foresee your stressful moments. he knows how stressful life and its circumstances can be (his entire crew is probably the reason for his gray hair).

➝ he's genuinely concerned when you wake up at night, shaking with stress, and that stress can be so strong that sometimes it prevents you from speaking or even breathing. he helps you catch your breath, no matter how tired he is, you are his priority and he can't leave you like that. he brings you water, hot chocolate, any food that might make you feel good, warm you up a bit from the inside. then he helps you fall back asleep, gently wrapping his firm arms around you, making you feel like you're in the safest cocoon in the world (and you are).

➝ he's understanding, listening patiently, never taking his attention away from you. he doesn't like to see how tired you look, how you seem to be shriveling up, as if down.

➝ he understands the sources of your anxiety and gives you very good advice to improve your situation. however, he does not want to solve the problem for you, simply believing that it would be more beneficial for you to solve them on your own, as this would be useful for the future.

➝ he keeps a close eye on your health, without being too intrusive because he knows that this can have the opposite effect. he just makes sure that you are on the right track, and that you quickly return to being the little ray of sunshine that he fell in love with.

➥ this was created for the lovely @ochizokulevy and for all those who suffer from anxiety attacks. i hope to have made this writing reassuring and at least useful.

© 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. — all rights reserved. do not repost on any platform.

#meliwrites #one piece writing #one piece reader insert #one piece x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid #captain kid #op smoker #smoker x you #smoker x reader #eustass kid x you #benn beckman x reader #benn beckman #benn beckman imagine

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction - BONUS MOMENTS

PSA: To all new readers, you don't have to read the series (link below) to understand this, however it would help so that you can understand the preconceived emotions behind the chapter!

The Proposal | la proposta

warnings; none word count; 1703 writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter. link to fic masterlist here

13th July 2024, Germany

Amelia and Ben had found themselves experiencing a slight bit of deja vu. The night before the final match of the UEFA European Championship, Amelia was sat in her hotel suite, finalising her preparations for the following evening. A rematch between the Three Lions and The Azzurri. Who would have thought that three years after the last final, the same two teams (give or take a few players) would be in the exact same position.

The difference this time, Amelia had more to think about than just her brother’s feelings. Her relationship with Ben had grown throughout the 3 years that they had been officially together. Countless family holidays shared together, and with each other's respective families had since become a thing of the past as they had successfully managed to merge both the White’s and the Chilwell’s together to create one big happy family. Ben had asked Amelia to move in with him only a year into their relationship, and although outsiders might think it was fast the couple could only disagree with them. They took each stage of their relationship as it came and when it came, just the two of them how it should be.

6 months after moving in together they had adopted a dog together from the local animal rescue centre, a black Labrador called Maverick who was bi-lingual and responded to both English and Italian, much to Ben’s dismay. Amelia began teaching both of her boys (Mav & Benj) simple words in the language of love  and Ben had a harder time retaining it than the pup. Nevertheless, he loved hearing Amelia’s voice when she spoke to him in Italian and it was something he hoped he could hear every day for the rest of his life.

Amelia had continued her role at Chelsea FC as a tactical analyst for the first team, and Chelsea had honored their promise to the girl to allow her to work in depth with the academy talent which is something she found very rewarding and the part she loved most about her job. Of course she loved being around her friends and helping them achieve their dreams but there was something about fostering youth talent that made Amelia really proud to be in the position that she was, to help these young kids from all walks of life make it in the big scary world of professional football. The smile on their faces when they get a call up to an older division, the tears shed by their parents as they wave them off to go and live with their host family nearby Cobham facility, the same eyes that leak a whole different set of tears as they sign their first professional contract with the club - it makes it all worth it.

Something that was eerily similar to the last time Amelia was sat in her hotel room the night before the European Championship Final is that she was, once again, the tactical analyst for the Italian National Team. This time, however, there was no knock on her door with Federico Bernardeschi on the other side waiting to bring her to the English National Team’s base so she could have it out with her brother and Kyle Walker. Thankfully, her relationships with all of the England team had remained intact but that was largely due to another no-contact ban being enforced between her and the Three Lions. This meant that she hadn’t had a chance to talk to any of her friends, let alone her boyfriend Ben, in three weeks. It was painful for both parties, but necessary to ensure that there was no untowards activity or information being shared.

When Amelia was first offered the job she had sat on it for days before making a decision to rejoin the national team. Ben had actually been the one to push her to accept it, it was only something that would make her life better and he didn’t want her to miss out on any opportunity that came her way - even if it meant that the two of them had to be apart both physically and digitally for 3 weeks. That was the thing that held Amelia back from accepting the position on the spot, she would miss the person that became her right hand man. But Ben’s encouragement made the last few weeks easier, and also made Amelia realise just how ready she was to give herself to him...officially.

Marriage had been something that they had both discussed prior as a natural conversation between two people in a relationship that they could see was obviously heading in that direction already, so it was something that was always in Amelia’s mind. She had found herself at florists buying flowers for their dining room table and absent-mindedly thinking about the perfect wedding flowers for her bridal bouquet. However much to Amelia’s dismay, Ben was yet to ask her the most important question of her life and these three weeks apart have made her more desperate than ever to become Mrs Chilwell.

14th July 2024, Signal Iduna Park, Dortmund Germany

A torturous 90-minute match of football later and the Azzurri had done it, back-to-back UEFA European Champions. The only goal of the match coming from her midfield-maestro Jorgi, which was the direct result of a misplay from Declan Rice meaning the ball fell at the feet of Jorginho as he was directly in front of the goal, Jordan Pickford was no match for the beautifully crafted strike which isn’t anything towards Pickford, no keeper was stopping that ball from going in - it was just that good.

This time however, she was the one being consoled by her brother. The pressure of the situation getting on top of her, 3 weeks of no contact with Ben & seeing him for the first time out on this pitch but not being able to kiss him was getting to her, the knowledge that she was again partly to blame for their heartache. Her brother had seen the look in Amelia’s eyes when the whistle blew and the entire bench of the Italian team ran onto the pitch to congratulate the players, she had remained behind. Wrapping his arms around his little sister as she sobbed into his jersey because she was too empathetic for her own good was not how he predicted the outcome of the evening at all, but he was glad he was there for her. Pulling away from her, he tidied up her face and sent her on her way out to the pitch to wrap her Italian friends up in the hugs that they so well deserved, fully aware of the events to follow the wrap up awards ceremony that same night.

______________________________________________________________

I found myself standing in the centre circle at the Borussia Dortmund home ground, with an Italian flag wrapped around my shoulders and confetti all over the floor at my feet. Looking around at the fans who had stayed behind so they could meet their idols, I could not believe my luck in this world.

“I hope you’re not considering a job out here in Dortmund, Mils? I possibly couldn’t be away from you any longer” Ben spoke from behind me, pulling me out of my trance. I whipped my body around at lightning speed and launched myself at my boyfriend, my soul mate.

“Ben” I whispered into his ear as he lifted me from the ground, feet dangling at his mid shin and my arms wrapped around his shoulders so tightly as if to convey all of the hugs we had missed out over the last few weeks apart.

“Mils, I’ve missed you so much.” He said back to me, expressing the exact same sentiments as I possessed. He put me back on the floor and began to push me away from him, in my desperate attempt at a longer hug I wrapped my arms around his torso and pulled myself back in.

“No Mils, I need to see your face as I do this.” He laughed, pushing me off him again and taking a step back from me.

“Benj, what are you doing?” I questioned him, not really believing my own thoughts as to what was about to happen.

“Amelia, my brilliant Amelia. The past three weeks have done nothing but made me realise I never want to spend a day without you again. There are many ways to be happy in life, but all I need is you.  You are my sunshine, you make me unbelievably happy, you make my good days great and my hard day's worth it just to see your smile in our kitchen at the end of it. Your brain is the most beautiful thing I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I hope our future daughter turns out exactly like you so that I have another you to love.”

Ben had descended to one knee as I stood before him, both hands raised to my face to cover my shocked by bright smile and both eyes stuck directly on his own. I hadn’t noticed the crowd of our closest people begin to gather around us to watch the show.

“So in front of God…” Ben nodded his head slightly, I turned my head to see he was referring to Paolo Maldini and shook my head with a little giggle which was copied by everyone else around us.

“...our family and closest friends I want to ask you the question that I know you’ve been patiently waiting for - will you marry me?” Ben pulled out the most perfect ring from a box that I hadn’t even noticed in his hands.

Dropping myself so that I was crouched and on both knees in front of him, I grabbed his face with both of my own hands and pressed the firmest kiss to his lips. My tears ran down my face and probably all over his, he kissed me back. They say a picture says a thousand words, and while I hoped that at least one of our friends had managed to snap a few of this moment, my kiss said only one word...Yes.

#football imagine #football fic #jadon sancho #ben chilwell #mason mount #declan rice #ben white #jack grealish #tyrone mings #kyle walker #ben chilwell imagine #jack grealish imagine #mason mount imagine #football one shot #tyrone mings imagine #x reader #a family affair fic #steph writes #stephspurs #italian national team #jorginho #federico bernardeshci #jorginho imagine #bernardeschi imagine #juventus fic #juventus imagine #italy nt imagine #england nt imagine #three lions imagine #azzurri imagine

[eppysboys]

maybe this is silly given that we're on tumblr but do you have any tips on how to parse, so to speak, wild tinhatting from meta? idk maybe there's not really a difference

Hey anon! Good question!

I think a good general rule is to keep an open mind and not get too sucked into absolute statements about The Beatles, their relationships, their motivations, etc. Truthfully, it's hard to prevent yourself from filtering what you read through the screening mesh of what you personally think about the boys.

Wild tinhatting can often sort of dip into vaguely cultish kind of behaviour, so it's something to look out for and be mindful of. If people are being cruel to people who disagree with them and to figures in the Beatles' circle that have interpretations that grate against their own - it's best to just unfollow. Discussion doesn't have to break down into mean territory. There's no need to attack people who post quotes or musings that don't allign with your view of the band and the dynamics within. Having different little individual pockets in fandom is great, there is no need for 'anger' at these different pockets. If we frustrate each other, it's good to keep it all in check and realise we are all fans of the same band at the end of the day - we're all little kids at the arts and crafts table doing our own thing.

I think a teeny tiny red flag (yellow flag?) might be people reducing things to simple motivations and traits, and in turn reducing actual people down to those things. If someone is filtering everything they read through a certain lens, it's best to be aware of it. To put things in extreme terms is more of a tinhat-y thing to do, rather than meta which I personally view as more open-minded speculation. Idk, that's just how I differentiate the two personally. The main thing I'd say is to take everything with a grain of salt and just /enjoy/ your fandom experience and not feel guilty or threatened if your views don't match up to someone else. We're all very protective of our opinions, which is fine, but mean-spiritedness isn't necessary and neither is tunnel-vision.

"No narrative of any complexity can be built on or reduced to a single element. Conflict is one kind of behavior. There are others, equally important in any human life, such as relating, finding, losing, bearing, discovering, parting, changing. Change is the universal aspect of all these sources of story. Story is something moving, something happening, something or somebody changing.” - Ursula K. Le Guin

#asks #meta #i ramble i rumble

[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

[bittybattybunny]

I'm late!! but yeah umm can you pls give a bit more context on that au were hattie and bow eat fairy food cause of Craft?

Sure can!!

So this au spawned cuz @doodleimprovement was working on their Fae au which is big love and it made me wanna do fae things so I asked for a suggestion and she suggested spiriting away (cuz a running joke i have is Victorian AU offbrand Eclipse tries to spirit the kiddos off cuz she’s fae and likes the kiddos)

And i realized i could use a modified “what if” VA Eclipse’s backstory where she was taken by fae herself as a child (she’s half fae naturally so it was easy to get her) so she has a lot of pent up issues with spiriting away.

So in this au, basically Craft was being a chaos agent and tricked two human children into eating fae food while on the other side of the veil, thus locking them there. Eclipse caught this but it was too late. Instead of leaving the girls to fend for themselves she instead decided she’d watch over them so they’d not suffer as she did. (She was taken when she roughly 6ish and had no one at her side so she was left to fend for herself with only her own latent magic. this leads to her actually being an incredibly powerful fae but she’s not aware of her parentage. Her fae mother is Tatiana.)

Meanwhile the girl’s father, a novelist, is looking everywhere for them. He ends up in the woods per tip from someone in town that they saw the girls with a strange black haired teenager (this was Craft shapeshifting) and they went to the Horizon woods. there he’s trying to find them but he can’t. He actually starts to suffer from an Asthma attack from his running and his panic. Eclipse steps in to ease his suffering as she’s able to make herself visible to humans.

She takes him to a mushroom circle to bring him to the other side and as long as she holds his hand he sees the girls but the moment she lets go he no longer can. because they are more fae than human and have no magic yet they can’t be seen without the sight even if they are in the fairy veil.

They end up discussing options and none of them are great. basically if he tries to be spirited away he risks dying due to his age, he refuses to abandon his girls. So they end up deciding that until they find a way to bring the taken back she’ll have to go with them so he can see the girls.

This often leads to bickering as she HAS to hold his hand for it to work, the two have different views on parenting (she has a very strict idea on it due to her upbringing as a Duke’s daughter; he’s a bit more lax) and if shes annoyed she’ll let go and just vanish from sight. but normally the girls will chide her until she apologizes or if he was the one in wrong he apologizes.

Slowly the two of them get closer and because she’s near him so often her magic does rub off and she’s not needed for him to see his daughters, and eventually because they have the limited contact with the fairy veil they slowly get human again to his delight.

She doesn’t realize how close she got to them so when they are fully visible again she realizes “oh. I’m not needed anymore.” since their deal was she’d stick around until they fixed the girls.

What she doesn’t realize is the weird feeling in her chest she gets with the novelist is love, nor does she realize he’s fallen equally in love with her over the time they spent together, so when he wakes up and can’t find her he panics.

When she’s back in the woods she can’t get herself to stop crying. She doesn’t understand why it hurts so much more than when she herself was taken.

It’s not until she hears him shouting her name. Panting and wheezing and looking for her in the dead of night, his hair a mess of curls, glasses on crooked, shirt wrinkled and he just looks distressed.

It’s then she realizes why she feels so terrible and ends up running to him and the two embrace. its there they end up kissing and he accidentally swallows some of her blood (when she was crying she’d been chewing her lip) which forms a formal bond between them, allowing her to fully leave the woods and live with humans without worry again.

Meanwhile Craft watched this and just grins before vanishing back into the veil. as the whole reason they picked those two girls, is they had a feeling they could finally help the woman get out of the woods that played a mean trick on a frightened child.

Because the title “taken and alone” is not in reference to hat and bow but Eclipse herself. The whole reason the woods took her was because she was being hunted by the man who murdered her father and was trying to kill her. She just was trying to live and the forest saw her untapped magic and took her. It kept her isolated for a long time before exposing her to other fae. Craft saw this but was unable to help her and being a fae themself they weren’t sure how to help a half human. thus they concocted the idea a human had to be the one to pull her back to the otherside. So they found a human who was very full of love and stubborn, found a way to make him go to the woods, give him a reason to stay with Eclipse and know her and get attached, and hopefully he’d save her.

The whole thing was a shot in the dark Craft was trying to save her. thats why they were saying “understand--” but Eclipse was very angry for a good reason.

So long short, Craft wanted to save Eclipse who’s been trapped by a fae woods to try and become a good magic source despite shes half human so he tricked a couple of kids into getting taken because he needed their father in order to try and give her a tether to the human world because shes been in the woods for 300 years and anyone who knew her on the human side are dead.

#taken and alone au #ask #anon #Ru wears huge circular glasses like milo thatch and he only wears collar shirts and sweater vests like a dork #granted he wont admit after a year with Eclipse he actually no longer needs them as her magic actually kinda corrected his vision #but she looks so cute when she steals them to play tricks on him so he plays along and keeps wearing them

[chuuulip]

Aria - The Opening

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female Reader

Warning:  Some fluff, an ity bity bit of angs (if you squint), implied smutt?

Words: 1797

Prompt: Imagine where Hannibal is dating reader and she wants to learn his native language although she is sort of aware if not suspecting that he dint really had a good childhood due to loosing his family in a traumatic event.

Summary: "This skin to skin language may be the language I wouldn't mind teaching you right now, my dear. Are you interested?"

A.N: This is for @venusdemonroe a think a first fanfic request I received 😉 Also this like the first time I wrote Hannibal Lecter and I honestly feel intimidated haha. I would like to specifically thank you @detectivehannibal for feeding me Hannibal content fanfic and inspired me to wrote one ❤️ I honestly thinking to write a smut version of this prompt, but maybe another time? This piece isn’t beta and if there’s a grammar mistake, that will be on me 😉 but thanks to @jewels2876​ for the input.

---

It's not the first time Hannibal welcomed you to his humble abode. But tonight, it might have turned out into something more. But maybe you knew better not to put your hope up too high.

You accidentally meet Hannibal after the mushroom tragedy. You covered part of the investigation in a local newspaper. Less bitty as such of the Tattler.com. The second time you met the handsome psychiatrist after the opera performance marked the first time he asked you to attend a dinner party at his house. Thanks to your unwell sister that gave you the spare ticket.

"Didn't think I would meet you here, Miss?" Hannibal approached you. He kissed the back of your hands while you tried to calm down your nerves. Not only because Hannibal greeted you so effortlessly, but it's also because you fell in love with the performance that night, you felt like you were still in a dream.

Being the opera's younger attendee, Hannibal was kind enough to lend you his time answering your question that night.

"I'm a bit embarrassed that I haven't done my research before arriving here tonight." You played with the clutched at your hands. Luckily enough, you had an appropriate dress in hand to attend the performance.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Not knowing a new environment is expected." His deep melodic voice soothed your nervousness.

"The most important thing would be learning to adapt, and by that, I wouldn't mind helping you with such transition."

Oddly enough, both of you hit it off pretty quickly. Pretty much have the same hobby, enjoying quite similar food and the same thing when it's related to entertainment. Even though Hannibal was significantly older than you, there's no difficulty when it comes to conversation, and you are glad about that.

"Come on in." You were pulled back to the present when Hannibal put the right of his hands at your back. Guide you into the foyer of his house. It's been quite some time since the last dinner you have with Hannibal. Your work kind of required you to travel a lot and sometimes you missed his dinner party. Not to mention how busy he is with his job as a psychiatrist and helping the FBI with eccentric cases.

Hannibal helped you with your coat as he led you near the stairs.

"Would you mind waiting for me upstairs? I will bring some wine for us to enjoy."

You nodded at him and climbed the stairs. You aren't sure where to go, so you just wait in the corridor. Hannibal loves to decorate his walls with painting, and you can spend so much time looking at it one by one. A little bit different from Hannibal, you, on the other hand, were specifically into surrealism, but that doesn't mean you can't enjoy other styles. One time you gushed about it so much Hannibal can't help to invite you to a specific exhibition that might be to your liking for your second date.

Darted your interest from the painting of Suzumi no Hotaru to something new by the end of the corridor, you approached it. There was an elegant chess set sitting by the windowsill, and the closer you got to it, the more you thought it might have been made of bone.

The light steps can be heard climbing up the stairs, but you don't mind it since you knew who that belonged to.

"Do you like my Bundesform set?" Hannibal stopped at your back. He kissed the top of your head and waited for your commentaries.

"It's beautiful. This one's new, I believe? Made of bone?" carefully, you pick up one of the kings and inspect it's details.

"Elk."

"You hunt?" There was a surprise in your voice although you have a vision Hannibal did that kind of activity.

"Occasionally."

A small giggled escape your red lips, but you let it die down quickly. Cleared your throat in an attempt to hide your amusement.

"You don't think I'm capable of such a thing?" There's humor in his voice.

You put the piece back and turned your body to face Hannibal. Placing your hand at the bottle of wine he has with him, you pried it out and secured it on yours.

"It's just that the image of you hunting in a full three-piece of suit popped up in my mind. That wouldn't do, right?"

Hannibal smiled at you. His lips curved up playfully. "That wouldn't do, sweetheart. You need to dress appropriately for a hunt, my dear. Shall we? Unless you wanted to stay and enjoy the bone crafted chess longer?"

You shook your head and let Hannibal lead you inside his bedroom.

—

Hannibal sent you an amusement look when you tried to drag both his turquoise armless chairs, facing the fireplace.

You took off your high heels and sat comfortably on the right side while waiting for Hannibal to take off his suit. Shortly after, he joined you in front of the fireplace. White shirt unbuttoned and sleeves rolled up. He carefully poured some wine in for both glasses on the table and swirled it. Let the wine warm up before it can be enjoyed.

When you have your glass of wine in hand, you snuggle to Hannibal. You rest your head back at the crook of his neck. Hannibal reached around and put his right hand behind your back in an attempt to pull you a little bit closer.

Both of you sipped the wine carefully. Savored the taste of its delicate dark berry fruits and enjoyed the warmth from the fire. Dance in the fireplace.

"It's been a month since I last saw you. Anything new?" His accented, calm voice murmured at the top of your hair.

"I missed you." You blurted, out of a sudden. Suddenly you are more interested in the rim of your wine glass than the man who snuggled with you in his bedroom.

Hannibal places his wine glass back on the table. He tilted your chin up softly to meet his beguiling hazel eyes. "You notice the absence of my presence, and for that, I'm grateful."

"Did you miss me?" One can’t help but demand an answer when the confession was made.

"I enjoy your company, and with the amount of time we spent together, I admit I wish I could see you more often.”

You gave him a wide grin so contagious that Hannibal can't help but mimic yours. He pressed his forehead to yours while he closed his eyes. Feeling content with the moment, he rarely experienced. You let your right hands travel up from his chest to his right shoulder, trying to absorb the pleasant warmth that’s Hannibal Lecter.

"I'm thinking of a transfer." You confessed.

"Didn't find a crime to be entertaining anymore?"

You shook your head. "I never found it entertaining in the first place, and I'm not Freddy Lounds, so..."

Hannibal positioned you to sit on his lap. Which was a score for you. He carefully stretched your legs on the chair while you circled your hands on his neck.

"So, are you going to elaborate more on your transfer?"

"I'm planning to focus more on opera and classical music." You received a gentle hum from Hannibal. His right hand traveled up to your spine. The backless of your red velvet dress made the skin to skin contact convenient.

"That is quite a jump."

You nodded at him. "By that, right now, I'm thinking about studying linguistics first."

Hannibal looked at you. He positioned his right hand on the head chair, supporting his head. "Language is an expression of a human being. It aided communication and helped with emotional release. It's also an attribute of a specific culture, making them unique in their own way. By that, I fully support this new journey of yours." Hannibal articulately gave you his opinion.

"Thank you, Hannibal."

There's a nervousness in the way you answered him. You are a confident woman. He found it odd that you hesitate to tell him. Hannibal shook his head, "I'm afraid this is not the only thing that is bothering you?"

 "I was thinking of studying Lithuanian language..." There was a long pause. You handle this situation like a high schooler in detention with his handsome but intimidating teacher.

"And?" Hannibal asked you patiently. He was under the impression that you weren't sure if bringing this up was a good idea. After all, when both of you spent time together, the discussion regarding childhood and past lovers were involved. Of course, Hannibal told a version of his story to some extent. He was determined to make this relationship work for both of you.

"I— I want you to teach me? I knew from our last conversation I concluded that your days back then weren't pleasant, but I feel like— if I learn it, I can feel a little bit close to you."

Speaking very gently, Hannibal told her, "People experience pain and suffering and overcome them. I would like to say that I overcame it a long time ago. Your intentions, on the other hand, are very optimistic. Although, I should remind you, my love, that it is quite an intimidating language to learn." He tried to make his emphatic statement a little bit funnier.

"As languages tend to simplify over time, I should warn you that this Language retains its ancestral tongue. Also, it has highly irregular cases. Are you ready for such a challenge?"

Your face was lit up; red lips seemed to be curled up in delight when you heard what Hannibal said. Without thinking, you moved your lips toward his. Your soft one meets with his pillowy lips. It was faint at first, just your lips and Hannibal's lips brushed together. But when his right hands traveled upon your spine and his left one secured your back to his, you straddled his lap. The soft kiss turned a bit desperate as your lips and Hannibal mashed each other. Gone was the carefulness he maintained. His tongue traced over your lips, demanding access. Your hand gripped the back of his white shirt as his tongue, and yours explored each other.

Hannibal suddenly pulled apart. The smeared of your red lipstick was stuck to his lips and some corner of his mouth. His sharp hazel eyes turned a bit darker as his left hands went down to palm the ample of your arse." This skin to skin language may be the Language I wouldn't mind teaching you right now, my dear. Are you interested?" Hannibal curled up the side of his lips, while eyes winked at you seductively. Obviously, you aim for an A in your first language class with Dr. Hannibal Lecter. There's no question needed.

---

As always, like, comment and reblog are really appreciated ❤️. Let me know what you think about this xo

#hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal imagine #hannibal fanfic #no organs was harmed in the making #sfw little one #implied smut #hannibal tv #mads mikkelsen characters

[p-artsypants]

I’ll Handle This (9)

In Which Plagg cuts the Umbilical Cord

Howdy folks! Thanks for the patience! I like to pretend I’m regular with uploads, but we all know that’s not true. And for a little while, it’s going to be worse. I had a gallbladder attack this week, and I have to wait about a month to get it out. In the meantime, I get sick pretty easily from most foods. So I’ve kind of put writing on the backburner. 

Oh, I’m also planning a wedding!

Thanks for understanding and not sending demands for updates!

FF.net | Ao3 

—

Adrien was feeling pretty darn good, all things considered. 

Ladybug, or Marinette rather, had been so adamant for so long that no one could know their identities. It was a mantra he stuck to, though he desperately wished to know her outside the mask. 

With Nino in on the secret, it felt more liberating than he expected. All night, he told Nino stories of his terrible excuses and narrow misses of getting caught. 

“I don’t know how I didn’t catch it sooner.” Nino had said, hindsight being 20/20 and all that. 

And Adrien admitted that he felt dumb for not realizing Nino was Carapace sooner. So Nino’s guilt was lessened a bit by that. 

While the boys talked, Plagg stayed rather neutral. He didn’t divulge any more of his plans or prepare them for what was to come. 

Because he couldn’t. Plagg was preparing for several different outcomes, all hindered on many overlapping factors. He just had to hope for the best for now and not stress Adrien out. 

The kid deserved to enjoy his first sleepover.

—

Being an ancient being, Plagg’s passive perception was relatively high. He noticed things and had an awareness that surpassed most other entities on the planet. 

Though, he rarely acted on anything he noticed, since he could phase out of most danger.  It mostly kept him from being seen by people who weren’t supposed to see him. 

However, alarm bells were currently going off like crazy inside his—or Adrien’s—head. 

Lila was hovering just a bit too closely for comfort. 

Though she was usually the main attraction in a conversation, she wasn’t very good at spying. She hovered, just at the edge of the circle, throwing out plenty of ‘oh, don’t mind me’s, but keeping her eye trained on him. She even followed them when they went out for lunch. Far enough away that no one would notice, mind you, but there none the less. 

Lila was not Gabriel’s muse. She was his stooge. His little puppet. His meat camera. 

As long as Lila was around, Gabriel was aware of every action he took. Who knew what kind of bull shittery she’d pull if he did something remotely different. 

But what exactly was she watching for? Just reporting his change in behavior? 

Had Gabriel suspected too much? 

It was high time Plagg put the next phase of his plan into action. 

But first, he needed to throw Lila off the trail. 

It was after class, and everyone was packing their stuff up and discussing how the weekend had gone. 

This seemed like the perfect opportunity. 

“Hey guys! I taught Lila how to play Magic at the last photoshoot! Anyone want to play with her?” 

The words were like fresh blood in a tank of sharks. Lila was grabbed and sat down at a desk, as she tried to come up with an excuse to leave. 

“Oh, I’d uhh...I’d love to play. But my mom has a doctor appointment after school and she wanted me home...” 

“Oh Lila, it’s okay,” said Plagg. “Don’t feel bad about skipping our study session. This is your chance to really bond with the boys in our class!” 

Lila just sent him a tight lipped smile. 

“Okay, Kim, let Lila use your deck.” 

“What? No! ‘Soul Sisters’ is perfectly crafted and only an expert can really unlock its true potential.” 

Alix swiped the deck from his hand. “Yeah, you build a deck with all the tig-bitty angel wifus. It’s great. Take a break, horn dog.” She slammed the deck down in front of a traumatized Lila. 

Max was her partner. “Don’t worry, we’ll go slow and I’ll explain everything as we go along.” 

Plagg smiled to himself, watching as the boys, and even some girls, crowded around to watch. 

He then caught Marinette’s eye and gestured out to the hall. There was no way Lila could stealthily maneuver her way over to him without drawing the attention of all their classmates. 

In the hall, Plagg took Marinette’s hand and led her away, into a secluded corner of the upper floor. Hopefully, Lila wouldn’t spot them if she tried to do something rash. 

“Is everything okay, Adrien?” Marinette asked, her face tinged pink. 

“Not...not completely. Lila was following and eavesdropping on me all day.” 

Marinette gasped, covering her mouth. “That’s sick!” 

“Yes, I agree. I’m not quite sure what she was looking for, but I’m fairly certain she’s spying for my father.” 

Marinette squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry, Adrien. If I knew how to help...” 

“I should be the one apologizing.” He said, genuine sadness in his voice. He had hoped solving Adrien’s problems would have helped Marinette out, but he worried it would be the opposite. 

“What do you have to apologize for?”

He took her hands, holding them delicately in his own. “I told you that I made a deal with her to get you back into school. But…”

She whispered. “Adrien...” 

He touched her face, ever so gently, laying the charm on thick. “Marinette, I care about you so much, and if I could avoid this I would, but...” 

“But what?” 

“Lila’s made it clear that she’s taking this feud I’m having with my father personally. She’s going to take whatever chance she can get to go back on our agreement. She’s going to go after you again.” He shook his head, conjuring tears into his eyes. “I can’t bear to see you hurt by her!” 

“Oh Adrien!” She gasped, before throwing her arms around him. “Please don’t cry. I can handle her, honest.” 

“I have a plan in motion,” he clarified, squeezing her. “She won’t get away with her lies and harassment for much longer. I just need you to be strong.” 

“Whatever you need, just let me know. You don’t have to do this alone.” 

“I know. Thank you, Marinette. Now, I have to go before Lila escapes my trap.” 

Her smile was genuine and full of gratitude. “I’ll see you tomorrow then! Bye!” 

Eager to take what head way he could get, Plagg pressed a kiss to Marinette’s cheek before hurrying away. 

He missed her squealing and dancing after he turned his back. 

—

“I really dislike that sausage-haired cretin.” Plagg muttered as he walked home. “It’s one thing to lie to get attention, but for her to spy on us all day? Talk about creepy!”

“Thank you for warning Marinette,” Adrien said as he floated by his shoulder. “I agree that Lila is looking for any opportunity to go back to bullying her. I think with the warning, she’ll be able to come up with some way to protect herself.” 

“Nothing against your lady’s ability to find solutions, since that is her job as Ladybug, but I don’t know what kind of back up plan she can have against a compulsive liar. Why is every adult in Paris so gullible?” 

“I have a theory,” Adrien suggested. “They aren’t gullible. They just see a pretty young girl crying and they just go along with whatever she says to make it stop. They just assume she’s exaggerating or something.” 

“Good observation,” Plagg commended. “I agree.”  

“But I think we should put off worrying about Lila for a bit and focus on my father. He hasn’t seen you since Friday morning when you serenaded him. I can’t imagine he’s going to be happy to see you.” 

“Adrien, we’ve been over this. I can handle a grown ass adult throwing a temper tantrum. There’s only two things he hasn’t tried yet, and they’re both pretty extreme. I don’t know if he has it in him. I called his bluff before, anyways.” 

“What two things?” 

“Having me arrested...or getting violent. I dared him to hit me and he swore he never would. I just can’t imagine he was telling the truth.” 

“Are you trying to drive him to it?”

“I’m trying to drive him to a place of ‘I give up, what do you want’? Hopefully we can talk, and he’ll come to see you aren’t a child anymore. As much as I think your dear old dad is capable of being a butt head, I think he’s also capable of understanding. He is a successful businessman after all. Business doesn’t come without a little mercy.” 

“That’s a...way to look at it...” 

At that point, they reached the mansion, and Adrien returned to the pocket. 

Plagg decided not to ring the doorbell, and instead climbed the wall. 

He strolled very nonchalantly up to the front door, and entered, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Then he waited three seconds. 

“1...2...”

“Adrien!” Gabriel rushed out of his office. “I didn’t expect you home already.” 

“Because Lila didn’t text you with my location?” 

Gabriel just stared, slightly wide-eyed and pale. 

Caught red handed. 

“She is spying on me for you, right? This isn’t just her stalking me on her own. She’s not smart enough for that.” 

“I—“ 

“So what? You don’t know how to communicate with me so you go to the only person in my class that I not only dislike, but has a record of compulsive lying? Seriously? You thought that was your best option?” 

“You do not get to lecture me about my choices!” Gabriel barked. 

But Plagg just shook his head. “You make no sense to me.”

“My decisions and actions don’t have to make sense to you. You are my child, and you will obey me! Do you understand?” 

Plagg just gave him a patient smile. Arguing with him never went anywhere, because Gabriel always turned his ears off the second Adrien said something he didn’t want to hear. 

Which was anything that wasn’t “yes sir.”

“I understand what you want. But I can’t give it to you. You haven’t listened to what I’ve said. You’re so caught up in injustice, that you haven’t seen how your yelling has affected me. I’m just pulling farther and farther away. Do you want to lose me for good? Is that what you want? Because that’s the road you’re heading down. I’m 15 now. Three years of this, and I could easily move away and never speak to you again after how badly you’ve treated me.” 

“I do not treat you badly! Have you ever gone without food? Without a soft bed? Without clothes or showers? No! You have it better than most people in this city.” 

“You’re right, I should be without want or need. But you’ve severely neglected my heart. Gabriel, I’m lonely, and sad. I’m disappointed every time you break a promise. I can go anywhere and have food and shelter and whatever, but only you can give me the love of my father.” 

Gabriel was silent at this, staring at his son, his lips in a firm line. 

“So I’m going to go. I’m staying with some friends for a while. Just to give you a taste of what it’s like without me. If you like it, then, when I’m 18, I’ll leave, and never come back.” 

Gabriel looked to the ground, but found himself unable to say anything. Plagg ascended the stairs, and went into Adrien’s room. 

“I don’t want to leave…” Adrien said, quietly. “I’d rather stay and…” 

“And do nothing?”

Adrien looked away. 

“Look,” said Plagg, directing his chin up. “Your father is a hard nut to crack. We just have to push harder and harder. Do you still trust me?”

“What choice do I have?”

“It’s going to be okay, kid.” He rubbed his thumb over his whiskers. “I promise.” 

He packed up his duffel that he had taken for his sleepover, and came back down the stairs. 

Gabriel was right where he left him. “So, you’re going? Just like that?” 

“At this point, I think it’s for the best. Just for a little while. Give us both some perspective.” 

“You’ll regret it,” he warned. 

“Maybe. But what’s there to learn from if I don’t make mistakes?” 

Gabriel didn’t stop him as he walked out the door. 

After he left, Nathalie emerged from the office. “Your son is surprisingly mature for his age.” 

“No, he’s stubborn. Just like his mother. I give him three days before he comes crawling back.” 

“And if he doesn’t?” 

“Then I’ll make him come back.” 

—

Chat Noir bounded over rooftops at sunset. He had a destination in mind, and getting spotted by Lila or one of Gabriel’s other goons would ruin it all. 

After traveling in circles, he finally reached the Lahiffe house and stopped on the fire escape outside Nino’s room. 

Nino looked up at the sound. “Oh dude!” 

“Nino Lahiffe, the time has come.” Said Plagg in his ancient voice. “This is the Miraculous of the Dude.” He opened his hand to show a single Hersey’s kiss. “You will use it for the greater bro-kind, and let me crash here for the foreseeable future, as I have run away from home.” 

“Dude...” Nino took it reverently. “I will fulfill my sacred oath...but you should probably come in through the front door, and we should kind of explain this to my mom, or she’s going to wonder how you got in the house.” 

“True. Meet you downstairs in five!” 

—

Marinette laid in her bed, eyes trained to the sky through the sky-light, hands clutching a pillow tightly to her chest. 

She sighed.

The sound made Tikki roll her eyes. She knew Plagg was hamming it up, but did he have to be so…charming?! 

“Tikki…” Marinette announced, after mooning for over an hour. “I think…I think I can tell him tomorrow.” 

The words were music to her ears! Finally! “You can do it Marinette!” 

Then a shadow passed Marinette’s face as the worst past through her mind. “But what if he hasn’t been earnest? What if the way he’s been acting has just been to get back at his father or Lila?” 

Tikki almost groaned. “Marinette, Adrien loves you. He really really loves you! The way he pulled you aside today and warned you about what was going to happen with Lila? He didn’t do that for anyone but you. That was real care! The longer you beat around the bush, the more you’re putting off your own happiness. And you don’t want that, do you?”

Marinette sat up, resolve hardening. “Tomorrow then. I’ll tell him tomorrow, and get my happily ever after.”

#ml #miraculous ladybug #adrien and plagg #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #fanfiction #I'll handle this