#yeah the power plant thing was stretched very thin here

[ktownshizzle]

Terms & Conditions | Chapter 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

Genre: Fluff, eventual smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, I might include scootergate in a future chapter but please know it will be written sensibly imo and with so much love for our Yoongi (I just wanna protecc him at all costs even thru this silly story!), some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range, tbh still nothing too bad in this chapter

Word count: 4k (approx. 18 mins to read)

Posting date: October 15, 2024

Notes: Wow this next update came very early. Really loving writing this couple so much. Btw, winner of this poll is written in and will be appearing in succeeding chapters. Enjoy~

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Masterlist

It’s not like you’ll miss him (you’ve told yourself that repeatedly)—there’s just something in the atmosphere that feels off today, is all.

The truth? It was just you. Everyone else is counting down the seconds, ready to bail and do whatever gets them through the weekend. But you? You wanna stretch the day out a bit more, if it means spending a little more time with him.

You received an email from Hyun-woo earlier, informing you that Yoongi is leaving for his two-week basic training camp. The news dropped into your inbox like a stone, and ever since, a funny weight has settled in your stomach, refusing to budge.

By 5 p.m., the office has thinned out. The soft hum of the a/c is the only sound left in the room. You’re absently adjusting the tiny plant on your desk when you notice him hovering nearby, one hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, the other stuffed into his pocket. 

“So, um, I’ll be gone for a bit,” he mumbles, voice low and a tad raspy. His eyes flick to yours, just for a second, before darting away again. He pokes at the leaves of your plant, as if it suddenly piqued his interest.

“I know,” you reply with a playful pout, trying to keep things light. “You’re just abandoning me here with all this work, huh?”

A tiny smile quirks up the corner of his lips, but something in it feels distant, like he’s keeping some emotions at bay. “Yeah, sorry. You’ll survive, though.”

“I will.” You look away with mischief on your lips, clicking X on some of the windows in your computer. “Besides, I hear Jeon Jungkook—you know him, right?—is dying for a transfer here. I might just say yes.”

His eyes narrow slightly, and you catch the quick flare of something—annoyance, maybe?—before he huffs out a breath. His mouth curls into a half-snarl, half-smirk. “Wow. The body isn’t even buried yet.”

You’d laugh, but the sight of him pushing his tense fingers through his hair as his tongue skirts the edge of his bottom lip apparently has your pussy on speed dial. Why is that single action so goddamn sexy? You blink, quickly shaking the thought from your mind before it escalates.

“I’m just playing,” you mutter, leaning back in your chair to put some distance between your thoughts and his presence. “You take care of yourself, loser.”

He hesitates for a beat, his fingers resting on the edge of your mouse pad, close enough to yours. There’s something happening, curious and charged, but before you can make sense of it, he bites his lip and nods.

And, of course, he says the one thing you promised yourself you would do anyway. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Your heart skips a beat, but your lips form a straight line, pretending you didn’t feel it. “I won’t.” The words come out too quickly, too light, as if you’re trying to convince yourself more than him.

The door closes softly behind him, but the space feels bigger, emptier without him there. You sit back, staring at the spot where he stood moments ago. The quiet settles in, heavier than before, and you can’t help but notice how different the room feels already.

It’s fine. You’ll barely notice he’s gone.

Except… you do notice.

The first few days pass in a blur of silence and monotony. Your office feels out of sorts without him, like something’s missing. His desk remains untouched, where he orphaned a pair of Galaxy earbuds and a relatively normal-sized black tumbler compared to yours.

You tell yourself it’s just the routine that’s off—that’s all. But then you find yourself thinking about the way his mouth always hangs open when he’s concentrating, or how the other day he tripped over the trash can that the cleaning lady keeps moving around and suddenly you have this goofy smile on your face.

The next Monday, you catch yourself looking at the door, waiting for the familiar sound of him coming in, and the realization burns you like the cheap-ass Tequila you had in college: you do miss him.

You groan internally, pressing your fingers to your temples. Great. Just great.

Actually, not great. This is fucking bad. Like violating a multi-million-won NDA bad.

You gotta keep this unspeakable thing locked airtight in the recesses of your brain. Your Youtube and Naver browsing history will definitely betray you so you need to clear that shit A-SAP. Chae will never out you, but you might want to have another convo just for your peace of mind. And finally, you need to put a stop to the friendly-flirty thing you have going on with Yoongi. You had your fun, but it’s time to stop.

Of course that’s easier said than done. Not when two weeks was up, the sight of Yoongi made you almost drop to your goddamn knees.

You didn’t recognize him at first. His hair is gone. Well, mostly. The buzz cut threw you off. So did the round metal-rim glasses. You blink, trying to process the change, but your brain has officially malfunctioned. 

Is this really him? You verify through the name patch on his shirt. Min Yoongi. Daegu. It read. It really is him, and you are no longer yourself.

“Hey,” he says with a small grin as he approaches you.

“Hello,” you manage, eyes fixed on him, still. The glasses. The buzz cut. Shit. He looks ridiculously cute.

Yoongi drops something on your desk—a small bag. You glance at it, then at him, but he’s already walking away, back to his desk like nothing happened.

Tangerines. It’s a bag of tangerines. Maybe 7 of them.

Your chest tightens in the strangest way. You know tangerines are his favorite fruit as he shared during one of your coffee breaks, but the fact that he brought them for you as he returned from bootcamp? Why does it feel so… personal?

You really want to keep your distance and protect yourself, but this man acts like an angel and looks just like heaven—so you don’t stand a chance at all. You’re going straight to hell. Or jail.

Later that evening, you practically burst through your apartment door, your mind still reeling from the sight of Yoongi with that stupidly cute hair cut. Chae is already in the kitchen, humming as she slices what looks like gimbap.

One look at you, and her eyes narrow with curiosity. “What’s up with you? You look manic.”

You toss your bag down and place the bag of fruit on the counter before you flop onto the couch. “He’s back.”

“Who?”

“You know who,” you groan, burying your face in a pillow. “Yoongi.”

Chae immediately perks up, abandoning the knife to focus on your conversation. “Oh? How is he?”

You point to the citrus. “Those are from him, by the way.”

“Wait, wha—aww his favorite and he brought you some? And he got you seven? Oh my god…” Chae swoons as she rummages through the plastic, picking up one of the plush oranges to sniff it.

“How’d you know it's his fave? And so what if it’s 7?”

Chae places the fruit back in the plastic and exhales dramatically as if she was exasperated by your questions.

“Every self-respecting ARMY knows about Yoongi’s tangerines obsession. And there’s seven of them in BTS,” Chae explains pointedly, before crossing her arms. “Babe, if you’re going to be his girlfriend, you gotta know these things.”

“Fuck off,” you roll your eyes and lie back on the cushions so she’s out of sight.

“Wait…” she says, rounding the kitchen island to lean over the couch by your feet. “So Yoongi’s back. Why do you look a little… unhinged?”

“Ok,” you start, leaning forward and resting your weight on your elbows. “He came back with a buzz cut. And glasses. Like, really cute glasses, Chae. Granted it’s the same ones those fuckbois in Hongdae always wore. But he looked… ugh, I don’t even know how to explain it. Like it suits him. It’s so nerdy, but… sexy. His face is so like…” You drop your head back down on the pillow and sigh.

She shakes her head. “You got it bad, bro.”

You sit up again, glaring at her, but it’s useless. “Fine. Okay, fine. I have a crush. Happy now?”

Chae cackles, going back to her chopping board with way too much enthusiasm. “I knew it! You’ve been soft for him since day one.”

You groan, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know what to do about it. He’s my co-worker.”

“And?”

“And he’s a goddamn idol. Plus, I signed that NDA.”

Before Chae could even react, your words continue to spill out from the leaky bucket that was your brain.

“But like, Chae, he got me a whole bag of tangerines. The fuck is that? And he made me a latte—said he made too much by mistake, but I know the machine, there’s literally only one setting. And there’s this look. And when he smiles. Like, I don’t know, like…” Hell, you can't get more words out, because you know you legitimately sound insane. Is Min Yoongi, rapper, producer, billionaire, actually giving you the time of day?

Chae nods, completely unbothered by your spiraling as she chops the kimchi on the board. “Uh-huh. So, when’s the wedding?”

“Not helpful!” you groan, throwing yourself back down onto the couch and covering your face with the throw blanket. You know she’s teasing, but it’s starting to feel too real.

“Look,” you hear her muffled voice from under the cloth. “I'm honestly super jealous right now, don't get it twisted. But I'm really, really excited for you. And not just because he is my bias wrecker, but because you haven't been excited over a guy in like forever.”

You stay mum as you process her words.

“Do you want my advice?”

“Yes.” You pull the blanket away and sit up to look at her.

“Let the chips fall where they may…” she declares as she sprinkles sesame seeds on the gimbap with a flourish.

“That's vague as hell.”

“Listen, you are a smart, capable, smokeshow of a woman. You've got very weird cardigans, but thank god you wear a uniform.”

“Rude?!”

“It seems that he wants at the very least a friendship with you, so just have fun with it,” Chae winks, her voice taking on a teasing tone. “You’ll know when to make a move.”

You stare at her, feeling your face heat up. “Oho I’m not making a move. I’m just… acknowledging the fact that I might be into him.”

She laughs, her spoon waving in the air. “Aight. Good luck with that, then.”

The steady click of your keyboard echoes through the dimly lit office, the glow from your screen casting long shadows on the walls. It is well past 9 p.m. and the office is virtually empty. You are deep into your report, fingers flying over the keys, when the door to your office opens.

You startle but not by much, removing your earphones that were filtering lo-fi music that usually helped with your concentration. 

Your visitor leans against the doorway, sharp eyes lingering on you. Work uniform gone, he sports a branded black shirt and black pants, a gray beanie hiding the fuzz you have been obsessed with for days.

“Still at it?” he asks.

“Yeah. Told you I was gonna try to get this done after hours,” you say, flashing him a tired smile. “Thought you left.”

He seems about to say something, but he pauses, glancing around the room before his gaze settles on his desk. He moves toward it, clearing his throat.

“Ah, yeah. I did,” he says, his voice casual, almost too casual. “But then I realized I forgot my earbuds.”

He plucks the pod case from the table, holding it up with a little shrug. “Couldn’t exactly leave without these, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, one eyebrow raised. “Didn’t you leave those here for, like, two weeks when you were at bootcamp?”

Yoongi’s grin flickers—just for a second—but then it’s back in place, lazy and effortless. “Must’ve missed them this time.” He slides into a chair beside you, settling in like he has no intention of leaving.

Curious. Very curious. He is not about to waste his Friday night to be in this office with you. Or is he?

“So I have an idea that might make tonight more… interesting.” He declares, setting his bag down against your desk.

Before you can ask what he meant, he stands up and disappears out the door. A few minutes later, he returns, a mischievous glint in his eye and a bottle of wine clutched in his hand. 

You sit up straighter, eyes wide. “Yoongi, where the hell did you get that?”

“Hyun-woo’s stash.” His grin was impish as he set the bottle down between you. “He gave me keys to his office.”

“I don’t think he gave it to you for this purpose,” You gape at him, disbelieving. “You’re going to get us in so much trouble.”

He shrugs, looking entirely unfazed. “It’s after hours. Nobody’s around. Besides…” He glances towards the CCTV camera in the corner, then reaches for a small box on top of the filing cabinet and slides it in front of the camera’s view. “Oops.”

You can’t help but laugh at his boldness, shaking your head. “You know I signed an NDA about working with you, and now you’ve got me breaking the code of conduct? You’re trouble, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi beams as he twists the cap off the bottle. “Yet here you are enabling me.”

You raise an eyebrow, snatching the bottle from his hand and taking a sip. The wine was surprisingly decent for something hidden away in an office drawer. Some fruity red that went smoothly down your throat. As you pass the bottle back to him, you fish through your desk drawer, pulling out a bag of cheese crackers and mini pretzels.

“See, enabler,” Yoongi remarked, gulping from the bottle before shoving a piece of pretzel in his mouth.

“Your tshirt says you’re the ‘mastermind’ though,” you point out.

He glances down on the print of his shirt and nods, “That I am” before he presents you the gummiest smile you’ve ever seen.

You fall into an easy relay after that, taking turns with the wine bottle while you continue to type away your report. Meanwhile he takes out his laptop and perches it on the side of your desk so he can work beside you on what seems like a personal project, perhaps a song. But you can’t ask because the NDA states you are not allowed to ask him anything about BTS or his music career.

“How’s the deck coming along?” Yoongi asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“I’ve got the wireframe done. Just need to fill in the details.” You glance at his screen. “You seem busy.”

“Yeah, I’m reviewing materials for a documentary about the last tour,” he says, letting out a long sigh as he slouches further into his chair.

You hum in response, biting your lip, holding back the questions dancing on your tongue. NDA, remember.

He must notice your hesitation, because he waves his hand dismissively. “I know the contract says you’re not supposed to ask about music, but it’s cool. You can ask.”

Before you can second-guess yourself, you blurt out, “Do you miss it?”

Yoongi turns his head slightly, meeting your eyes. You clarify, quieter now, “Making music. Being with the others.”

He doesn’t answer right away, picking at his lip. There’s a pause, long enough that you almost regret asking.

“Yes,” he finally says, voice low. “And no.”

You wait, sensing there’s more.

“Yes, because it’s music,” he continues, leaning back. “It’s what I’ve done my whole life. It’s where I feel… alive, you know? Like everything clicks into place when I’m creating. It’s hard to explain, but when I’m in it, everything makes sense.”

His words pull at something in you—the way his voice changes when he talks about it, that quiet intensity he wears so well. But then he looks down, fingers tracing the cork of the wine bottle.

“But no, too,” he says, softer. “This is the first time in years I’ve been able to step back. To just be… normal.” He glances up, a small grin touching his lips, the kind that never quite reaches his eyes. “It’s weird, right? But it’s freeing.”

You’ve never been an idol, but you can imagine the pressure of always being watched. You tilt your head, curious. “Freeing how?”

He shrugs, eyes drifting to the ceiling. “I get to slow down. Figure out parts of me I didn’t have time for before. Meet new people. Like you.” The way he says it is casual, but your heart does a little cartwheel.

“I’m not locked in the same cycle—touring, writing, performing. I love it, but sometimes… It's a lot. Now, I can just breathe.”

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. You can see how much music means to him, but there’s something grounding about this version of him—without the spotlight, without the expectations.

“Does that make sense?” His voice lightens, like he’s suddenly aware of how much he’s shared.

Your lips quirk a bit. “Yeah, for sure.”

He gives a small nod, almost imperceptible, before reaching for the bottle again, taking a slow sip. “Don’t get me wrong,” he adds, his tone slipping back into something more familiar. “I’ll be back at it soon. But right now… this isn’t so bad.”

For a moment, his eyes meet yours, and there’s a flicker of something there—something deeper, quieter. It’s a side of him you don’t see often, a side that’s relieved to step away from the noise, even if just for a while.

His gaze makes you think of your own life, your own lack of direction. You shift slightly, glancing back at the document in front of you.

“You look like you’re thinking about something,” Yoongi says, his attention shifting fully to you as he shuts his laptop.

You hesitate, nibbling on a cracker, not sure why you’re even about to say this out loud. “I don’t know… sometimes I wonder how I got here.”

Yoongi’s brow lifts, and you feel the heat of his gaze on you. “Here?”

“At this job,” you clarify. “It wasn’t really part of the plan. But somehow, I’ve stayed. And now it’s been years.” You laugh a little, but it feels tight, almost self-conscious.

“What do you mean?” he asks, his voice steady, as if he’s urging you to go on.

You sigh, glancing down at your hands. “I guess… a lot of people around me, they have these big dreams. They’re doing things that sound so… important. My best friend Chae, she’s working in this Michelin star restaurant, on her way to becoming head chef. And I’m just… here. Still figuring things out. Shouldn’t I want more?”

The words slip out before you can catch them, and suddenly you’re left with that familiar weight in your chest, the one that sneaks up on you late at night when you wonder if you’re not doing enough. It feels silly now, admitting it out loud.

Yoongi stays quiet for a beat, thinking, his fingers tapping the wine bottle lightly. When he speaks, his voice is low, thoughtful.

“Not everyone needs to have some grand dream to chase. Sometimes, just doing what makes you feel steady is enough.”

You glance at him, caught off guard by how easily he says it. There’s something honest in the way he looks at you, like he’s sharing a truth he’s only just come to understand himself.

“There’s no rule,” he adds, “that says you have to follow everyone else’s path. It’s okay to take your time figuring things out.”

You bite your lip, his words settling over you like a quiet comfort. “You really think that?”

Yoongi nods, leaning in just a little. “Yeah. Some people chase after their dreams because they think that’s the only way to prove something. But sometimes… just living and finding what makes you feel steady is enough.”

His words strike deep, but they’re simple. You smile, feeling warmth uncurling in your chest. And you know it’s not just the wine.

“Thanks,” you murmur, offering him the bottle, your fingers barely holding on.

He takes it, and when his hand brushes yours, something tightens in your stomach. You let go without a fight.

Yoongi leans back, that smirk tugging at his lips again—like he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having. “If you get fired for this, at least we’re going down together.”

Your laugh slips out softer than expected, probably because he’s so maddeningly calm. Like he’d still have that cocky mouth even if the world was burning.

You both reach for a pretzel at the same time, fingers grazing his. “Oh, my bad,” you say, forcing casual, but inside, it’s like an electric shock.

He doesn’t pull away right away. His hand lingers for a second—just long enough to make you notice. That twitch at the corner of his mouth is lethal.

You chuckle, but it feels hollow, like you’re trying to shake off the sudden flutter in your chest. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

Yoongi laughs, low and quiet, and it does something to you. His knee bumps yours under the table, and he doesn’t move it. “You don’t seem too bothered by trouble.”

It’s a quiet sort of ambush. Nothing pushy, just… unexpected.

You glance up and catch him staring—not at your eyes, but your lips. It’s barely a second, but it makes your pulse spike like he’s just yanked the ground out from under you.

You shift in your seat, trying to play it cool, but there’s a hint of something else, something daring. Your gaze drifts to his lips, wondering, for a split second, what he’d taste like if you were bold enough to just go for it like Chae had said.

But… no. That’s insane. You could definitely get fired for that.

He’s still watching you, face neutral, but his cheeks are flushed, a pink stain that gives him away.

“You good?” you ask, keeping it light, teasing.

“Yeah,” he mutters, looking away. “Just warm.”

The way he yanks off his beanie and runs a hand through his hair shouldn’t feel like a whole damn striptease, but here you are, heart pounding, as if you’re witnessing something way more scandalous than him adjusting his hair. The tips of his ears are red, so maybe he is more affected than he lets on.

“Yeah, it is kinda warm.” You fumble for something to do with your hands, tying your hair up into a messy bun. You don’t think much of it, until you catch the way Yoongi watches, gaze lingering a second too long on the bare skin of your neck. He’s not subtle about it, either. His lips part, and suddenly, it’s like you’ve knocked the wind out of him.

The look he is giving you is devastating. Fuck.

The way his tongue drags across his wine-stained bottom lip is downright diabolical. It’s a subtle motion, but it hits with cutting precision, like he knows exactly what he’s doing and how it’s affecting you. And you know he has this down to a science at this point, being an idol, and knowing how to bring fans to their knees. 

“Trouble,” you mutter, shaking your head. It’s not just teasing anymore. It’s acknowledgment, an unspoken agreement that you both know what’s happening.

He licks his teeth, smirking. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly, trying to ease the tension. “Can’t believe I let you drag me into this.”

And by this, you both know you’re not just talking about this night, but all the moments leading up to it. Leading up to these new feelings you haven’t fully unraveled.

“You like it,” he teases, taking another swig, feline eyes locked in on yours a second longer than necessary, like he’s daring you to deny it.

Welp. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re starting to.

Maybe you already do.

A/N: So what do we think? Tell me what you liked about the chapter and what you want to see in the next ones!

Btw y'all really wanted JK in this one so I had to write him in. Personally, I was imagining Seungcheol (my Daegu bbs) and initially had him in the drafts, but Woozi would've been comedy gold, too.

Next chapter is half-way written haha who am i?! Look forward to 1,000 words about Yoongi's large, veiny hands. Who's down?

Chapter Three >

Taglist: @glossdebut @kam9404 @mar-lo-pap @nnybtitts08 @granataepfelchen

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@kayleefriedchicken @jajabro @tinytan-gerine @xxbibin1208 @forevercarpediem227

@yoongicatagenda @someshinesomedont @marnz1990 @iheartshopping @confidentjus

@queenbloody @whydoeyecare @sadroses98 @curlyquennn

[johannstutt413]

(requested by calligomiles) 

“Heya, Miss Goody-Goody Gummy-Drop!” Leto, the second-most summer-y of the Ursus quintet, stopped by the cafeteria to see the most summer-y. “How’re things?”

“Oh, hi, Leto! Are you here for lunch?”

She gave her an ‘eh?’ gesture. “If you’ve got a minute to eat with me, then sure; honestly, I’m here for you.”

“Huh?” The chef blinked a few times before turning to Bagpipe. “Hey, Pippy, I’m gonna take a break, if that’s alright.”

“It ain’t busy enough fer me ta stop ya, Gumgum. Go on ahead.” The Vouivre spun the spatula in her hand as if welcoming the challenge.

The bra- halberdier (who’d’ve thought?) led Gummy off to a table noticeably out-of-the-way before sitting down, resting her polearm against the wall. “So, how’s it goin’?”

“Same as always,” she smiled back. “Hoping the rest of the Group isn’t having too tough a time out there.”

“Yeah, me too…It gets pretty lonely sometimes when they’re not around, doesn’t it?”

The chef wasn’t sure how to reply to that; honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time Leto had said something like that since they’d made it to Rhodes Island. “Um, maybe a little, but I mean, I can always find you when it gets bad, right?”

“Exactly!...So has it not been that bad when they’re gone?” Rosalind leaned forward when Gummy didn’t immediately respond. “I know you’re still having the nightmares, Rada. It’s okay.”

“I can manage-”

Leto shook her head. “C’mon, Sunny-Side Up, pick up what I’m putting down here, wouldja? I’m not asking if ya can manage, I’m asking if ya feel as lonely as I do when they’re out on missions and we’re stuck at home.”

“You can just ask it like that next time, then, Rozz.” Rada sighed. “Honestly, you know I’m a bit slow on the uptake after standing at a stove all day.”

“Aren’t you- never mind. So there is a chink in the ol’ bright-and-shining armor, huh? Always wanted to see ‘neath the mask.” The smile the halberdier flashed her was worth its weight in gold.

Gummy set a hand to her chin, spinning a salt packet against the table with the other. “So ya proved I’ve got more than one emotion; are ya satisfied yet, padruga moya, or ya wanna keep picking at me?”

“Oh, I wasn’t just picking, as fun as Sonya makes it look; I needed to know I had a shot before I asked the real question.” The chef waited. “How’s about we bunk together while we wait for them to get back? Ever since Nat and Anna decided they wanted their own room, I haven’t really had the option, so...”

“How long have you been- no, I probably shoulda asked by now. Ya like your bed?”

Leto blinked. “It could be better.”

“Then we’ll use mine.” Rada stood up from her seat and stretched. “Come find me after work, a’ight? I’m working dinner, too, so you shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Alright, cool…’Fore you get back to it, though.”

The chef shook her head. “Ye-?!” Before she could finish the word, the halberdier had her in a solid bear hug and didn’t let her go until she’d lifted her a solid inch off the ground. With that, Rosalind let Gummy go back to work and went off to continue her Guard training.

“She gave ya a good squeezin’ there, didn’ she?” Bagpipe remarked as the Ursus went back to the grill. “Why hav’n I herd ‘bout this girl sooner?”

“You’ve served Leto before, I’d guarantee it; she’d eat her weight in protein every day if she could.” Not that Gummy wouldn’t, given the chance.

The Vouivre set her spatula aside and her hands on her hips. “Now c’mon, Gumdrop, don’ be tryna beat ‘round the bush wi’ me. How long ya been a couple?”

“What?!” She shook her head wildly, although she wasn’t quite sure why she was protesting so much. “N-no, Pippy, that’s not how it is at all!”

“Eh? Sure as shit cudda fool’d me, way she looked at ya. Ah well. Ya got back just in time to help with dishes, so thank ya for yer service!”

Rada fell silent, then cracked a smile, and then started to laugh - not her usual mock laughter, her show-giggle, but a proper Ursan guffaw. “Blyat, she got me. How she played it cool this long, I’ll never know. Dishes, right? Sure thing, Pip.”

With this new piece of information, there was a change in the chef’s behavior; if before, she’d been energetic, now she was a god-damn nuclear power plant, and she wasn’t afraid of a little fallout - today’s evening altercation with Ceobe ended with Gummy tossing her out the dining room with a smile after giving her a good ear-scritching. It was like someone had reminded her what it looked like when an Ursus was allowed to enjoy themselves, and no one minded if she was a little rougher around the edges for it, because that smile? That genuine ear-to-ear smile that shone brighter than the phosphorescents in the ceiling? Worth it, no doubt about it.

“Hey, Gummy!” Leto came back towards the end of the dinner shift with a delivery receipt for some pizza, already changed into something casual...Well, casual and different enough from her usual outfit to be obvious. “Ready ta...go?”

“Am I ready ta spend the night with ya? Konechno, blyat! Bozhe moy, let’s be off!” Rada didn’t leave the kitchen so much as charge through the door and crash into Rosalind as a tidal wave of Gummy goodness.

On the one hand, it was fantastic to see her this enthused, but on the other hand…“Ya haven’t been drinkin’ without me, have ya?”

“Drinkin’ without- Suka, ya know I wouldn’t drink on-duty! Who’dya take me for, Beehunter? Nah, I’m just lookin’ forward ta tonight.” She winked at the halberdier. “Are ya ever gonna learn ta ask for what ya want, Rozz, or just keep tryna play it cool?”

“Alright, who told ya? Was it the other lady at the grill with ya today? I bet it was, because I’ve been dropping hints for weeks and ya only just caught me.”

Gummy grabbed her hand as they walked - saying she held it wouldn’t do the pressure justice. “Yeah, but shit, why didn’t ya tell me yourself?”

“Because I thought ya only had eyes for Sonya, natch.” Leto shook her head. “It was hard to tell, since you’d just shower her in praise every chance you got.”

“Look, suka, if ya’d just told me how ya felt, ya would’ve known for sure one way or another! Bozhe...Ya ordered dinner already?”

The halberdier nodded. “Yep! Wanna see if UFC’s on? Heard Sonya’s fave is getting her ass handed to her tonight.”

“Eh, it’s all the same,” Rada shrugged as she hauled her catch over to the couch, door to her apartment closing by itself as she crashed into it backwards. “Ya got something more important to take care of than that, anyway.”

“I do, huh?” Rozz had enough time to giggle once before Gummy was all over her.

That night, the two power plants of the Ursus Student Self-Governing Group figured out nuclear fusion...at least twice.

[helpimhyperfixating]

OMG mer joot crawls to Y/N's work 😂😭 imagine if he got into the office and is now just wandering around since he can pick up Y/N's scent, but gets distracted by new things like vending machines and automatic doors 😂

Omfg that’s so cute.

Jotaro crawls into your office building following your scent but immediately at the entrance he already runs into the first obstacle.

The automatic sliding door.

It opens once he drags himself onto the pressure pad, but because he spends a little bit looking at it in curiosity, by the time he tries to drag himself through, the pressure pad mechanism has glitched a bit. It thinks his heavy weight is actually normal, that no one is on it. So, as Jotaro has his torso through, the doors close, trapping him in between them.

Que a light confused panic. He is flopping a bit, one hand on the glass door, one hand on the floor, trying to just pull himself free - as if the base of his tail isn’t thicker than his waist. Anyone watching the scene trying to help will get hissed and swiped at, anyone watching the scene from the other side is smart enough to not approach a massive, 3,5-4m, powerful, muscle filled tail.

In the end, he has to figure out that slapping his tail onto the pressure plate outside hard, is what makes the system register someone trying to pass, at which point the doors open and he can finally crawl through.

People are walking through the hallway, only to suddenly go in a wide arc, eyes big and surprised as they go around the Merman sitting in front of the vending machine.

Why is he sitting there? Well, he spotted one of the snacks you love to eat. Is this where you got them from? Should he take one with him for you? How can he even get them? Jotaro spends about seven minutes in front of the vending machine, trying to figure out whether he should or shouldn’t. He decided on shouldn’t.

Following your scent, he got to the elevators. But one look at seeing a human step inside (while sending a scared look towards him) made him decide that yeah no, he is not going into that metal box, nor will he fit very well, or even know how it works.

Luckily for him, something familiar stood next to the elevators. Stairs.

For the next twenty minutes, no one dares step into the stairwell, the aggressive Mer climbing them making sure of that.

-

You are just sitting at your desk, boredly typing away at your computer when your manager walks onto the floor, demanding the attention of everyone.

“Uhm, the front desk just called. Apparently? There is a Merman inside the building.” Just that was enough to make you shoot up in your seat, wide awake. It wasn’t— was it?! You had already gotten onto your feet, ready to sprint to whatever place it was but the next sentence from your manager stopped you. “Everyone needs to stay where they are! They have called someone to help hopefully remove the Merman and take him back to where he belongs but until then we cannot leave this floor.” Fuck.

-

Reaching the fourth floor, Jotaro was finally pleased to note that he had reached the right level, your scent strongest beyond the door in front of him.

Opening the door, he made his way inside, looking left and right to see he was in a carpeted hall. A crash sounded from the left, showing a woman who had just dropped a tray filled with coffee cups, staring at him in shock. Jotaro’s lip curled and he decided to turn away from her and to the right.

Crawling forward, he suddenly bonked his head against thin air, blinking a few times and realising that it was a door completely made of glass.

Trying to push, he saw the door wobbled a little bit but it wouldn’t budge. Squeezing the tips of his fingers in the small opening and trying to push it sideways didn’t work either. So it wasn’t a sliding door like the one to your yard. Finally looking up, Jotaro saw a silver-ish handle sticking out of the glass.

Now annoyed, he shuffled to the side and stretched his arm up, just barely managing to reach the handle and pull, getting the glass open. The moment he let go, it tried to fall shut again and he had to keep it open with his hand, trying to pull himself through at the same time. When he finally had the largest part of his tail through, he was able to let go and use both arms to pull himself again.

And finally, as he got through the door, to the left, all the way further down the floor, he saw you, sitting with your back turned towards him. Looking left and right, he saw a strangely shaped container on a black looking table. Picking it up, it proved to have several pencils inside, which he just threw over his shoulder. Testing the container, it was light and perfect for what he wanted to do. So with that, he lobbed the thing at you.

You were now anxiously sitting at your desk, forced to continue working while inside your mind, you were stressing the fuck out.

Something suddenly hit you on the shoulder, hard, and you yelped in pain, grasping your shoulder before looking behind yourself with a glare, trying to find who threw it, almost choking in your spit when your glare was returned tenfold by a familiar face.

Hearing your exclamation of pain, others had turned to see what was up, now also seeing the merman sitting in the manager’s office.

Quickly getting up, you were ready to sprint towards Jotaro, maybe drag him back home or to sea by your own hands, but you hadn’t even been able to take your hands off your desk when your manager rushed forward.

“Don’t! Move. Nobody move.” She urged, coffee splatters on her legs from when she dropped the tray, a frazzled look to her as she looked at the Merman.

“But-!”

“Stay put, L/N. I’m sure those they called will come soon.” She whispered to you and you once again opened your mouth to try and explain— well, something at least, but you got shushed by her.

Your manager honestly just meant well, but not allowing you to go to Jotaro only made the Mer more grumpy as he let himself fall forward onto his arms again, once again starting to crawl.

“Alright, everyone just back away!” Your manager ushered, starting to try and push you back as well, suddenly getting a plastic cup thrown at her head. Followed by a stapler. And a computer mouse. And somebody’s phone.

Jotaro was trying to get her away from you, not able to reach you, so instead resorting to other means. You however, blocked the last one, trying to catch it with moderate succes. It wasn’t cracked.

“No, hey, stop!” You called out to Jotaro, only seeing him grab a mug as you took a step towards him. “Don’t throw that!” Too late, as your manager had to duck to avoid getting a mug in the face while you continued getting closer. “No, hey— you put that plant down! You put that plant down right now! Jotaro!”

“L/N, come back here!” Your manager called out frantically, making Jotaro lift the plant, ready to throw.

“Hey! Jojo, no!” You sternly called out, pointing your finger at him, hoping that using the nickname in some way shape or form would help.

It seemingly did, since Jotaro put down the plant! Only for you to suddenly be yanked by your ankle, toppling over and falling onto your back before being pulled closer.

A collective gasp in fright left everyone around you as they jolted, but when they looked closer, they saw the Merman laying on top of you peacefully.

Jotaro had draped himself over you, his chin resting in the valley of your chest, your hands covering your face in embarrassment while Jotaro’s tail kept your legs pinned down.

“Why?” You whined pathetically from beneath your hands, earning a slight growl.

“Because you left.”

From beneath your hands, you deadpanned. Next time, you were locking him up.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

A fluorescent green gaze pierced through him from the rearview mirror. As much as the eye contact sent chills down Dale's spine, he didn't want to look away. Some primal part of his brain was much more comfortable keeping his eyes firmly planted on the predator in the back seat of the police car.

"Why won't he leave?" Dale whispered to his partner, the woman grit her teeth.

"I don't know, but I'm not the idiot who decided to fucking arrest him." spat Whitney.

"I didn't think it would work!" Dale hissed. They were trying to be quiet, but he was certain the ghost boy could hear them clear as day, especially with the quiet of the late night streets. "I was just following protocol. We're not supposed to ignore criminal activity."

"The protocol," Whitney's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as she circled the block for the third time. "Is to not fuck with the ghosts Dale. Especially that one."

She jerked her head roughly to the boy in the back seat, he was looking around the car and humming to himself, he didn't appear to be paying attention, but that didn't mean he wasn't listening.

"Look I just... we need to at least keep up appearances. We can't just let people think we aren't even trying."

"Yes! Yes we can!" Whitney snapped her mouth shut as her volume started to rise with frustration, she glanced nervously into the mirror and took a deep breath before continuing in a low tone. "We aren't paid to deal with this kind of bullshit, we radio it in and let a Fenton or a Guy in White deal with it."

"Okay I get it!" Dale ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I just... I feel so pathetic doing nothing when ghosts are just running around destroying public property-"

"Oh yeah no that's fine Dale that's a great reason to go and put handcuffs on the most powerful ghost in the fucking city." Whitney took the next turn a little too sharply, Dale felt himself lurch sideways, but the boy in the back hardly moved. It wasn't especially surprising given his usual disregard for the laws of physics.

As well as all the other laws that Officer Dale was supposed to be enforcing.

"I told you I didn't think he would actually come willingly." Dale whispered harshly, his voice containing just the barest hint of hysteria. "I just wanted to show him that we aren't total pushovers, I didn't expect it to go this far."

They circled the block once more as Dale checked the rearview mirror again. Phantom was playing with his handcuffs, jiggling the chain and twisting his hands around them. It was almost like he was trying wriggle his way out of them, Dale knew perfectly well that they were just ordinary handcuffs, and he could phase through them at any moment. Phantom had to know that too.

Whitney flicked her eyes between the mirror and the road.

"Asshole," the word was barely audible, Dale would have missed it had he not seen her lips move. "He's just doing this to fuck with us."

"Of course he is." Dale rubbed at his face tiredly. "He's probably got nothing better to do, maybe he'll leave if another ghost shows up?"

"And exactly how long do you expect us to go around in circles waiting for that to happen?" Whitney asked through gritted teeth. "This is getting fucking embarrassing."

"Maybe we should just take him in," Dale sighed in defeat. Whitney took another corner way too hard, jostling him roughly in his seat.

"I am NOT taking Phantom back for processing. They will NEVER let us live this down, and I am NOT becoming the joke of the precinct because YOU decided to be a god damn moron and arrest a fucking ghost."

Another sharp turn and the entrance to the city park flew by their windows again, Dale had lost count how many times they'd circled the block, but somehow he was certain that Phantom hadn't.

The little shit was enjoying this, why couldn't he just sneak into a movie theatre to get his kicks like a normal teenager?

Whitney growled and pulled the car into a complete stop, the wheels screeched and Dale let out a loud WHUFF as the inertia jerked him hard against his seatbelt.

His partner violently wrenched the door open and pulled herself out of the car, slamming the door shut behind her with far more force than was necessary.

Dale followed suit and looked over the roof of the car as Whitney pulled open the back passenger door and whistled sharply, pointing up and out into the sky.

"Go on, get. Ride's over, you've had your fun."

"Awww come oooon," Phantom whined, "I didn't even get to hear you use the siren!"

"Don't care, we're the police, not baby sitters. Go find some ghost cops to bother."

"The ghost cops aren't as fun," Phantom moaned, but he did as he was told and stepped out of the car. "You know, you guys shouldn't swear so much around minors, you're corrupting the youth!"

"I'll corrupt my foot up your ass if you don't get going." said Whitney, flatly. She put her hand out and Phantom effortlessly dropped the cuffs from his wrists and tossed them at her.

He pulled a face at her as she fumbled with the handcuffs, sticking out a very green tongue.

"I saw that young man!" Dale pointed at him from the other side of the car. "Don't let us catch you disrespecting an officer of the law again! Next time you won't get off with just a warning-"

"Dale! For the love of all that is holy shut your damn fool mouth!"

Phantom hopped backwards from the irate woman, his last few steps landing on empty air. He floated gently upwards with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Well this has been fun but I gotta head off, but thanks for the company! We should do it again some time, see you around!" He waved a casual salute and swung around, legs stretching out into a long swirling tail as he sped off into the sky.

Dale felt his knees shaking as he slipped back into the car. Whitney settled into her seat, hands steady as a rock as she belted herself up and started the car.

"That was terrifying." He gasped.

"And yet you still had to keep playing bad cop."

"I'm sorry it just slipped out! He's no different to any of the other punks we deal with around here. A wiseass with no respect for authority." Dale huffed and folded his arms, crossly.

"...He probably wasn't any different, before he died." Whitney said, quietly.

Dale didn't respond, letting the statement sit heavily between them as the car pulled away from the curb.

"I forget that sometimes, you know." said Dale. "This is the first time I've ever seen him up close and he... he really does just look like some kid. How do you think he... how do you think it happened?"

Whitney let out a deep breath as they completed their final lap around the block and headed in toward the city centre.

"I have no idea, and I'm pretty sure that's the kinda thing you can't ask." she paused for a moment, before continuing with a quiet pain in her voice. "He's so young."

"I wonder if his parents know," Dale mused sombrely, "That he's, you know, still around?"

"Who knows."

A car cut them off suddenly at an intersection.

"That was a red light." Dale announced.

The police car's lights flashed as the siren echoed through the empty streets, and Whitney slammed her foot down to catch up with the offending vehicle.

The conversation was over, but neither cop forgot about the incident, and neither could look at their city's hero and menace quite the same. Dale had gotten quite good at seeing ghosts as merely 'creatures', or 'monsters', things that were entirely Strange and Other. Being up close and personal with one had been a much needed reminder of what a ghost truly was.

And that ghost, the one messing around in the back of his car, was a boy. Just a boy. A boy who had a family, a boy who had a life, a boy who had died.

When Dale got home in the early hours of the morning, he hovered by his kids' bedroom, carefully easing the door open to look at their little sleeping faces. Just to make sure they were still there, right where he left them. Still breathing, still alive.

He knew there was a family out there somewhere, parents who had looked through their son's bedroom door and seen only cold, empty sheets.

Dale stepped very carefully over the spilt lego pieces on the floor, and gave his girls both a long, heartfelt kiss on their little heads, before going back to his own room to lay by his sleeping wife's side.

No, no he truly couldn't look at Phantom quite the same way, not anymore.

[vivian24l]

DamiraeWeek2021

Day One: Family/In-laws

The Second Wayne Reunion

Damian tapped his fingers against the wheel.

“Anxious?” asked Raven.

“You know how last year turned out. I was surprised Father agreed to another reunion this year.”

One year ago, Dick had come up with the idea of having a family reunion. He had invited the whole Wayne family together under one roof once again. The results of the party didn’t end so well. Dick clearly wanted to make the reunions annual, because he once again invited everyone.

Damian took another left. They had to drive across Gotham to reach Wayne Manor. After getting married, he and Raven bought a stretch of land on the other side of Gotham. Together they designed their house and hired people to build it.

Damian let out a sigh. “That bastard, Grayson.”

“Language,” said Raven.

He glanced at the rear view mirror. Their daughter, Rashida, was asleep in the back. Although, she could be pretending. Rashida is an intelligent child, more mature than her actual age. However, she does tend to do dangerous things.

They pulled up at Wayne Manor at long last. Rashida woke up instantly.

“We're here!” she announced. The five year old got out of their car immediately to stretch her legs.

“Rae! Watch this!” shouted Mar’i. She flew up into the sky while Rae watched from the ground. Mar’i shot a green starbolt at a low cloud. The cloud lit up in green light before evaporating into thin air.

“Impressive,” commented Rae. She joined her cousin in the air. The two girls turned the clouds green and purple.

Sitting in deck chairs, Raven and Koriand’r watched the kids flying around.

“Did you teach her that?” questioned Raven.

Kori let out a laugh. “Of course not, Mar’i and Jacob discovered it. Speaking of Jacob, where is he?”

It was Raven’s turn to laugh. “I saw him with Jackson, they were building something out of Legos. How do you not know what your son is doing?”

“I’ve been very busy lately,” Kori defended herself.

“Hey sisters! Mind if I join you?” Stephanie didn’t wait for an answer, she took a seat in a chair across from Kori. “Cass and Babs will be here with the food in a few minutes.”

“Is Valkyrie joining us this year?” asked Kori.

“She sure is! Val better not drop out last minute,” said the blonde. “I can’t believe Dick allowed her to skip last year. I mean, like seriously? This is a family reunion and therefore Val can not be missing out.”

“She was on a mission,” said Raven. “Then again, you can’t blame her, this family can be quite a handful.”

“Makes me wonder how we are able to put up with them,” joked Stephanie.

-

“How’s the cooking going?” asked Raven.

Damian turned around to face his wife. “Fairly well,” he answered.

Raven nodded. She took in the scene. Pots and pans were on the stove. A large bowl of lettuce sat on the counter. Nearby stood a container of tofu, waiting to be opened.

“Where’s Richard? I thought he’d be cooking as well,” said Raven.

Damian let out a “tt”. He stirred the soup inside a large pot. “Grayson left an hour ago, he said something about napkins.”

“You do know that not everyone here is vegetarian, correct?” questioned Raven as she noticed that there wasn’t a single speck of meat in any of the dishes.

“I also know that they will have to pay for making me cook a meal for twenty people.”

“21, actually,” corrected Raven. “Valkyrie’s running late.”

“And there I thought she would skip like last year.”

Raven grabbed a spare apron. “I suppose it’s up to me to save everyone from eating tofu turkey tonight.”

“How heroic.”

-

“Mother? Father?” called Rashida.

“We’re in the kitchen, ibna,” answered Damian.

“What are you making?” Rashida stood on the tip of her toes and watched as Raven mixed together the stuffing for the turkey.

“Dinner. Would you like to help, love?” asked Raven.

“Actually I can not,” said Rashida.

“And why is that?”

“Mar’i and I are in need of some pots. We’re going to make popcorn the old fashioned way! But instead of making a fire, we’ll be heating it with our powers,” explained Rashida..

“Is anyone supervising you?” asked Damian.

“Of course, Uncle Jason’s helping us.” Rashida pulled a large pot out of the cabinet. “This will do perfectly,” she said. “Good luck on your cooking!”

“Should I be concerned that Jason is overseeing their popcorn-making?” asked Damian.

“You should have some faith in him,” said Raven.

-

“I think we’re done here,” said Raven.

Damian nodded. “This should be enough food for the whole family, including leftovers for everyone to take home.”

They have made a total of twelve different dishes, two-thirds of which are plant-based. Raven have also made five different types of pastries for dessert.

They left the kitchen to join the rest of the family in the living room. Selina was reading a book to her grandchildren. Rashida, however, was not with her cousins, she was throwing knives with her uncle. They took turns throwing from different positions, each time getting bullseye on the target board.

“Why couldn’t our daughter have some non-violent interests,” sighed Raven.

Damian smiled. “She’s the granddaughter of the first Batman and Trigon, and great granddaughter of Ra’s Al Ghul. And I should add that her adoptive grandfather also happens to be Superman. So I would say that throwing a few knives is perfectly fine.”

“I just want her to have a childhood full of peace and innocence, unlike ours,” Raven murmured.

“She is habibti, she is.” Damian held his wife close. They seated themselves on the couch and silently watched the scene before them.

The peace in the room could not be contained for long. Dick burst through the door holding a large bag.

“Guess what I got?” he sang.

Rashida didn’t even spare her uncle a glance. “A bag full of games,” she answered.

“Uh, yeah. Great guess, Rae,” stuttered Dick. It still intrigued him how she knew what was inside. Well she is her parents’ daughter.

Dick laid out the contents on the table. There was a wide variety of games from classic card games to Twister.

The doorbell rang as soon as he took out the last game.

“That must be Val!” Kori rose to answer the door.

A minute later, the said woman arrived in the room. She could’ve been a younger version of Cassandra, except her features are more sharp. The youngest of the Wayne siblings, Valkyrie was adopted at the age of thirteen. That was ten years ago.

She came just like her oldest adoptive brother, holding a large bag. All the kids, including Rashida, ran over to see what was inside.

“Alright, settle down first,” Valkyrie said. She pulled out four colorfully wrapped boxes and handed one to each of the kids.

Mar’i opened her box and gasped in surprise. “Thank you so much Aunt Val! They’re beautiful.” The twelve year old has received silver bracelets, similar to her mother’s, but with detailed markings on them.

When Jackson opened his box, his jaw dropped. Inside was a Build-Your-Own 3-Dimensional Holographic Projector. “Thank you Aunt Val!” said the eight year old.

Jacob’s gift was eight limited edition action figurines. “How did you-? How is this-?” The boy was so shocked to see eight expensive figurines, that were probably worth a hundred dollars each, in front of him.

“I have my ways, little one,” answered Valkyrie.

“Thank you so much,” he said, giving Valkyrie a big hug.

“Your welcome, and please I’d like some personal space.”

Rashida slowly opened her box. Inside was a white cloak. The fabric was quite unusual. It was soft, stretchy, thin, and light. Yet the fabric also felt strong, and sturdy. The bright ruby glowed in the golden clasp. Unlike Raven’s cloak, this one had sleeves. The hems and cuffs of the cloak were embroidered with intricate designs. Rashida slipped on the cloak, it fitted perfectly. “Thank you, Aunt Valkyrie,” said the five year old.

“There are no gifts for your siblings? Wow, how kind of you,” spoke up Jason.

Valkyrie smiled. “Of course not, only ones for the kids,” she pulled out two more boxes, “and the parents.”

Selina and Bruce gave her their thanks then  proceeded to open their gift. Silent received a full set of cat themed jewelry, while Bruce received a grey tie.

“I actually needed a new tie,” he said.

[cherripeach]

Chapter 14

Little Match Maker

Summary: Your life motto is “I have the power of god and anime on my side, don’t mess with me,” and you stand by that with your life. No human, magician, or random creature could ever stop your firm belief in it.

However, getting transported to this world that seemed to turn your already bad luck worse was not what you wanted to be in your life story, but you made the most of it. Making friends, enemies, and disasters, you were in your prime in this world, and so you decided to help as many people as you could flourish, at least what you believed to be.

Chapter 1:11-12 good credit, bad credit, you dead: ghost credit

Running to the store on campus, so cute.

Warnings: Curse words, implied violence

Words: 3.1k

Relationships: developing but future twstxreader

Ace groaned while face planting on the counter, “We finally finished peeling them all!”

Deuce moaned in pain, “My arms hurt…” He, then, stretched his arms and popped some of his knuckles while rolling his neck. 

You agreed with the two boys, “Yeah, I don’t wanna move for the next decade.” You made your seat on one of the stools next to the counter to take a break after standing for what felt like hours. 

Trey chuckled at your reactions, “Great work. I’m sure that your hard work will all be worth it.” While you three were sulking, Trey began cleaning up as much as possible by putting things away and putting things in the dishwasher. 

Grim grumbled, “I’m getting hungry just by the smell, yanno.” The cat had tried to take as much of the ingredients as possible while you were preparing, but barely managed to get any.

Trey took a sheet of paper out from a binder and sorted some of the ingredients next to some cooking utensils, “The marron base uses butter and sugar. And then, I also added some oyster sauce as a secret ingredient.”

Ace and Deuce jumped up from their positions of dread in shock, “Oyster sauce?!”

Trey placed the sheet down and grabbed a bottle of the sauce,  “Exactly. The savory flavor of the chestnuts gives the cream a rich flavor. And then, to make it better, I use this,” He motioned to the sauce in his hand,  “‘Walrus-brand young oyster sauce’.  There’s no famous pâtissière who doesn’t use this for their tarts, you know?” He ended it all with a closed eyed smile. 

Deuce mumbled, “Really…? It’s a pretty salty sauce, isn’t it?”

“You know how they put chocolate in curry, too?” Ace gave an example,  “It kinda makes sense…”

You were,  on the other hand, not having it, “Naw, dude. It doesn't; sweet can't just nullify salt or reverse. It’s practically impossible.” You shook your head while the two idiots were just pouting in their confusion. 

Trey chuckled while clutching his stomach, “You're right! I was just joking! There’s no way I’d put oyster sauce in a dessert, you know? How’d you know?”

The two idiots never would have guessed that. 

Ace’s hand’s shot up in his defense, pointing at his senior, “What the heck!? Are you making fun of us!?”

“It’s obviously impossible if you think about it a little.” Trey’s lighthearted giggle switched to a more wise old lecture, “The moral lesson here is that you shouldn’t believe anything you’re told. Learn to doubt a bit, okay?”

You nodded your head, “See, Ace. I don’t gotta learn that because I knew right away.” 

You were a genius. In all eyes besides Ace’s, that is. 

Ace snorted, “I bet it was a lucky guess.”

You fought back, “Pshhhh. No way.” You knew this was just the start of one of your many squabbles. 

Grim whispered to you behind his hand, “This guy looks nice, but he’s the type who can tell lies with no problem, huh…”  

“I guess so.” Your eyes widened at Grim’s statement. 

Trey rallied you all together to begin the next step, “Next is the fresh cream!”

A shrill scream ran through the air.

Ace bounced up and questioned Trey, “What’s wrong?”

You joined Ace with your question, “Are you okay?”

“I got carried away with the chestnuts you picked that I went overboard with making the marron base.” Trey laughed at himself and rubbed the back of his head, “We’re a little short on fresh cream.”

Deuce offered, “I’ll go buy some. Do they sell it in the school store?”

Trey explained,  “That shop sells pretty much anything, so I’m sure it should be there. Can I ask you to buy some other stuff while you’re at it? Two packs of milk, two cartons of eggs, silicon cups, and five canned fruits…” He writes down the list of items and hands them to Deuce. 

Deuce reads the list before commenting, “I don’t think I can carry all of that alone…” 

This was your chance, “I’ll come! I need to see if they have uniforms there, anyway.” Maybe you could find some uniforms or even some other clothes for a nice price as if you had any money. 

Grim interjected,  “I’m going, too! I don’t wanna mix more dough!” He raised his little paw as far as his body would allow it. 

“Understandable.”  You did not need to lose your arms over baking. 

The three of you began your walk to the grocery store on campus with only some light chatter about how excited you all were to taste the finished product and how Grim shouldn’t steal it all. 

The grocery store was the size of a drug store, but apparently from what Trey said it had everything anyone at this school needed. It’s gotta be a magic store.  

“We sure this is it?” You questioned Deuce because he was sure to know more than you, right?

Deuce pointed out, “I haven’t heard of any other shops here.” 

Grim quickly agreed, “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Let’s get a move on!”

While still warry, you approached the place behind the two overexcited shoppers, both who had stars in their eyes as someone from a novel would say. 

Deuce gazed around the place with wide eyes after opening the door where a little bell rang, “Pardon us! Whoa, what an amazing shop… Crystal skulls, magical texts, and… wh-what sort of animal is this…?” Deuce motioned to an animal’s skeleton that was just laying out on one of the shelves. Grim and Deuce took two steps closer to inspect the animal while you took two steps back. 

Grim, who began to travel by himself around the store, questioned Deuce and you, “Can we really find some fresh cream here?”

“I’d be surprised if we couldn't find it.” You opened a box that was filled with dusty books while nodding to Grim. 

Out of nowhere came a voice near the counter,  “Hey! Little lost lambs, what can I help you with? Welcome to Mr. S’s Mystery Shop.” The man had one of the oddest outfits with a bright pink shirt but then a black and dark purple jacket. His fashion sense was certainly new, but his vibe was what shocked you the most. Almost like he knew too much. What is it that you wish for today? A charm against cheating?” He pulled out a slip of paper from his chest pocket, “ An ancient king’s mirror?” a small mirror from his sleeve,  “Or maybe, some cursed tarot cards?” He even pulled a box out of thin air. 

Grim was frozen in shock for a moment and joined the conversation with a breath, “Ah, you startled me!”

You added on, “He reminds me of those characters from video games and movies that are just normal store owners or vendors that have some of the oddest items.” Looking at his shop, you believed yourself for a moment. 

The three of you made your way to the little counter at the back of the store. 

Deuce took out the list from his pocket and handed it to the man, “Um… We would like to buy the things written on this note.”

Grim used his arms to pull his face onto the counter as to be seen and begged,  “And I also want some canned tuna!”

“With what money?” You waved at him in disbelief,  “And I have a question for you, Mystery man.”

Deuce pushed Grim off of the counter,  “No! We will not buy any canned tuna!” which only caused Grim to growl at Deuce. 

The male scanned the note while tapping his finger in his chin,  “Mhmm. What do we have here? Fresh cream and eggs… Oh, my! What a pretty sweet line-up” He gave Deuce a thumbs up, “OK! I shall bring them out now. And I’ll get back to you in just a minute.” The male nodded at you with a small wink at the end of his sentence. 

Totally an odd vibe.

Deuce gasped in disbelief letting go of Grim’s fur,  “Whoa… Will he really have some here?”

You voiced your thoughts, “Maybe the back is just really big?”

The man returned with five bags full of items on your list, “Here, thank you for the wait. It is rather heavy, so are you sure you can carry them all?” The male, then gestured to a sign right next to the cash register about a special bag to carry all the items, “If you act now, I can throw in a special bag to carry all of those things for 30% off of its original price!” Deuce took out the money Trey gave him and handed it to the shopkeeper. 

Grim blurted out, “What did you say? Hey, that sounds interesting!” The cat grabbed your clothes as he normally does pointing at the sign to get your attention focused on it. 

Deuce shook his head while grabbing three of the five bags, “We. We will have to decline! Let’s go, Grim!”

“But why?! I wanna play more!” A pointing Grim was not resulting in a good day for anyone, but at this rate you couldn’t spend money on any food. 

“About that question,” You brought it up to the shopkeeper. 

The off-vibe man nodded,  “Ok, what's the problem, little lost lamb?”

You asked, “Do you sell uniforms or at least know where I can find one?”

“I should have some, but they're all used ones. I’ll even cut the price because of how damaged they are.” He then told you the price which was great for uniforms but as someone who owned no cash, not the best.

You thanked the male as you picked up the last two bags while the other two began to walk out, “Thanks! I’m gonna come back once I have the money, but please save them for me.” 

“Ok! of course, little lost lamb. I’ll have them in stock just for you.” He winked at you again, and at this point and time you’re just gonna assume it’s normal for him. 

“Thank you so much!!” You responded while finally walking out of the shop. 

Once outside, Deuce began a new conversation, “That was a very amazing shop, in a way…”

Grim was still pouting at the two of you for not giving him free food, “Boo, you two are so stingy.” His arms were snuggly crossed over one another and even his ears were flattened against his head. 

Deuce swung around to ask Grim, “Who are you calling stingy?!” This, however, almost resulted with Grim getting a concussion because of how the bag of canned fruits and heavy cream knocked Grim to the ground. 

Deuce quickly apologized, “Sorry!”

You placed your bag to check on Grim by feeling on his head for any bumps or any scrapes from the bag,  “Well, no one would give a brat what they want now would they? I know you want some tuna, but money is tight right now and I can’t get you any for a while. Once I save up enough, I promise I’ll get you some.” You brushed back his hair before flicking at his forehead, “Just remember to keep that ego in check. Soon, who knows, maybe I can even buy a hairbrush and maybe even a phone.”

 Deuce coughed before fixing the bags in his hold to reach his hand out to you, “The bag with the milks is heavy, isn’t it? I’ll hold it for you. I’m experienced with carrying heavy loads.”

You shook your head, “No way, lover boy, I can handle myself just so you know. And besides that's an odd area of expertise. Any reason why?” You kept walking to distract the male from taking your bag.

Deuce flushed red before starting his explanation, “Yeah, Mother always takes me with her during timed sales. She buys a lot, so I end up helping her with the bags. I’m the only man in the family, so I’m used to helping a lot with hard labor. Ah, I’m sorry… I keep talking about myself.” His face flushed even darker. 

You rolled your eyes, “That is incredibly sweet of you, Deuce. Don’t be scared to talk to me about anything. We’re friends. You must care for your mother a lot with how you talk about her.”

Deuce stuttered, “No… That’s not true at all. I… Mother was…” Deuce flies back onto the ground after connecting with someone’s chest, “Ouch!”

All of the materials that Deuce was holding fell to the ground, but the biggest problem was that the eggs were now completely broken and leaking everywhere on the sidewalk. 

Grim gasped and fell to his knees to try and save the groceries, “Ah, the eggs!!”

“Hey, you ok?” You reached out your hand to Deuce who grabbed it so that you could pull him up onto both of his feet. 

Deuce locked eyes on the bag of now broken eggs and cursed, “Damn it!” He picked up the bag of eggs and began to check to see if any of the eggs were not broken and could be used, “All the eggs in the carton broke! The plastic bag’s now reeking with eggs…!” Deuce tossed them in the trash while Grim squirmed to grab the bag from him. 

A white haired familiar looking male scoffed at the three of you, “That hurt! Where the hell’re ya lookin’ at,” His eyes darted to each member of your little group before continuing, “Wha? You’re the guys who ruined my carbonara’s soft-boiled egg during lunch today!” 

Another familiar red haired student was right on his side, “Damn, it’s you guys again. Ya better give us a break.” 

You grabbed as many bags as you could carry that Deuce had before, and you snorted, “And I thought I already crushed your egos, but I should have known you can't break a brick for a brain.”

The white haired boy snickered at the three of you, “Well it seems the little supervisor can’t even get us in trouble so no need for fear. You can’t harm us.” 

Deuce had been standing in place for the last couple of seconds with his eyes on his feet, “…Aren’t you the ones at fault for bumping into me?” His sharp gaze met that of the duo of delinquents, “Even during lunch. The egg wasn’t really that badly harmed, but you made a huge scene out of it. Our carton of eggs is totally ruined, though.” Deuce rolled up the sleeves to his jacket. 

Grim agreed standing as tall as he could across from the two upperclassmen, “He’s totally right!”

You walked over to where Deuce and Grim had made their little fighting stance, “Let’s just leave. They’re not gonna listen and we shouldn't get into a fight with idiots.” To further get Deuce’s attention, you pulled into the shoulder of his jacket to motion toward the bags, “We can always replace them. Let’s just get what we have back.”

The white haired boy swore, “The hell? You sayin’ it’s my fault, then? And idiots? I’m much smarter than any of you. Respect your elders!”

Deuce paid no mind to you or your constant poking on his shoulder, “Yes, please pay us back for the eggs. And also, please apologize to the chickens.”

“Hah?” The red haired boy quipped at Deuce, “Makin’ a ruckus over eggs, are we?”

Deuce grunts, “Hah?” before turning to you, “Remember the promise right?”

You nodded at him. 

“Then, back up.” He lightly pushed you to make you back up, “And don’t get involved.”  You locked eyes with the male only to see his eyebrows furrowed and a large scowl on your face. And as much as you wanted to help him and get him out of this situation, there’s nothing you can do against magic users. At least not yet.

The two other students did not realize how ready Deuce was to make this physical or how personal this was. 

The whit haired boy groaned, “It didn’t hit the ground so you can still eat it. Stop makin’ a fuss over little things.” The boy slapped his friend before whispering something to him. 

The other boy snickered before adding, “Ya better be thankful they broke inside the plastic bag!” 

“Not only are they dumb, but blind too,” You mumbled to yourself which Grim could hear from his small chortle. 

Deuce still had not lost his eye contact with the other two boys, seemingly eyeing them down to wait for the perfect moment. 

Both of the boys let out the largest giggles possible that a teenage boy could without sounding like girls gossiping with their heads thrown back and their hands clutching their stomachs. 

“Laughing at something that is surely your fault.” You rolled your eyes while trying to get the boy’s attention on Deuce who was in your eyes about to murder a bitch, “I think you should just pay us back for it. Maybe some extra too for having to deal with your terrible attitude to even it out.” 

Neither student responded to you only grunting out stiffles of laughter for the next couple of seconds. 

Deuce muttered to himself breaking eye contact with the two to gaze down at his hand which was clenched like in one of those TV shows when a character is going to do something he regrets, “... Mess with me, will you…”

White haired kid raises his eyebrows in confusion as Deuce looks to be slowly going insane,  “Huh?”

Deuce exploded at the two, “I told you to stop laughing, damn it!!” His feet began to move closer and closer to the two who just stood in horror for the boy who was once silent, “You ain’t got no choice but to apologize for something that’s your fault! These eggs will be used to make a delicious tart in place of turning into chicks, bastard!! Do you understand me, huh!?”

“Wh-what’s with him all of a sudden…?!” The red haired boy was backing away from the approaching student and had a look of disbelief on his face. 

Deuce grabbed his fist in one hand and cracked the knuckles of the other one, “If you’re not gonna pay me back for the 6 eggs, I got no choice but to beat the hell out of you six times.”

The white haired male faltered, “Huh!?” before seeing the blue haired male coming straight for him with his fists in a fighting position. 

 “Grit your teeth, you little bastards!!” And with that Deuce began his little fight by pulling at the kid’s clothes and punching them a little too hard.

“Where does that phrase even come from?” But what could you do besides stand there and wait even if you didn’t want the two to get hurt going into the fight now would be harmful.

You really need to stop getting involved in fights. 

[prime-pulse]

Mayhaps some more Uncle Clouse content if you want? Or maybe the Snake Fam finding out about Skylor’s powers?

I can NEVER say no to writing some snake family content !!

"You're getting slower." Clouse remarked as he set down a bucket of fish— which he and Garmadon had caught from the nearby river for dinner that night— on the kitchen island, wringing the river water out of his hair onto the floor.

"Being kept up all night by a four year old," Garmadon yawned as he followed Clouse into the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head, "Will do that to you, you know."

"More like a lack of training." Clouse remarked, rolling his eyes and beginning to get straight to work on washing and preparing the fish from the bucket. Garmadon offered a light snicker, walking toward the counter to begin setting up the cutting boards and knives the two would need.

Things had died down in the last few years, nobody in the Garmadon or Chen family's backs since a few months after Lloyd had been born. It had been nice to live quietly, and relatively comfortably, in the middle of nowhere— no bustling big city and no nosy neighbors to pry in on dark magic use or one of the household member's hands becoming more Oni-like by the day; nobody to criticize the patriarch's nonsensical traps around the house or to send building-code violations to the city about them all. The only real struggle was dealing with two growing children who were getting more and more antsy about being cooped up in the monastery day after day.

"Ohh, salmon!" A tiny voice remarked, followed by the sound of quick steps into the kitchen. Garmadon turned his attention to see Skylor peering up at the bucket of fish on the island, a grin on his face.

"And plenty of it, too." He proudly remarked, stabbing his knife into the cutting board before walking over to Skylor, hoisting her up in his arms so she could get a better look at the fish, "You want to help your Uncle Clouse wash them?" He remarked, earning a scoff from Clouse as he dropped one of the fish into the sink.

"No, he says I can’t clean the gills right. I’m better at helping de-bone." Skylor said after a moment of thought, studying the fish in the bucket, "It's more fun to do that, anyway! Fish are covered in— slime and stuff!"

"Mucus." Clouse corrected as he began to scrub away at the mucus on the salmon in his hands.

"Yeah, slime." Garmadon nodded with a grin, Skylor giggling to herself as Clouse turned around, holding the salmon by the tail with his eyebrow raised.

"Slime and mucus are two vastly different things," He said with a sneer, "Slime is slippery, and usually only produced by things like algae or plants--" He continued as he slapped the fish down onto his cutting board, Skylor and Garmadon exchanging amused looks, "Mucus, on the other hand, is sticky, and usually produced to keep skin moisturized where it usually wouldn’t be—"

Skylor raised her hand, Garmadon then nodding to her with a serious expression, "Skylor has a question."

"But fish are... In the water all the time, so are frogs, why would they need to be covered in slime?"

"Mucus, my dear," Clouse corrected again as he drew his knife, beginning to prepare the fish, "You know how your fingers get pruned when you’re in the water too long, and you’re itchy afterward? Water is wet, but it takes the moisture from your skin if you’re in it too long. We don’t make mucus all over our bodies, so we have things like... Lotion, and moisturizer. To help."

"You read a lot." Garmadon remarked after a moment, Skylor snorting and covering her mouth as she giggled. Clouse only turned to glare at Garmadon before returning to the fish.

"Someone here ought to. You would all be lost without me." He hummed, Garmadon mimicking him behind his back, much to the amusement of Skylor.

"Lost, but having fun!" Garmadon quipped with a charming smile, "Like calling mucus slime, how it ought to be called."

At this point Skylor broke out into laughter, Clouse driving his knife into the cutting board before turning around to begin lecturing Garmadon on the difference between slime and mucus in detail, which only caused Skylor to begin laughing even harder.

But suddenly, Garmadon felt something cold— /very/ cold, a familiar cold in his arms. Before he could glance down, the bucket containing the rest of the fish— the metal bucket— shattered like glass all over the island, leaving behind thin purple smoke and a cold aura. And just like that, the laughter and conversation stopped, and the cold disappeared from what was being held in Garmadon's arms.

Clouse's first instinct was to look to Garmadon, but Garmadon cut him off before he could speak. "That wasn't me. I’d know if that was me. Id be able to—" He shook his head before looking down at Skylor, who looked more bewildered than the both of them. She was flexing her tiny hands in confusion— before she began to look fearful, turning her head to look between the others for answers.

"... I... I see." Was all Clouse said after a moment, quickly scanning both Skylor and Garmadon to see if any of the metal had hit them. After confirming they were clear, he nodded, looking... A bit dazed, if anything. "I'll go get Master Chen— and Misako." He said after another moment, shaking his hands as if they had water on them before ducking out of the room.

"What... Did I do that? Was that...?" Skylor began, Garmadon shuffling away from the metal... Shards on the ground and island.

"We... I..." Garmadon searched for words, but found he had none. "Your father can... Do you remember what your father said about me, me and your mother, being elementals?"

"... Kind'of...?"

"How we told you about your mom's power? How she could copy anyone’s power she touched?" Garmadon looked toward her, a bit lost on what to do. He’d never had to give a child a serious talk before, he was still new to the whole 'dad' thing himself. He felt awkward.

"Can... Can I do that?"

Before Garmadon could answer, the sound of Chen yammering excitedly filled the hall outside the kitchen, followed by his own quick footsteps and Clouse's worried muttering.

"... We're about to find out for sure. Assuming that I didn’t do that on accident."

[insomniamamma]

Liminal: Ezra and Cee

A/N: Contemporary AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's caretaker after an automobile accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Same AU as "Ferris wheels are for old people." No reader insert character, just Ezra and Cee on the road. Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ ‘s Writer’s Wednesday.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma/injury. Drug references in a song. Some language. I tried to research body powered transhumeral prosthetics to get some idea of how Ezra's prosthetic arm might work, but then I fell into an overthinking morass, any inaccuracies are mine.

"Willin'" is written by Lowell George. The version referenced in the story is recorded by Linda Ronstadt.

lim·i·nal /ˈlimənl/

adjective: liminal

   1.relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process.    2.occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.

--"Willin'"--

          "’... been warped by the rain, driven by the snow,’" Cee sings along with the music rattling through the truck's speakers, "I'm drunk and dirty, don't you know. But I'm still willin'..."

        The road stretches long and straight in front of them, harsh, rust-colored land dotted with scrub under the arc of an impossibly blue sky. Ezra asked Cee to compile the playlist. You are my co-pilot for this mission, he'd told her, and as such your duties include, but are not limited to, navigator, snack supervisor and DJ. DJ? Really? Make us a playlist, Little Bird, every adventure needs some good road music. And she had really delivered.          "’...Out on the road late last night, I'd see my pretty Alice in every headlight, Alice, Dallas Alice...’"  Ezra'd expected hours of auto-tuned pop or loud screamy music where he couldn't understand the words, and while there was some of that, Cee had taken her duties as DJ very seriously, creating a huge genre-bending list that all worked together.

     He knew a lot of it. When he was still weird Uncle Ezra and not Legal Guardian Ezra, Cee made a habit of pawing through his vinyl collection when she and Damon would visit, picking a record to play and then peppering him with questions about it. Still, some of the tracks she picked surprised him, like this one, Linda Ronstadt's version of "Willin'" a road trip anthem if there ever was one, but something he didn't expect Cee to be familiar with.  On their first go through the playlist, he'd asked her, where'd you hear this one, Birdie? You remember that movie, The Abyss? It's in that movie, the director's cut though, not the theatrical cut, the theatrical cut is bullshit--and he'd just listened to her go off about all the things wrong with the theatrical cut, the movie itself he barely remembered, something about divers finding aliens underwater, he'd listened and grinned, Cee could go so quiet sometimes. It was always a relief to hear her sound alive and interested, especially after--          "’And I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari," Cee sings and Ezra joins her, "Tehachapi to Tonopah...’" Cee's voice is sweet. Ezra's voice is not, but that's never stopped him. They've got the windows down. The AC started smelling funny a couple days ago, and, in this part of the world, a breeze to evaporate the sweat is just as good as AC. Cee's hair makes a flyaway halo as they sing--          "’Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made, Driven the backroads so I wouldn't get weighed. And if you give me...’" Ezra and Cee smile at each other, suck in deep breaths for the big chorus, "’...Weed, whites and wine, and you show me a sign...And I'll be willin' to be movin'"

--Petroglyph--

       The rust colored forms on pale stone walls peer out at them. Some loom large in the foreground, others recede into the background as if the weathered rock is a portal a window into some other place that lives just below the skin of the world. The back of Ezra's neck prickles. Sometimes the world is thin. Sometimes he feels as if there is a larger world moving and shifting beneath the surface of this one. Sometimes he feels like things are happening out of order, reality stripping and skipping like a loose bicycle chain--        Cee's warm hand creeps into his, "They're a little scary, aren't they?" She says.        "Indeed they are," says Ezra, "One has to wonder what they were thinking. What they were trying to say. Are these gods in these pictures? Or just regular men?"        "Does it matter?" Asks Cee, and he jerks his head to look at her. She is utterly entranced by the red figures and sigils.        "Of course it does," he says, "You don't think so?"        "I mean, it matters, I guess, but what matters more is that people made these," she says, "People like us. People with hands. Not that Ancient Aliens bullshit." Ezra laughs. Cee squeezes his hand.        "C'mon," she says, "let's see more."

--Rest Stop--

       "Hey MOM!," a child's voice snaps Ezra out of his reverie. Cee is in the truck stop, using the restroom and restocking their snack supply. At these stops he fuels up and then gives her some cash and sets her loose inside. And then they stretch their legs and sit outside for a spell. Ezra sits at a picnic bench letting the sun hit his closed eyelids, "MOM! That guy's got a ROBOT ARM! Like WINTER SOLDIER!" Ezra opens his eyes to a little boy, maybe four with a bunch of curly hair and big eyes, pointing at him.        "Daniel!" His mother hisses, and pinches at his arm, "That's rude. I'm so sorry. Danny, what did I tell you about staring--"        "Ma'am? It's quite alright, Ma'am," says Ezra, and hunkers down so he's eye level with the little boy.        "Hi there," he says, "Daniel, is it? I'm Ezra." He offers his right arm, the double hook at the end open, titanium alloy padded with silicone. Daniel solemnly grips the hooks and shakes.        "You've got stickers!" Says Daniel, and for a second Ezra is confused, and then he grins, looking down at the bedecked black plastic of his prosthesis. He stands.        "My girl decided that I must have a sticker for every state we stop in," says Ezra, he stands and smiles at Daniel's mom, "Like an old steamer trunk. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name--"        Cee steps out of the air-conditioned cavern of the truck stop, slits her eyes against the brightness of midday sun glittering up from the concrete, plastic bags full of crap-snacks and energy drinks threaded over her arms. Ezra handed her a couple twenties and told her to go nuts. Re-supply runs have turned into their own sort of game. She always grabs the usual stuff, chips and Snickers bars and Paydays (Ezra has an absolute weakness for Paydays. They don't taste like they used to, he'd griped, but that didn't stop him from eating them), but somewhere along the line, Cee decided to turn this into a battle of the wills. Her unspoken mission is to find something so utterly weird at one of these stops that Ezra won't eat it. So far, she has been unsuccessful. The closest thing was an aloe juice and cucumber drink that smelled amazing, but felt like swallowing cold snot. That one was a draw. She has high hopes for the dill pickle-sriracha gummy worms nestled in the bottom of the bag. The packaging looked like Christmas in hell. More important than the snacks is the plain, flat paper bag she holds.                                                                                     Ezra's near the picnic benches chattering at some lady with a kid. Menace, she thinks, but smiles. Ezra was always the extrovert before, and it's good to him smiling so big and open in the sunshine, making friends with random people at a truck stop. She sees an echo of her and him before, when she and Dad would visit when she was small and he'd tell her some outrageous tale and she'd say Uncle Ezra, you're so weird, and he'd scoop her up and swing her around, planting a prickly kiss on her cheek and saying oh, little bird, you have no idea, and this always made Dad laugh.

       "Oh, Ez-ra," Cee calls, and when he turns, he sees her devilish grin, holding a small brown paper bag up beside her face like it's contraband, "Look what I found."         "So I get to witness the sacred stickering?" Asks Ezra's new friend.        "Indeed you do," says Ezra, "This is Cee. Cee, meet Jody, and that little man playing in the dirt there is Daniel."        "Nice to meet you," says Cee, "Stick your arm out, old man."        "Don't you want to document this momentous occasion?"        "Oh, right," Cee pulls out her phone, "Hey, uh, miss Jody? Can you take some video? I got it all set up."        "Cee is documenting our adventures for posterity," says Ezra. He extends his prosthetic, already covered in overlapping ovoids, enough that they are starting to resemble dragon scales, "What do you think?" Cee and Daniel circle round.        "How bout here?" asks Daniel, tapping just above the articulated elbow.        "That's a good spot," says Cee and peels the sticker from it's backing with a flourish. She smiles up at her phone recording in a stranger's hand, "We have now infiltrated the state of Nevada," she grins, "Evil-doers beware."        "Yeah!" Says the little boy, pudgy hands planted on his hips for the benefit of the camera, "Or Winter Soldier will KICK YOUR ASS!"        "Daniel!"

--Stars--

       Cee wakes in the dead of night, disoriented, a darkness so thick that for a moment she's not sure where she is, and then she hears Ezra's rhythmic snoring off to her side, reaches out and brushes fabric of the tent and lays back, puzzled, muscles pleasantly sore from a day spent scrabbling up and down eroded granite boulders that looked like they belonged on Mars or Tatooine, walking trails and marveling at the strange ecology of the high-desert, so unlike back home. Bad dream? She wonders, probably. She feels her eyes getting heavy, feels herself lulled by Ezra's sleep sounds, snores punctuated by mumbles. Sometimes full sentences, his side of whatever dream-conversation he's having. Probably has no idea he does it--        Cee sits bolt upright, hands clutched in fists against her chest, a high-pitched wail cuts the cold night, a sound like a woman screaming, and another wail threads through the first, so loud it could be right outside the tent, and then a sound like gruesome laughter. The back of her neck prickles and her heart pounds in her throat. She tells herself that it's just some wild animal making noise, some desert bird maybe, but wasn't the California desert the last known home of the Manson family? Maybe not this desert, but still--        "Ezra," she hisses, and he mumbles something incoherent, "Ezra, wake up!" She reaches and pokes him hard, "Ezra!"        "Whazzit birdie?"        "Listen!" The screams rise and fall again like something from a horror movie.        "s'just coyotes," says Ezra, "probly next county over. They don't hurt people, they're just loud."        "You sure?"        "Go back to sleep, Cee."

       "Ezra," He's dreaming, some place with Joshua trees the size of skyscrapers, spiked limbs under a red sky. Cee's with him somewhere in the bloodlight but he can't see her, just hears her calling--        "Ezra!" He blinks awake, the red sky receding. Cee is shaking him.        "Yuh. M'awake birdie,"        "I gotta pee," she says.        "You know where the outhouses are, just right down the trail,"        "I'm not going by myself! Not with those things out there!" Ezra pushes himself up and shakes his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He can just make out Cee's form against the faint light of the sky leaking through the tent.        "Alright, just gimme a second," he says.        "I'll get the light,"        "We don't need it," he says.        "Ez-"        "We got night eyes now," he says, "No light pollution out here. You'll see."

       Ezra stands transfixed in the chill dark, head cocked upward. The more he looks, the more he can see. More stars than he's ever seen in his life spread across the vast inverted bowl of the sky, no summer haze out here, no light-wash from streetlights. He is dizzy with it, the vast sweep of the sky, and as he stares and his eyes adjust further, he can see the arm of the Milky Way angled across the black, can actually see the dark band of dust threaded through the silver-blue light. He doesn't hear the outhouse door shutting, doesn't notice Cee beside him until she folds his hand into hers.        "Look up, Little Bird," he breathes and it feels like a prayer, his heart suddenly full, squeezing in his chest, Cee small and warm next to him.        "Oh, wow," she says, barely a whisper, "That's the Milky Way isn't it?" Tears blur the stars and fall hot against his cheeks.        "It is." He looks at her, her face upturned, cheeks and hair frosted in star shine, limning her eyes, her smile. They've lost so much, him and Cee, but they've gained each other, and that's not nothing is it?        "We're so small," says Cee, "Us. People. This whole planet. All of us. We're just a little dot." Ezra smiles in the dark, even as tears dry in his lashes. He squeezes her fingers in his.        "C'mon, let's get back in the tent before we freeze."

--Hoodoo--

       Cee sleeps in the passenger's seat. She'd helped break camp and pack everything up even though it was early for her. They had spent an extra night in Joshua Tree and now had to make up the difference. It's time to go home. There are things he wants to do before Cee goes back to school, things they need to take care of. So he woke them early, promising Cee that she could sleep in the car as long as she needed. She'd helped him get ready, half-peeling a couple candy bars and putting them were he could easily reach.        "You want the playlist?" She asked, "I can get it going."        "Not right now. I want some quiet."          “'Kay," and Cee was asleep before they were to the next mile marker.

       Hoodoos rise on either side of the highway, striated red cliffs against the slowly lightening sky, cut into improbable formations by long gone rivers, thin spires topped with boulders, first glints of sun hitting the higher cliffs while everything else still exists in that liminal space between day and night. Ezra glances over at Cee, hair in a messy halo, face slack in sleep, cheeks sun-reddened and newly freckled, closed eyes moving, dreaming. Ezra thinks of those first days, wracked with pain and trying to navigate the new, dark-shrowded territory of her and him, each of them crippled by loss, each willing to lash out at the other. Ezra thinks of how far they've come since then, uncurling like relaxing fists and learning to be with each other. They drive into the dawn and the first bit of light touches her hair, turning it to fire. She shifts in her sleep, turning away from that first hint of sun. He doesn't know if she's awake or not.        "I love you, Cee."        "Love you to, Ez," she murmurs and settles back into sleep. Ezra looks out over hoodoo country spread red tinged and stark against the rising light, the miles of road ahead. We're gonna be ok, he thinks and means it.

[darkpoisonouslove]

The Light in You Is Shining in My Eyes

Summary: Robin is annoyed with the conditions of the nature hike she’s on when she falls through a hole in the ground to discover the domain of a nymph. The short encounter changes her life when she’s touched by Alice’s spirit and kindness.

Special credit to the guest stars of this fanfic - mosquitoes. They are playing a very important role in the lives of our leading ladies. XD

For @intothewickedwood​. I wish you all the best and many, many smiles!

The leaves rustling in the wind were drowned out by the laughter of large friend groups taking selfies and screaming children on family hikes but the cloud of mosquitoes surrounding Robin buzzed in her ears over all of that. Waving her hands to chase them away was like sticking them in the beast's mouth. Mosquito bites covered her like a map of her blood flow and the thin flannel shirt over her tank top only stuck to her skin with sweat to irritate her rather than protect her.

There was an unusual presence of mosquitoes at the spot where she was growing roots as if to taunt her. Killian had left her there to the annoying and hungry insects to follow up the fox tracks he'd spotted. Walking away was an option but the worst one. Having a phone on him didn't do much when Killian was a technological disaster so she had to wait around if she didn't want to lose him. Her mom would kill them both over the phone at the smallest mishap. Even the little pricks preying on her blood were preferable to never being let out of her room again, let alone Storybrooke.

A mosquito landed on her arm where she'd pushed the shirt off her shoulder. Robin got it before it could bite her smearing it over her skin. Her face twisted in disgust as her fingers brushed it away and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other as if that could help her escape.

She froze at a loud crack under her feet but to no avail. She plunged through the crumbling ground.

Great! Down the rabbit hole was the last thing she needed. Underground roots tugged at her hair and whipped at her hands when she raised them. There was no avoiding the hard soil under her weight or the sharp-edged stones poking her but she could protect her face and her glasses. Her heart pounded in her ears over her own screaming.

Her feet hit the ground to send the impact rattling up her bones. She was thrown forward, down into a pile of damp leaves. The smell of decay hit her from the heap of brown, yellow and red to give her a boost.

She pushed herself up on all fours. She was a breath away from a thick trunk in front of her. A few more inches and she would've face-planted into a tree. A very peculiar tree.

A woman's face was carved into it, though it could hardly be the work of a human hand or mind. Every line and curve was one with the tree bark as if shaped into it from the inside of the trunk rather than hacked into it with a blade. The woman's features were detailed despite the gentility with which they were imprinted in the tree and made her look ethereal. Like a work of art brought to life.

Robin squinted at the faint light trying to make out more before she lifted her head to look for the source. She'd fallen underground but all that was above her head was a thick net of intertwined tree branches that formed the ceiling of a tunnel. The light was coming from somewhere above, golden-white like a whisper of sun rays. It was far from bright or sufficient.

Robin pushed herself up to her knees to fish her phone out of her jeans' pocket. In the light of the screen a scratch on her hand caught her eye. She hadn't felt it through the rush of adrenaline but it wasn't the only one. She was covered in shallow slashes on her exposed skin and where her jeans and shirt had ripped. One of her bracelets had torn off as well from the fall but she ignored them. She could only have them tended to once she was back on the surface.

Focusing on her phone left her rolling her eyes at the different notifications from social media waiting for her before she'd even unlocked it. She'd told her so-called friends she was taking a hiatus on all her platforms while traveling to distance herself from the routine of Storybrooke. Yet her phone was still a receptacle for gossip that bored her to death and performative acts of friendship.

She swiped aside the notifications to get to the flashlight. It shined light into the endless darkness of the tunnel and Robin raised it towards the face in the tree.

"Hey! Stop that!" a loud voice sent her hurtling back, phone dropping in the pile of dead leaves while her heart pounded all around her in the black absence of her flashlight.

"What the bloody hell?" Robin groaned as a sturdy root poking from the ground stabbed her in the small of her back.

The tree bark stretched in front of her to shape the rest of the woman and fell back into a normal trunk when she phased out of it. "Oh, no, none of that in my park."

Robin shuffled backwards, mouth gaping open. "Wh-what are you?" her fingers dug in the ground, the pain rushing through them doing nothing to snap her out of... whatever this was. If she had to guess, she'd hit her head in the tree and had dreamed up everything after that. Either that or she'd breathed in something highly questionable rummaging around Killian's boat.

"What? What? What a rude question! I am not a what," the woman spoke fast, her diction and tone the embodiment of time if Robin had ever imagined what it would sound like. "My name is Alice and I'm a tree nymph and guardian of this park."

Robin had read about nymphs in a book her mom had borrowed from her sister. All she could recall was that they were nature spirits that lived in trees. That was true enough but she had no idea whether she should work on returning her heart back in her chest from her throat or yelling for help with all the might of her lungs.

"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered. She swallowed quickly under Alice's calm gaze. "You just startled me." She wasn't menacing but that didn't mean she wasn't dangerous.

"Well, you were shining that flashlight in my eyes."

Right. Her phone. She'd have to grope around for it since the leaves had swallowed its light. Or she'd broken it.

"You're familiar with phones?" Robin's eyebrows rose high on her forehead.

"Thousands of people come here every day and they all bring phones with them. It would be impossible to miss it. I'd have to turn away from the park. Were you looking at your phone when you missed the hole in the ground?"

"No." Robin patted her hands down on her jeans. She'd already destroyed those. She could leave all the dust on them to keep it away from her glasses and hair. "I was trying to get rid of a mosquito."

"You failed in that," Alice was staring at her like she could see not just the outside of her in the dark but also the inside. "There's still some of it left on your arm."

Robin's face contorted again at the proof of Alice's words as she swiped her fingers over her arm. "How did you-"

"I told you. I'm the guardian of this park. I'm connected to all life here. I felt that mosquito die as you squashed it," her voice quieted and a gleam of light reflected in the wetness in her eyes. It was deafening in the aura of strength she exuded. As if all life stopped to pay its respects to a little insect.

"I'm sorry," Robin fiddled with the loose ends of her shirt. She hadn't meant to do that. She hadn't meant to disturb her.

"Don't apologize to me. It's the mosquito you wronged but apologies won't bring back its life."

Robin frowned. "It was going to bite me."

"That's what mosquitoes do. Would you kill a person for eating food or drinking water?"

"But it's... different," Robin faltered under the power of Alice's resolve. She'd never raised her voice. It just echoed around them like it reached every inch of the park, like it was a part of it. "Mosquitoes aren't-"

"They aren't important? And what is important? Not the mosquitoes, not the bees, not the sea turtles, not the melting ice caps, not the rain forests, not the ozone layer, not Earth, not anything," her voice sped up with the anxious energy seeping into it. She wasn't angry. She was distressed.

Robin's mouth hung open as her eyes filled with tears at her loss for words. Someone who was one with nature was so shaken from the things that Robin closed her eyes to when she didn't have the power to change them singlehandedly. And Alice for all her understanding and care for life couldn't change them either.

"Robin," Killian's voice dropped from the hole like a lifeline to grab on to before she or Alice could break down. "Are you down there, lass?"

Robin looked up the hole she'd fallen through. There was nothing but darkness as all the twists and turns got in the way of the light coming in. "Yeah, I'm here, Killian," Robin yelled back, chest moving easier with the relief that he'd found her.

"I'll get you out of there. Do you think you'll be able to get out if I let down a rope for you?"

"Yes, that should work." There was no other plausible option even if neither of them knew how deep she'd fallen. Killian had tons of rope on his boat. The question was how quickly he'd be able to carry them over. It wasn't a short distance to the docks on the route they'd taken.

Robin turned back to Alice to find a question clearly etched on her face. "He's a close friend of my mom and aunt's. He instantly agreed to take me on his trip when I asked to join him." It was a miracle she'd convinced her mom to let her go.

Alice nodded. "Sounds good. But you won't be able to climb up like that. Your ankle's sprained. Can't you feel it?"

Robin stared at Alice's face. Her constant concern with all life around her should have carved deep lines in her skin but it only lit her eyes up like stars in the dark tunnel. Maybe she was the source of the dim light, though if it were her, there would have been a shine brighter than the sun above.

Robin tried her ankle at the reminder of the climb awaiting her. "Ow!" she whimpered at the charge of pain shooting through her. "You're right. I won't be climbing up that hole."

"Hold still," Alice knelt down next to her slowly as if to keep from scaring her.

In the proximity Robin's eyes caught on the material of Alice's dress. She'd assumed it was somehow her hair twisted and braided around her body due to the similar color but it was strands of dry grass instead. A summer coming to an end.

"I'll heal it," Alice startled her back to reality.

Robin opened her mouth to ask how but Alice was already rolling her jeans up. She locked her hands around the exposed skin to pour energy into it. A ring of waves closed around Robin's ankle, each washing away the pain and swelling little by little.

"How do you do that?" Robin gasped, her chest barely moving in the delicate balance of the magical process even if there was nothing fragile in Alice's concentration.

"Nymph magic."

"Whoa!"

"You don't believe me?" Alice looked up at her, eyes so blue she could have captured the whole ocean in them.

"I do. That's the thing." Robin could feel the magic working its... well, magic. And even if she couldn't, she'd believe whatever Alice told her. She was genuine in a striking way that didn't cancel out her gentleness. There wasn't the rawness of cynicism and jadedness Robin had seen in her mom and aunt and anyone else who used the truth to slap you in the face with it. Alice was just honest because it was her nature just as empathy and tenderness were. All that was left a mystery was what she wanted with Robin. For someone so genuine she sure wasn't easy to read.

"Why are you helping me?"

"I've always liked robins." Alice smiled, more to herself than to Robin. "Though, you're the most prickly one I've met."

"I'm not... I'm not prickly." At least she wasn't trying to be. "And I'm not a robin." All she could make fly were arrows.

"Humans are a part of nature, too. And all nature is beautiful and needs preservation." Alice looked up at the tree branches–or were they roots?–or what lay above them. "It pains me to see the direction in which the human race is driving the entire planet. It didn't use to be like that. People were one with nature. Now they're trying to escape from it and sacrifice it in the name of progress. When nature is progress, it is growth, it is life."

"How would you solve the problem then?" Robin had always been put off by the radical notions of exterminating humankind to let Earth heal. And leaving behind her environment hadn't worked for her on a personal level either.

"By being kinder and valuing the life of every person, every animal and every plant. By respecting nature and working with it, not against it. By giving it in return as much as you take from it. It is a powerful force but it is not unlimited, you know?" Alice's hands retreated from Robin's ankle and she buried them in the leaves around them. The perfect proof of her words. Her domain along with all nature above ground and even her outfit were cycling through different seasons to replenish their energy. "It needs tending to and someone to take care of it once in a while just as it takes care of everything and everyone."

Alice pulled her hand out of the fallen leaves with Robin's phone clasped in it. The flashlight was still on and blinded Robin as Alice handed it to her. She understood Alice's frustration from before.

"How old are you?" she asked, fingers curling around her phone desperately It was only Alice's face in front of her that kept her eyes away from the screen in pursuit of some clue to the answer.

"You really are a rude one, aren't you?" Alice teased, a grin from one ear to the other on her face. She probably didn't get a lot of company.

"Wow, that old, huh?" Robin chuckled. "Well, you do look spectacular for your age." She was a vision. Robin was lucky she hadn't hit her head and missed all of this. A dark and humid underground tunnel that was the home of the kindest soul she'd ever met.

"The light comes from the trees above," Alice explained when she noticed her staring at them. So those were roots then on the ceiling of the tunnel. "They spare some of theirs for me and my tree. Just enough to let me live," Alice smiled brightly even as she was starting to fade. Her energy came from the light and there wasn't that much of it as the sun must have started to set.

"Robin," Killian's voice reached her again. "I got the rope. Here you go."

Dirt fell from the hole as the rope skidded down before it unrolled in Robin's feet. There was even some length to spare as Robin scurried to turn off her flashlight and shove her phone back in her pocket to grab the rope.

"Thank you," she looked to Alice. "Looks like I have to go. At least if we want you to stay hidden." That had to be the reason why her tree was in the tunnel of roots with barely any light reaching it.

"Goodbye," Alice clasped her hands in front of her before raising one to wave stiffly.

Robin would abandon the rope and run into her arms to remain tangled in the tree roots if it wouldn't alert the world above to Alice's existence. She nodded and climbed into the hole.

"Take care, little robin. You can do more than you know," Alice's voice had the rope slipping in her sweaty palms.

Robin craned her neck back for a last peek but Alice was gone, retired to her tree. Her face was the only thing showing in the bark, her eyes staring upwards into the mellow glow of light coming from the roots of her park.

Robin pulled herself up, arms wailing as she climbed. She had to press her back to one end of the hole and her feet into the other to push herself up. She was an archer, not a body builder. Her back would be bruised from all the roots and stones poking it on her way up and she chaffed her palms on the rope.

She must have fallen into the very core of the Earth with how long it took her to make her way out The hole was cramped and claustrophobic and the only thing that kept her going was the certainty in the pit of her stomach that there would be no Alice to heal her if she plummeted back down. Nearly losing her glasses as she glanced down convinced her to train her gaze on the passage above her and light finally hit her eyes.

Killian grabbed her hand and then her arms to pull her out. All her muscles burned as she sprawled on the ground.

"Are you okay?" His concerned face blocked out the trees above her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Robin heaved out while her senses adapted to the brightness and loud noises along with all the different smells.

A mosquito landed on the back of her hand. She winced at its bite but left it to its devices. It was only doing what was natural for mosquitoes.

"Here, you dropped your bracelet," Killian handed her the offensive thing in blue and white. It was from a girl she'd never liked and belonged in the trash. She'd worn it to keep up appearances because it'd mattered to her whether the people that were hardly her friends liked her or not. It'd mattered until she'd fallen down the rabbit hole.

Looking at her hand, the mosquito was gone to differ from the bracelets. They were the real parasites. Out of the twelve she still had on only one or two called smiles to her face. The rest were coming right off.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Killian asked as he watched her tug on them like she'd lost her mind.

"I'm fine," she repeated. Better than ever. The mist in her head was clearing to leave her with ideas. All the followers she had on her social platforms keeping up with her archery achievements would be the perfect audience for a new ecological lifestyle she wanted to start. That would be the meaningful thing she'd been looking for all along to expand her consciousness and her world. And she had only Alice to thank for opening her eyes. Thank goodness for phones and flashlights you could shine in a tree nymph's eyes.

[marvel-ousfairy]

“Flesh eating plants, are you kidding me???” NALU Oneshot

Author’s Note: Ummm... So I don’t normally post my own writings, but I wrote this literally years ago and figured it was about time I posted it. Better late then never, right? *Chuckles nervously* Anyways, there are a few plot holes and things but I’m honestly too lazy to change it sooo, here you go! Let me know what y’all think. (Also I appologize in advance for any wierd formatting issues. I blame Tumblr.)

Warnings: Fighting, angst with a fluffy ending, killer plants? idk what else to put haha. If you read it and think there are any other warnings I should add, please please let me know.

Pairing(s): NaLu

_____

“Open, Gate of the Golden Bull: Taurus!” Lucy Heartfilia shouted, summoning the celestial spirit to her side.

“Mooo! It’s nice to see you again, Miss Luuucy.” Her celestial spirit, Taurus, drawled as the golden light of Lucy’s magic dissipated.

A large crash echoed through the forest near Magnolia as Lucy dove to avoid getting hit by a thick plant root, only a gaping hole left of the earth where she previously stood.

“Not the time,” Lucy panted before struggling to her feet again. “I need you to get in there and snap those vines!” she directed.

Celestial Wizard Lucy Heartfilia, her partner Fire Dragon Slayer Natsu Dragneel, and their cat companion, Happy, had taken a simple job helping out a local farmer. The request had asked for a few wizards to come assist in the extermination of the vermin rampaging through the owner’s crops.

“Stop pouting,” she said as the trio walked through town towards the agricultural district. “At least you get to beat something up.” She smiled, glancing around at the fruit and vegetable stalls lining the streets.

The pink haired wizard crossed his arms before letting out an offended huff. “I’m a dragon slayer, not an exterminator.” He whined.

The blonde let out a giggle, ignoring his petulant child act. Her laughter didn’t last long, however. Upon their arrival at the little farm, the trio soon realized that things weren’t as they appeared. Much to Lucy’s horror and Natsu’s delight, the vermin that needed bashing turned out to be full-fledged, plant-based monsters.

“’Let’s do it’ I said. ‘This will be easy’ I said. How does a Venus Flytrap even grow this large?” Lucy grumbled as she jumped over another stream of murderous plant roots. Finally finding solid ground, she pointed Taurus towards the twisted nether of roots and stems that kept the frightening flora grounded. Meanwhile, Natsu busied himself with torching the other five or so reanimated plants that littered the forests edge.

“Fire Dragon: Roar!” He let out a manic laugh as his flames transformed an entire line of trees into glittering torches, burning friend and foe indiscriminately.  

“Natsu, watch where you’re aiming,” Lucy scolded, letting loose a disgruntled shout as she once again narrowly missed a blow to the side via killer plants. The self-proclaimed farmer, apparently, was a wizard himself who specialized in foreign herbs with magical properties. Their current foes were the result of his latest creations gone very wrong.

“We already owe a great deal in repair costs as it is. The master will kill us if we burn down another building,” she reminded him, hand on her hip.

“Yeah, Yeah.” Natsu shrugged as he incinerated yet another row of trees and crops.  “Stop with your naggin’ already. We’ll be fi– Hey Lucy, watch out!” The dragon slayer let out a roar as Lucy whipped around. A faint gasp swept past her lips as a verdant blur crossed her vision. Pain ricocheted down her left side as a stray vine from the Flytrap knocked her to the ground, tangling with her legs and whipping her towards the Venus’ awaiting jaws.

“Argh,” Natsu screamed, face contorted in anger. “Fire Dragon: Wing Attack!” The vines that dug at her skin, slowly encroaching upon her torso, were suddenly engulfed in flame and burnt to a crisp. She yelped as Natsu’s flames left her stranded in the open air. With nothing left to catch her fall, she plummeted back down to the rigid ground, her head smacking against the dirt with a harsh crack. A muffled yowl came from beneath her and she rolled over to find a disgruntled Happy scowling back at her.

“You alright, Luce?” Natsu questioned, finishing off the last of the nasty creatures.

“I’m the one in pain,” Happy cried, indignantly. “Lucy squashed me with her fat butt!”

“WATCH IT, CAT!” she screeched at the little blue exceed, the pain from her fall quickly washed into the foreground.

Natsu cackled, causing the celestial spirit mage to turn her glare on him. Noticing the change in atmosphere, he yelped as a certain red-haired wizard came to mind.

“Scary,” he whined. Lucy’s scowl deepened before gifting him with another one of her signature Lucy Kicks.

“Humph,” she muttered, smiling in satisfaction. “Serves you right.”

_____

Later, at the Fairy Tail guildhall, the pair found themselves curled around the bar. Mira wiped down the counters, glancing at the two while she worked. Lucy sat on Natsu’s left with reequip mage Erza Scarlet on his right. Gajeel, Levy, and Pantherlily were located at a table behind him, while Gray was doing his best to avoid an overly exuberant Juvia. Happy had disappeared soon after their arrival back at the guild, dreams of fish and a particular white feline dancing in his head. An overall jubilant air had settled on the guild as members had returned from their missions to settle in for the day.

Lucy leaned against the bar, head spinning, with a strawberry concoction clutched between her palms. A dull ache had settled into her bones since their mission earlier, winding around her mind like a snake. A slight burning sensation danced along her side as a pair of onyx eyes watched her with intensity.

“I’m fine,” she said with a huff, not bothering to turn towards the dragon slayer gazing at her worriedly.

“Lucy, I–”

“Really, Natsu, I’m alright.”

Natsu grumbled, unconvinced, as he finished off the plate of food Mira had set before him. He knew Lucy was lying, but he also knew that she could be just as pigheaded as him. She had been acting strange ever since their return from their earlier expedition. Despite her claims otherwise, he could tell something was up.

Lucy stood up abruptly, letting out a heavy sigh, before turning towards Natsu once more. Ignoring the stars that threatened to consume her vision, she forced a wide smile onto her lips. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll be okay. I think I’m just gonna head home and get some rest. The fight today really took it out of me. Thanks for the drink, Mira.”

She gave one more wave to the white-haired woman before making her way towards the entrance. Before he could make any move to stop Lucy’s departure, Erza placed an armor clad hand on his shoulder. “She’ll be fine, Natsu,” the red-haired warrior assured him. “She can take care of herself.”

He simply nodded, giving Lucy another intense stare before promptly getting knocked off of his barstool by a half-naked Gray. Mira giggled as Natsu let out an enraged scream. Apparently, Juvia had finally caught up to her beloved Gray.  

“What the heck was that for, you pervert?”  Natsu yelled as he quickly shifted into battle-mode, fists blazing with fire.

“Who you callin’ pervert, flame for brains?” Gray challenged.

Soon after, a fight broke out between the two, eventually expanding into a guild-wide brawl after another slice of Erza’s strawberry cake was destroyed. Lucy, who had been watching from the towering guild doors, shook her head. She let out a yelp as a chair smashed against the wall to her left, before finally disappearing out the door and into the streets of Magnolia.  

 Despite a slight limp in her step and pain in her side, the walk home wasn’t as bad as she’d first expected it to be. It wasn’t long before she was weaving her way past the ferrymen and stumbling into her apartment with a heavy sigh.

“Home at last,” she hummed to herself. She stretched out her limbs, cringing as her ankle buckled a bit in pain, before making her way toward the bathroom. “Maybe a shower will help wash off the pain from today,” she mused, ridding herself of her blood-stained clothes. With steam flooding the little room and the water temperature set on high, she stepped carefully into the scalding water. A shaky breath escaped her lips, but her mind continued to spin at a rapid fire pace. Groaning in frustration, she tried for another calming breath. Despite her chance to finally relax a bit, she couldn’t manage to quiet her mind. It had already been a long day, now made even longer by the pain that constricted her mind and body. A glance towards her numerous bruises sent a frustrated sigh past her lips, before her features contorted in confusion. A second glance down at her body caused her gaze to quickly slip from confusion to fear. Thin green lines painted swirls and complex designs across her torso, leaving angry red marks in their wake. The vines, she thought. They don’t just feed off human flesh… “They steal magic power!” She shouted, mentally kicking herself for forgetting the farmer’s warnings. He’d told them that this was a possibility.

Her hands shook as she slowly grew more and more hysterical, tearing frantically at the small vines cutting at her body. Just as she made some headway clearing the thin vines, however, the dizziness from before threatened to overtake her. She reached for her keys, only to find them rendered useless. My magic power is too far gone, she cursed. “Loke, Virgo, someone please!” She cried out desperately. They can’t hear me, she sobbed. A single step towards the bathroom door sent her vision shaking. By two steps, the light in the room began to dance. By the third, Lucy could feel herself losing her will to stand. By the forth, she found herself hitting the ground as the ceiling grew further and further away. “Natsu…” She whispered as vines tangle around her mouth. Her vision slipped away as she soon felt herself get swallowed whole by a cocoon of roots and vines, before she finally lost consciousness altogether.

______

Back at the guild hall, things had finally settled down. Luckily, the aftermath of the brawl had been minimal. A few burnt spots, some broken tables and chairs, and a few missing pillars. The building, by some miracle, still stood proudly in the heart of town.

“Where’s Lucy?” Natsu asked, having finally cooled down from his fight with Gray.

“Oh. Lucy? She went home a little bit ago.” Mira said, smiling sweetly from behind the bar.

“You even watched her go, you idiot.” Gray said with a laugh. Natsu shot the Ice mage a scowl.

“He loooooves her.” Happy drawled from his place next to Charle on the bar top.

Natsu reddened in embarrassment, brushing salmon strands out of his face. The dragon slayer stiffened as a ball of anxiety settled into his stomach. His nose twitched as he took in the stale undertones in the air, confirming some unknown fears. He could be wrong, but he knew Lucy. He knew her scent and how it changed depending on her mood. Right now, the thick smell of fear curdled his blood. Something was wrong.  

With one last vengeful fireball to Gray’s face, he ran off towards Lucy’s apartment with the blue exceed following close behind. Fellow mages and townsfolk cried out in protest as he pushed by them, but Natsu didn’t notice. Blood pumped in his ears, matching his racing footsteps as he hurtled himself down the stone streets. As Lucy’s apartment came into view he pushed his legs faster, using his fire to boost himself through her window in a single bound.

Once safely inside, the first thing he noticed was the silence. Despite the distinct sound of a shower in the background, the stillness hung like a thick fog in the air, suffocating him.  Steam seeped from beneath the bathroom door as he flung it open to reveal a horrific jungle. Vines grew up and off the walls, roots digging out of cracks in the floor.  Leafy plants twisted in midair like worms burrowing through the dirt, dragging curious fingers along his face and down his legs. “Lucy!” Natsu shouted, digging through twists and snarls in the vines. “Lucy!” No answer. Frantic, he set his body ablaze, burning down every vine he could get his hands on. The twisted nether of green squealed and screeched, cutting at his arms and face as every vine soon turned to ash. Finally, there was nothing left but a pale sleeping beauty curled up on the scorched and broken tile.

“Lucy…” his voice was barely a whisper as he pulled the blonde into his arms, swaddling her in a nearby towel. Ashen vines were like cobwebs arching across her ghostly pale skin, her fingers tinged blue as if frost bitten. Even her hair seemed somehow drained of life, as the last of her magical energy seemed to fall dangerously low.

“Nat-su,” a shuddering gasp swept past her grey, cracked lips. “Help m-me… S-so c-cold…” Her words came out in little puffs as her eyes fluttered open, straining to gaze up at his face.

“Lucy. Lucy, look at me. I – I’m here. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He hugged her into his chest, his tears melting into sobs as the smell of strawberries and vanilla wrapped around him. Desperately, he looked around the small apartment before his eyes settled on his blue companion, standing wide-eyed at the door.

“Get Wendy!” He cried out to the little exceed.

“Natsu?” His little eyes rounded with horror.

“NOW, HAPPY!”

“A-Aye, sir!” Happy jumped up and gave him a determined nod before soaring back out the open window from whence they’d come.

A shaky hand grasped onto his scarf, pulling his gaze back down to Lucy’s shaking form.  She curled like a sunflower into his warmth before letting out a shuttering gasp.

“Don’t leave me,” she wheezed. Every note grated against his ears, her normally melodic voice cracked and broken. Regret settled like a stone in his stomach as he cradled her closer to his chest.    “Never,” he whispered.

A soft kiss warmed her clammy skin, flowering across her cheek, as exhaustion finally pulled her into a deep, restless sleep.

______

Warm hands wrapped around her as the smell of wood smoke and cinnamon swirled through the air. She knew that scent. It meant safety, warmth. It meant home.

A slow smile stretched across her lips as her eyes fluttered open to see a chiseled chest and strong arms holding her close. A quick blink shot her eyes upward, only for them to be met with slightly parted lips. As her eyes roamed over the curved planes of his jaw, the slightly parted lips morphed gradually until she was met with a wide, toothy grin. One more shift left her breathless, as she tumbled deep into the depths of his obsidian gaze.

“Natsu –” she stammered.

“Welcome back.” He pulled her closer, resting his forehead onto hers before finally releasing a heavy sigh of relief.

All the pain that had previously ensnared her was gone without a trace. The telltale signs of the guildhall infirmary told her that she had Wendy’s sky magic to thank for that. The warmth that flooded her senses, however, was thanks to her one and only favorite dragon slayer. Although, she doubted it was his naturally higher body temperature that caused warmth to flood her cheeks. Curious eyes peered up at him as his eyes danced behind hooded eyelids. Her very presence seemed to melt him, soften his normally sharp edges.

“Natsu?” She questioned as his face lowered towards hers, their noses brushing together.

“Hmm?” he hummed a response, not quite focusing on her words.

“I –” she began, her words causing their lips to brush. Fire raced through her veins at the sudden touch. A gasp escaped her as their lips finally connected, the sound muffled by the gentle caress of his lips on hers. She felt the fire that raced through him swirling just beneath the skin, held back by an unseen floodgate. He nipped playfully at her bottom lip as their lips danced together in perfect harmony. Abandoning its previous position around her legs, his right hand slid up her side to cup her face while his left hand snaked around her waist, tugging her closer still to his chest. Trails of fire blazed across her skin wherever his fingers danced, sending a shiver of delight down her spine. Her delicate fingers dug into his silky salmon locks as all of their raw emotions were poured out, left open and vulnerable for the other to see. Their kiss grew desperate as the spicy taste of cinnamon filled her senses, causing her toes to curl and her fingers to tug harder at his cotton candy locks. With one last shuddering breath Natsu pulled away, studying her rosy cheeks and her chocolaty brown eyes alight with joy and complete contentment. A deep, throaty chuckle escaped his lips, vibrating against her chest, as he took in her dopey smile. Swollen red lips downturned into a pout, enticing him into another sweet kiss upon her lips, before her dopey grin returned with renewed vigor and her laughter intertwined with his. Lucy gazed sleepily up at Natsu as he mindlessly spun her golden locks through his fingers, a gentle lullaby to her tired mind.

“I –” she began slowly.

“She loooooves him!” came a teasing voice, followed by fits of laughter and giggles. Lucy’s eyes widened, taking in the audience staring at them from the doorway. Spotting the culprit for the interruption, her eyes narrowed on a certain blue exceed hidden in the crowd.

“SHUT IT, CAT!” She screeched as Natsu’s chuckles rolled into cackles, his body shaking as his face twisted with laughter. Lucy burrowed into his scaly white scarf, groans mixing with laughter as she took in a beautiful, terrifying truth. Happy was right about her and Natsu. She really did looooove him, and the adoration he showered down upon her told the mage that he really did looooove her, too.

[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*

[remmushound]

Curse of the clan Part 24! @scentedcandlecryptid @selfindulgenz

Raphael woke up. His muscles were tight from the hard stone, so the first thing he did was roll over onto his carapace so he could get the most leverage possible in order to stretch. He parted his maw in a long-lasting, pressure-relieving yawn. The nap couldn’t have lasted very long—Raphael could still see the artificial sun in the sky slowly making its way down. However long or short the nap had been, it was certainly refreshing! Raphael found himself able to breathe a lot easier! He was better off than when he had arrived, and the wounds sustained from his previous battle with the dragon had already started to heal! And they were healing fast, too; the scabs were starting to turn to scars.

He looked around at the surrounding mist. It hung heavy with the chill of approaching night and seemed to be thickening with every passing minute. Raphael certainly didn't want to be here after dark if that pattern continued. He still had a king to find, and a blessing to receive! So he started on his way— and immediately stopped.

“Hello?” He called to the silhouette in the mist. “Can you help me find my way back to the West part of the city?”

The figure was tall and incredibly skinny, almost like a bobblehead with oversized hands and feet. Raphael squinted to try and get a better idea of what the yokai could be, but he didn't have to look long before the yokai gladly revealed himself.

It was a frog. His skin was a greenish-gray color striped with streaks of black and vibrant green; bumps littered his skin, and on the end of each hand were four fingers, his feet having one extra digit. The yokai seemed to be almost wasting away, just like the frog Raphael had seen. His skin hung loosely around his bony frame, and the only parts of him that still seemed to store any fat were his thick, muscular thighs. His eyes, a dark murky brown color, were both unfocused and one of them was lazy and drifting to the right side no matter how often he corrected it.

“Hi. Little buddy…” Raphael said, crouching down and waving a hand at the yokai. The frog didn't react to the wave. “Hey— is there a town near here?”

The frog stared. His mouth fell open slightly, breathing in slow and lazy breaths.

“Where did you come from?” Raphael asked as slowly as he could manage, making motions to further serve his point, “Can you show me?”

The frog blinked impossibly slowly, like a video slowed down to the smallest possible framerate. Then the frog pointed back to where he had just come from.

“Uh. O’re there.” his voice slurred.

Raphael gave a patient attempt at a grin, gritting his teeth to avoid a violent interaction. “I mean before that.”

The frog narrowed his eyes. “How much before…?”

Raphael took a sharp intake of breath.

“Caaaaause I’ve just been watching you is all.” The frog went on.

Raphael fixed the frog with a wide-eyed stare. “You’re been watching me?”

“Yeah.” The frog nodded like a sloth.

“For… how long?”

The frog took a sudden deep breath. “Uh. Like… it was night when I started. Like… four nights ago…”

“WHAT?!”

The frog gave a dopey, drunken laugh. “Yyyyyyeeeeeaaaah…”

“How could I have been asleep for four days?!” Raphael had been tired when he went to sleep, sure, but not sleep for four days tired!

The frog laughed again and gave the barest effort needed to shrug. “The fog does weeeeiiird things to people who aren’t like, used to it.” Each word he spoke was slow, with a pause in between each one like he had to put actual thought toward the next. “Some people go to sleep and never wake up.”

“Never…?” Raphael gulped. He had a million different questions rushing through his mind at that moment, but he was finally able to settle on one. “W-what’s your name?”

The frog squinted his eyes and gave a deep, rumbling croak. “Errr… Napoleon…?” It sounded more like a question.

Raphael was half certain that the frog had just pulled out the first name he could think of from thin air, but he didn't bring it up. “Oh! That’s funny! I’m named after a famous guy too.”

Napoleon stared for a moment, and then turned and immediately started to leave. Raphael gasped and ran quickly after him; Napoleon didn't seem to care about either way, he was walking wether Raphael was following him or not.

“So— so you live around here?” Raphael tried, to no response. “Do you have like, a village? Or directions back to the main part of the city?”

Napoleon didn't seem to hear him. He was too busy weaving through the low hanging vines, letting them go so they would swing back and tangle Raphael. After the third time getting caught, Raphael learned to expect and avoid the scare. Going through the uneven terrain was difficult; one step would be planted firmly on stone, and the next he’d be ankle-deep in mud! Napoleon, however, seemed to expect and plan for these changes, using vines to cross over a bubbling bog and jumping a weird pattern to land on rocks hidden under soft quicksand. Raphael did his best to follow in the frogs footsteps, misteping countless times but managing to somehow keep pace with the swift yokai.

“Here.” Napoleon rumbled as he pushed aside a final clump of vines.

Raphael came up beside him, growling as vines got caught around his shell and tangled. He fought to rip them off and made a fool of himself in the process, like a dancer fighting off invisible attackers. He went too close to an embankment he hadn’t seen, stumbling as the soft mud collapsed under his weight and he fell into the shallows of a muddy swamp. There was a rush of several creatures fleeing at his disturbance and he sank in up to his waist in the mud; the mud was deeper than the water was, and much grosser.

Raphael gagged and struggled to pull free. The mud held him captive in its powerful grip, threatening to swallow him if he didn't get out soon. Was this quicksand? He sure hoped not. Whatever it was, he wanted it off of him! Napoleon waded into the water after him.

“Hey— little help, Napoleon?” Raphael asked, grunting with the strain of keeping his head above the water.

Napoleon drifted right on past him, as if the water was carrying him more than he was swimming. Raphael followed Napoleon’s path with his eyes and gawked at the sight he found. The marsh here was open and, with the fog, it looked almost endless. A large, swampy lake with houses in the middle, all build on docks just slightly higher than the water. And there were frogs. So. Many. frogs. More than Raphael could count, hopping lazily around the docks. Grown frogs similar to Napoleon, with starved bodies and empty eyes. Young tadpoles swimming around in the water, with arms and legs that were too weak to support them on land, so they were bound to the swamp. A few tiny frogs, identical to the grown frogs in all but stature, hopped about at their leisure equally between water and dock.

“You have to relax dude.” Napoleon nasaled. “Let the water take you.”

“Let the water take me—?!”

“Yeah…” Napoleon drifted circles around Raphael.

“Can’t you just tug me out?!”

“Errrrrrrrrr no. Listen man just… take a deep breath and the water will do the rest.” Napoleon started to drift away.

“Wait!” Raphael called after him, but the frog was already long gone with no intention of returning. Raphael tried again to yank himself free, but the sludge only pulled him down harder. He sucked in a gasp and whimpered as his head disappeared under for a moment before he was able to stretch out his neck to resurface. This thing was swallowing him! And he had no better idea than the one that Napoleon had offered.

He took as deep a breath as his shell allowed, and breathed it out slowly. An immediately relief washed over him; a calm that made the strain of his thoughts slow into easier to manage sections. The air tasted nice, and it made him feel warm in his chest and stomach. He was encouraged to take even more similarly deep breath to take advantage of the euphoric sensation that crashed over him.

The world changed between blinks. He was further out now, the shore getting more distant. Another blink, and his head bonked lightly against the wood of the dock. The pain didn't register. He wasn’t hungry anymore; his stomach felt pleasantly full of the warm air. That was all he needed; the warmth of this water could sustain him the rest of his life...

[marvel-m-lee]

Sunrise?... •Part 3- M-Verse•

Fandom: Marvel

●○●This is a Tickle Fic Story●○●

-This story may also include Gore in some chapters-

(This chapter doesn't include tickling but Is advised if your reading the story)

-

It was late, very late, the young girl, whom had still been unconscious was left to lay in her hospital bed until she awoke. Steve stayed at her side, even though Tony and Bruce tried to convince him other wise.

Everyone in the compound seemed to be asleep, it was extremely early in the morning so it was expected.

You hesitantly opened your eyes, a bright light causing you to pull your head away and stir. Once your eyes became accustomed to the lights you looked around, you were in a hospital like room on a single bed with cream white sheets in a white hospital gown.

You sat up and saw next to your bed was a man, he made your eyes wide and afraid yet warm. Had soft blond hair, he wore a blue shirt with some

Grey tracksuit bottoms on. He was sleeping soundly on the chair, cute little snores coming from him. It made you smile, but quickly hide the smile once you realise you actually were smiling. Though it was cute. You began to have an arguement in your head about it.

"Hey" You snapped out of your thoughts to look at the person speaking with wide eyes. They were small, they had brown fluffy/curly hair and a pair of thin rectangular glasses on the bridge if their nose.

"Hello, I'm sorry if I awoke you or scared you" it seemed like a man, he stepped in the room whispering to make sure he didnt wake anyone. He seemed more nervous than even you were, and you couldn't remember anything so you were pretty shook.

"I- um.." You stuttered, you felt a warmth with his words.

"It's alright, would you like to come with me for a bit? I'm going on a morning walk, I came in to check on you both" The man seemed gentle, he wore a purple button up tucked into some light brown trousers.

You felt like you had nothing to do here, so you reluctantly agreed. You recognised it to a degree, and your gut told you he was safe so you believed it. His warm smile convinced you he was safe once you had agreed to join him. He wasn't pushy or persuasive, just warm and quiet. Something you needed.

"Oh yeah- your clothes, follow me" He whispered, mentioning you out of the room to follow him. You stepped out of the room and could see the outside world. The sky blackish blue, colours starting to fade with one another. Little lights covering the sky.

You followed the man, you were around just above his elbows in height, and you stayed behind him so he did look over his shoulder a few times.

"In here" he mentioned as he opened a door in a corridor full of them. You followed him inside, it was very clean and organized, the room were a moss green, the bed sheets were white while the pillows were purple- the same shade as his shirt. He had bookshelves and little plants at his window, a desk right below the plants that had a computer on and a pencil holder next to it. At the back of the room was a large closet and some draws next to it with a full length mirror and another door in which you believed to be the bathroom from the tiny gap you could see through the open door.

The room really was quite beautiful, the man went over to his wardrobs and pulled out a shirt and belt, the shirt was the same mess green as the walls, flannel that was seemingly one of the largest he had, the belt was a plan old black one but still seemed to match. He then grabbed some shoes, just trainers which may have been a little too big.

He then handed you these items and asked if it were easier if he left or you changed in the bathroom. Surprised of the affection and kindness you nodded with a slight smile- unable to hold back- and went into the bathroom and closed the door.

"See, so what you do is you put on the shirt, putting it up and it should reach down to your knees maybe? Then put the belt around your waist, do it up and it should hopefully look like a dress?" The kind man instructed from outside of the door. You followed the instructions and put the shoes on.

You looked in the mirror and seemed much different already. The shirt did look like a dress, and the belt matched perfectly. The slaves were left rolled down as it was quite cold and you had noticed bruising.

Exiting the bathroom you became a different person, by looks anyway. The man raised his eyebrows in surprise but smiled rising from his- as you assumed- bed. "You look wonderful"

A smile crept along your face, along with a light blush at the complement, unable to hold eye contact.

You both silently- but surprisingly not awkwardly- left and wondered outside. He brought you along a narrow pathway full of green bushes and plants. You both then came to a stop as he showed you the place he came to relax. It seemed to be the edge of the compound, it was beautiful though... surrounded by bushes and a little double garden swing painted in white and covered with little flowers crawling up the sides.

As you looked around you noticed a gap within the bushes, an archway that looked to be on a cliff or hill of some sort. Looking across the sea horizon.

The man went to go sit down on the swing, smiling to himself. He motioned for you to sit down as well, as you did he continued to watch through the bushes to the sea line for your vision to soon follow.

You then noticed something. The sky horizon it was- changing? The black turned to a dark blue turning lighter and inti more and more colours of oranges and pinks and reds. A large ball soon drifting over waking up the world from its darkened sleep.

Your eyes shone witb the colours. Locked in, unable to look away from the beautiful sight.

You hadn't noticed but the man sitting next to you had been watching you, as your eyes lit up and became engrossed in the colours, your pupils decreasing and letting the (y/e/c) colour stream out showing their beauty. You were so enchanted by these colours that came from a seemingly so dark place it was as though the man could feel the warmth seeping out of you.

He then too returned to the beautiful sight in which the sun evolved. After a couple of minutes the beauty ended and you drifted your view to the man. Wonder and colour in your eyes.

"What was that" you asked, pure childlike wonder through your words.

"A sunrise" The man replied, smiling at you. His smile seemed warm, but broken. Like he had been hurt before. You couldn't really explain it but the way your eyes connected for a split second told you everything about his pain and happiness.

"Thank you" you whispered, lightly under your breath but just enough so he could hear the wonder and greatness in the words. It made him smile and look away, nervous of what to say next.

"You're welcome"

You both sat there as you watched the sun float further and further into the sky. It felt so peaceful, and you were so grateful to have experienced it.

"Thank you" you whispered again unconsciously. It was just so beautiful. So wonderful.

The man chuckled slightly and turned to you with his warm smile. "I'm Bruce Banner" he remarked.

You turned away from the sky and looked at him, his figure, his name, "Bruce Banner?.." you questioned, thinking it though but ultimately deciding it was a lovely name. You grinned at him, "it's lovely. I'm... um" your smile died down for a moment as you tried to think. Your name? Your name? What was it?

"Y/n y/l/n, I know. We spoke yesterday. It's okay if you cant remember much more" Bruce reassured you. Grateful, you repeated yourself.

"Y/n y/l/n" you grinned glad to know it. And it also made sense to why you recognised him slightly, you had both already spoken.

"I really loved the sunrise thing. It's so beautiful. Does it happen often?" You asked, integeed by the colours and beauty.

The kind man laughed, "every morning, I'd be more than happy for you to join me. Only don't tell the others where this place is?" He asked politely, he seemed to really love this place. You didnt know who the others where, you soon would though. But you agreed. This would be your place.

After a while you both decided to head back. It turned out you had both been there for an hour and it would move be training time for everyone. Bruce began explaining who everyone was.

"So basically we're called the Avengers, it's off a plane Danvers used to fly I believe, though I'm unsure. We have Thor, he's a god, then theres Nat, she used to be a spy, theres Clint, he has perfect shot. Then theres me, Tony and Steve. We're the 'OG 6' as the press says" Bruce seemed quite intrigued telling you who everyone was. He explained most people to a degree, they're powers and what not.

You smiled at him, taking in the information. He opened the door for you and you both entered the building. Your new relationship didn't seem awkward, just warm.

"Ah so there they were" Another man said as he made himself a cup of coffee. He had a goaty, thin and cut like an oval, he had a strong build and his cheekbones stood out. He was wearing the sane colour shirt you had on- green moss with a V neckline and some usual black trousers. He walked over to you and was a few inches taller than Bruce and walked over to introduce himself.

"You're the kid from the mission ain't ya? Well Bruce really did something" he chuckled out stretching his hand. You shook it anxiously.

"I wont bite, Sam Wilson"

You nodded,unsure if you should introduce yourself so when you let go if his hand you looked down and mumbled your name.

"Shy?" Sam smirked. He then turned to bruce to offer him a coffee, in which he declined to which sam insisted he tell him why if he were just about to make himself one.

"You- just.." Bruce was in a sticky situation until a woman showed up and answered for him.

"You suck at making Coffee Sam" Sam gasped in offence, taking a step back into Bruce.

"I do not!"

The lady rolled her eyes and begun making the coffee instead. "Thanks Nat" Bruce exhaled relief and sat on a stool and you followed like a lost sheep.

"This the kid?" She asked. She was really quite beautiful in your opinion, red hair with white faded at the bottoms from where dye had been used but grown out. She wore a black suit with some type of belt over her cleavage, her hair tyed up into a messy plait.

You couldn't really keep your eyes off her, this place was incredible. The people were fascinating and kind in their own ways.

"Thank you" you whispered to Bruce, he turned his head and furrowed his brows.

"Hmm? What for?"

You stumbled on your words, you were so grateful and warm and you had this feeling inside you that made you feel all floaty and bubbly.

Instead of answering the question you just hugged him, hiding your face in his body.

You couldn't see the look on his face but the others would never forget it, pure love and happiness radiating off of the two of you. He hugged you back, fighting the tears in his eyes.

"You're welcome Y/n"

You sat down on a stool as Nat handed Bruce the coffee and handed you a cup of coloured liquid that you just stared at in confusion.

"Coffee for the Dr. And Juice for the kid" she smiled at you both with a laugh. Sam had noticed your face though and watched you in shock walking over to you.

"Uh, you're meant to drink it?-" he didnt really know what to say. He had never known someone to not know what juice was.

"Um.. sorry.. i- um. What is this?" You asked looking around at everyone after inspecting it. You were welcome with confused looks which made you feel a little bad.

"I can't believe you've never had juice?! Its delicious, if it gave me my energy I'd be drinking it" Sam boasted. You hesitantly picked it up and took a sip, it tasted delicious?

Your eyebrows raised in surprise which told everyone you were enjoying it as you took a few more sips.

"See! Delicious" Sam remarked confidently witch a hand on his hip. Just then you all heard someone bust in the room yelling-

"GUYS?! WHERE'S THE KID?!"

[blacknailpolishonguitarstrings]

From Above

Magic was a very interesting thing. Powerful but fickle. Healing and caring in the right hands, yet wicked and deadly in the wrong ones. Dangerous. Magic was convenient, but used to its full potential only by a select few, and more often than not, by the ones in the wrong rather than by the deserving ones. As such, magic held many secrets that had yet to be discovered. Amongst those many unexplored areas, ghosts and death were some of the most obscure branches of magic. Wizards and witches knew next to nothing about the Afterlife. Ghosts were the imprints of departed souls, and could of course stay in the world of the living if they wished to do so, but they were forever attached to one place. What no one knew, or at least, remembered, was that if one poured enough emotion into the remembrance of a certain deceased person, their soul would be able to perceive what was happening in the world of the living at that precise moment. The souls of the dead had constant access to their past, of course, they were capable of thoughts and feelings, and they could see what was happening to everything and everyone in the world of the living, but as time passed, that connection grew feebler and feebler. The Dead distanced themselves from the Living more and more the longer they were gone, drifting further away from that thin barrier of Reality, and only a strong emotional connection could bring them back. That is how James and Lily Potter found their old friend Remus Lupin at their grave.

“James,” said Lily softly, resting a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

The logistics behind their ability to touch and feel each other were still unbeknownst and confusing to her, yet they were both ever so glad for it. Being dead…well it wasn’t fun. You merely existed. A lone, wandering soul. Yes, one was able to see the world and witness just about anything they wished, but that connection was unstable and weak at best. Both Lily and James felt themselves slipping away a tiny bit more with each day that passed, and it was an underlying knowledge, a cold hard truth, that someday they would simply cease to exist and fade into nothingness. But for now, they held on, with every bit of strength left in them to the real world. They had the urgent need to stay “alive” as best as they could, given their condition, for Harry, the son they would never see grow up, for Remus, their best friend, who was all alone now, and for Sirius, the one person who was slowly but surely getting dreadfully closer to James and Lily with every minute he spent in that cell, isolated, lost, in pain.

“What is it, love?” Asked James, looking up from the concert taking place in a small pub in London he was watching.

“Look, over there,” replied Lily, pointing into the far distance.

The world stretched beneath them like a small map they could observe closer whenever they felt like it, skipping from place to place in a matter of seconds. In the direction Lily was pointing towards, a grey, cold, graveyard stood in the middle of a town, namely, Godric’s Hollow. And among the marble tombstones, a lone figure kneeled in front of two joint headstones which shone bright and white in the evening, brand new, adorned with wreaths of white lilies.

Remus Lupin. In front of their graves. Behind her, James gasped.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” He whispered, already knowing the answer.

“I think so…James, do you feel it? The connection?”

“Yeah, I think I do, it’s almost as if he were…pulling us in.”

Suddenly, they found themselves right above the graveyard, with a direct on-look on it.

“I…I feel close to him, I think his magic is calling us towards him or something. Merlin, this is so strange, how does this even work?” Said Lily, puzzled and slightly frustrated.

“I’m afraid I don’t know much more than you. It must be some form of ancient magic, or maybe Death magic, who knows…in any case nothing we were taught at Hogwarts,” answered James thoughtfully.

His wife nodded in agreement, remaining quiet as she watched her best friend below her. Remus’ shoulders were sagging under an invisible pressure, it appeared as if he would sink into the ground on which he was kneeling at any given second. His hands were hidden in the depth of his old, brown, worn-out coat’s pockets.

“They’re probably balled into fists,” thought Lily knowingly.

Oddly enough he wasn’t crying, and he did not look particularly afflicted. On the contrary, he seemed…numb. He was just there. With no purpose, no emotions, no hysterics, no cries, nothing, he was just there.

“I wish we could talk to him, or at least know what’s going on in his mind,” said James abruptly, interrupting her train of thought.

At that precise moment, Remus pulled out his wand and waved it briefly over the headstones. The fresh flowers on the two graves disappeared in small puffs of sparkles, telltale signs of magic, which hung around fleetingly in the air before vanishing as well. He waved his wand again, and several dark green sprouts spurted from its tip, softly dropping to the ground, small roots snaking into the mushy earth. The plants began to grow in size, intertwining until they formed a complex woven arch of spikes and leaves stretching across the two graves. Here and there, pearlescent white flowers bloomed. White roses.

“He remembers,” murmured Lily, tears welling up in her non-existent eyes, pricking her skin, sliding down her cheeks.

“Oh, love, of course, he does. Besides, those lilies were truly atrocious,” James laughed, but through the rumble of his chuckles, Lily could hear the affliction and the sorrow, thick and overwhelming.

She sighed, hugging him.

“If only we could communicate somehow,” she repeated her husband’s words.

There was another curious thing about magic: it had the uncanny knack to listen to one’s feelings, and sometimes, it was lenient and amalgamated. That is how Lily and James found themselves right next to Remus, still invisible, still unperceived, but there nonetheless, with him, instead of above him. They were both too troubled to think about the trick behind it, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if they were real again. If Lily hadn’t known any better, she would have sworn she felt the chilly autumn wind whisper through her formerly auburn hair, she would have sworn she felt the gravel crunch and roll under her feet, she would have sworn she felt her tears slide down her cheeks and freeze on her clammy skin right before they tipped past her chin, and she would have sworn she felt the texture of Remus’ wool coat under her hand as she placed it longingly on his shoulder, heat radiating from him under her palm. But she knew it was nothing more than a mere wish, sometimes she even wondered if she ever truly felt James’ touch, or if it was yet another fragment of her imagination, a shard of her shattered past. Neither of them was sure anymore, if they still resembled their former selves and had a partly physical form or if they were simple spirits, shadows of people, slivers of energy.

Lily and James stood there for long minutes beside their friend, quiet, not daring to move, just watching him, being there with him. Lily would have given anything to know what was going on in his mind, but he remained silent. Finally, as the last few pale rays of sunlight tinted the grey sky a light golden before being swallowed by the night’s shadows, a hoarse whisper escaped his lips:

“I miss you…I…I’m so alone now and I don’t know what to do.”

His head hung low, dull chestnut curls hiding his face, but Lily could tell he was crying by the slight shake of his shoulders. Her heart tightened, clenched by pain, that is if it still existed somewhere.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he continued with more vehemence. “I don’t want to live like this anymore!”

Remus had almost shouted the last few words and looked as if he were about to say something else when the sudden crack of Apparition cut him off. Albus Dumbledore appeared between the gravestones, dressed in dark blue robes, looking tired, eyes wary.

“Remus, I assumed I would find you here. I am very sorry but I must interrupt your mourning, there is an urgent matter I must discuss with you. Will you—“

“Professor,” interrupted Remus, finally looking up.

His eyes were puffy and red, and ill-defined traces of tears lined his hollow, bony cheeks. Lily couldn’t help worriedly noticing how much thinner he had gotten, bones pocking out from beneath his coat.

“Do you believe Black killed James and Lily and Peter?”

Next to her, James flinched at the question; Remus hadn’t called Sirius by his last name in years.

“I…I am afraid all the evidence point to that, nothing is indicating otherwise,” answered Dumbledore quietly but resolutely.

“NO!” Vociferated James. “SIRIUS DID NOT KILL US, PETER, THAT TREACHEROUS RAT DID! SIRIUS WOULD NEVER DO ANYTHING LIKE THIS! HE IS MY BROTHER! HE ISN’T CAPABLE OF MURDERING ANOTHER HUMAN BEING!”

“James! James! They can’t hear you, my love, as unjust as this is there is nothing we can do!” Said Lily sadly, attempting to calm her husband down, yet her voice shook with contained fury.

Remus said nothing for a while, looking pensively into the distance, watching as the sun finally set, but something in his gaze had hardened.

“So he killed them,” he declared at last. “Black killed his best friends, those who gave him everything, and he abandoned me and betrayed me too…”

“No! Remus! Listen, it’s false! It’s not what it looks like! Dammit, Remus, listen to me!” Begged James desperately, trying to grasp his friend’s shoulders, but his hand went right through him, slicing through the air.

“He killed them,” repeated Remus bitterly. “I guess the Black in him won, after all, joined Voldemort, didn’t he?”

“I suppose so, yes,” nodded Dumbledore.

The words hit Lily like a punch in the gut as James sunk with a defeated and miserable sigh next to her.

“Old fool,” he mumbled.

[headoverhiddles]

Little Pistol - Ron Tully x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: You travel to Stockton for a conjugal visit with Tully. The two of you have been apart too long for formalities. 

Notes: This was a request! As per my usual disclaimer, I don’t condone Tully’s ideology, this is his character, minus that! 

Gif used belongs to stilinski-ortiz-dolan!

Tully had been on the boards for a visit for six months. There are a lot of things he can bribe the guards for, like rooms to talk business with his guys, private lines on the phone, and a general prison-wide acceptance that no one would fuck with him unless it really was the law. What he can't bribe anyone for though, is a wait bypass for a conjugal visit. His name is on the list like the rest of them, and even though he'd pay a pretty penny to see you monthly, it's just not something he can do.

Now, having waited quite a bit of time, Tully's "good behavior" had paid off. The next day was his visit with you, which would last a day.

"You seem happy," the guy behind him in the communal washrooms mentions. No one talks to Tully much, for fear of what he’d do to them if he wasn’t in the mood, but this guy was the prison idiot, and Tully didn’t mind his chatter now and then. The taller man is washing his face in the sink, shaving his growing facial hair a little and trimming his hair.

"I am."

The guy smirks. "Can I ask why?"

Tully drags the plastic razor down his chin, inspecting himself. He didn't want to shave it too close, since you always said you liked his stubble... liked the way it felt between your thighs. Tully's small smile grows a little, and he dunks the razor in water. It had cost him a couple fifties to be allowed to clean up a little with actually helpful instruments of hygiene this morning. 

"I'm seeing my girl tonight." He gestures to his things, and the guy goes over, finding a polaroid of you in a black bra and panties, posing on top of Tully's bike.

"Shit. With a body like that, what makes you think she's still your girl?" the guy chuckles. Tully doesn’t dignify the man with a look. 

"It’s not like that." He takes some scissors from his sleeve, trimming his black hair close to his temple. "I know she'd die for me. And I'd die protecting her." The guy's still staring at the polaroid of you when Tully's done his haircut. "Alright, put it the fuck down, or I'mma have you stabbed."

He takes the photo, and feels himself stir already. His eyes run over your perfect tits, down your legs, to the thin black fabric covering that pussy he knows so well. He sets the photo that he’d touched himself to many times by the mirror, and checks his reflection. He'd never really considered himself to be handsome, which is why he became powerful instead, but you seemed to think he was the sexiest man alive. He didn't mind that. 

"Lucky you get a visit," the guy mutters. 

"I almost didn't. See, you're not supposed to get visits from anyone outside of family. Technically, I haven't married (y/n) yet. But, I pulled some strings. 'S what I do."

"Mm. I don't have any girlfriends or anything. Last visit I got was my mom, back in '07. Got banned til the end of my sentence cause my mom tried to plant weed on me. Guess she likes the quiet around the house."

Tully, not really listening, grunts in response. He then does up another button on his blue shirt, and looks down at the picture again, really studying it. He remembers the way you screamed his name while he fucked you over that motorcycle. He takes it as a personal challenge to raise even more hell tonight. 

 ---

You sit in the diner in Stockton, California. You'd traveled up here with a few of the guys who work for your boyfriend, since they had to do some work anyway, smooth some shit out before Tully caught wind of it and had their heads. They knew to take good care of you, or they'd pay for that with their life too. You yourself are about to go see Tully, and you can't wait. It had been so long.

Dressed in a little white crop top, a short black skirt, and sunglasses, you're feeling your best. You know ever since he got the news he’d been scheduled for a conjugal, Tully's probably had tonight in mind day and night, and what you wear won't alter the fact that he's going to give you the best pounding you've ever taken. But you want to wow him too. He hasn't seen you for the better part of a year, after all, and to get a real good reaction out of him, you need the element of surprise. 

"Want another milkshake, hun?" a kind, older waitress with smile lines and grey hair asks. You smile back.

"Love one."

You tap your nails on the table, watching out the window at the people walking by in the heat. You're used to living in Southern California, since Tully's the shot caller and doesn't go out on rides, but he conducts business up here in the northern part of the state sometimes. Liaisons, stuff like that. The county jail he does his time in is unfortunately pretty far away from the reclusive home you two share in San Diego. Still, you keep busy and make do while he's gone, keep an eye on how things are run in his absence. It's what you have to do to stay sane.

"Don’t mean to bother you. But can I ask what your tattoos mean?" the waitress asks, sliding you another of your favorite flavor of milkshake.

You glance down at your knuckles, which have T U L L Y tattooed across them, a letter per finger.

"My man," you say wistfully.

"I'm sorry," she says quickly, noticing the sorrow in your eyes, "Did he pass away?"

"No," you smile, "He's just away right now, doing time."

"Shit, no kidding. My husband's been in for two years now, serving another five. Kills me every day."

You move your stuff to one side of the table. "Sit, if you want." The lady checks her watch, and sits across from you. "I hate it," you confess, "It's the worst. It's the life I chose to get involved in, but it's rough when it actually comes back to hit you at night, when you don't have their arms around you."

"I know just what you mean, hun. Probably shouldn't be saying this, but... my husband is an arms dealer, works in the gun trade. Under the table deals out in San Pedro, all that." 

"My Tully's a shot caller," you say, not elaborating any further on his gang or who he's affiliated with. This lady seems nice, but you're never sure who could be an undercover cop, or the wife of a rival gang member. 

"You're visiting him, then?" she asks.

"Yes. Tonight."

"Baby, you have the time of your life tonight, you hear me?"

"Oh, you know I will," you giggle, "When he hasn't seen me for a while, things get very physical."

"I can imagine." She winks. 

You hand her a Polaroid you've got in your leather jacket pocket; Tully's got the other one from this day. In this one, you're dressed in black panties and a black bra, and you're sitting on Tully's lap, straddling him. The photo shows the backside of you, showing off your backside, and Tully has got his face looking over your shoulder, glaring darkly as his fingers sink into the flesh of your ass. It's a photo of the two of you that never fails to turn you on, especially recalling how hard he fucked you over his bike after this picture was taken.  

You sigh, twirling the straw. "He's my ride or die... and I'm his forever girl."

--

Finally, it comes time for the guards to collect Tully. They know exactly what he's going to do to you, as they're the ones who have had to listen to Tully groan your name every morning and night whenever he gets the urge.

“This has been a long time coming,” one guard sighs. 

"Just don't make too much noise," the other guard pleads. Tully glances at him.

"I don't remember payin’ you off to tell me how to fuck my girlfriend."

The guy concedes, keeping his mouth shut. They let him into the room, far away from the others and the best money can buy (he at least had some sphere of influence in this department), and they go to close the door.

"She'll be in in a minute." Tully undoes the top three buttons of his shirt, and waits.

 ---

You get a pat down in the lobby of the conjugal area. They take out a gold switchblade and a couple of metal rings, leaving your pockets empty. Then you're ready to go in. The guards let you in, and you see Tully sitting on the bed. He looks up.

"Hey, baby."

"Hey," you grin. One of the guards steps in.

"24 hours, Tully. Make it count." He shuts the door after himself, locking it, and you look around. It's almost like a normal home-- there's a mini fridge, a bed, a TV, and a living area.

"I missed you," you say, and walk over to him. He accepts you into his lap, and you cup his face, pressing your lips to his.

"So did I," he murmurs against your lips. "You doing good? Looking after the boys, making sure they're doing their jobs?" You nod. "Good. They're a bunch of jokes when I'm not around."

"Well, now that nobody's around... am I correct in thinking you wouldn’t say no to a strip tease?" you ask, snapping the strap on your bra underneath your shirt.

"Yeah," he nods, sitting back on the couch. You slowly take your shirt up over your head, watching as his eyes fall down to admire your breasts.

"You like that?" you murmur, bunching your hair up a little as you slide your fingers downward. 

"Thought of me while you did that the last few months?"

"Nuh uh," you grin, "Trying to trick me? I know I can only cum when you tell me to."

"That's right," he smiles fondly, watching your hips swing back and forth. You finally rub the finger between your legs, and get on the edge of the bed, pulling your panties to one side. You hear the low hitch in Tully's breath, and you sink your fingers into yourself, loving the feel but craving the stretch of your boyfriend.

You dip your fingers in again, lips parting as you moan. "Gonna join in?"

"Right now I'm just going to sit here and watch, babygirl. Seeing you do it in person is a nice change. Your moans are fuckin’ beautiful, but a visual always helps." He gives one of his dark smirks, and sits there, watching. You feel the heat rise even more as his eyes travel, your skin heating up just knowing he’s appreciating the show you’re putting on. You let his name escape your lips with a sigh. "My beautiful little slutty girl," he murmurs, and unzips his pants as you watch in feverish arousal. He takes his cock out, and starts to pump it slowly in his hand while you watch, shoving your fingers deeper. Your eyes are trained on his fist, where it's jerking up and down. He lifts his chin.

"Look at that," he starts to stroke a little faster, "All you, baby." You flip over, not reaching enough depth in this position, and sit on your fingers, letting them disappear deeper into your pussy. Tully sits forward, intense gaze trained, unblinking, on where your hips are slamming down. "You're so fucking hot," he whispers.

"Yeah?" You ride your fingers harder, "You like that? You like that, baby?"

"S good, sweetheart." He moans, squeezing himself. "Fuckin' tease."

"Get over here and pound me then," you say, licking your lips obscenely. He finally stands, and grabs you by your hair. You groan as he drags you over to the bed, where he shoves you down onto the soon-to-be-destroyed mattress.

"You wanna feel daddy's cock?" he asks, and you crawl forward, stroking up the length of it. He lets you for a moment, reveling in the feeling of your hands on his dick again, but eventually urges you off again. He crawls onto the bed between your legs, and pushes your thighs far apart, exposing your soaking pussy to him.

"This is all mine," he whispers, "You know this cunt belongs to me." He hums. “I own a lotta things, and this here’s one of em.” 

"Yeah, daddy," you breathe, and he seals his lips over you, upper lip teasing your clit while his tongue dips in and out of you. Fuck. One thing among many that can be said about Tully, is he knows how to eat you out spectacularly.

"That's good, that's good," you start chanting, "Please... sir, please..."

He groans, and the vibrations make your clit throb. "Imma take good care of you, babygirl, don't you worry," he assures softly, eyes glowering up from between your legs, "Take good care of my girl. She deserves it. Deserves gettin’ fucked good too. Don't you?" 

"Yeah..." you whine. 

"You've been a real good girl, waiting for daddy. Only cumming when he's talking to you on the phone. You know the rules." 

"Daddy," you gasp, feeling your orgasm build, "I-I have a confession." Your voice sounds so small, and your tone is airy in your breathless state.

"Mmm? Tell me, sweetheart."

"You won't be mad?"

"That depends." He strokes soothing hands up your calves, and you shudder, flashes of his punishments running through your head.

"I was... in the jacuzzi with the girls the other night. I was thinking of you, and... thinking of what you'd do if you were there. I was wearing your favorite bikini. The one that's translucent, so you can see my nipples?" 

"Mmhmmm."

"And..." You wiggle your hips, chasing your release at the mercy of Tully's tongue. "And I... well, the jets just felt so good, I... mmm!"

"Tell daddy," he encourages with a growl.

"I let the pressure make me cum in my swimsuit, imagining it was you." You let out a moan as his tongue licks a stripe up from the base to the tip of your clit.

He hums. "It's okay. It’s okay. I understand. Some things just can't be helped. I know you tried." You exhale, uncomfortable waves of arousal washing over you. You wish he'd fill you up. "I'm proud of you, you know."  You look down at him again. "You're so brave. I'm in here, you're all alone. I wish I could be there for you, remind you every day why you'll always be mine."

"You are there for me. When you can be. You bribe the guards with your hard earned cash to get ten minutes on a call with me, to check in, make sure I’m alright. You're in here getting shit done, and I’m running things at home. It’s how we do it."

"Mmyeah. But I'd much rather be back in the game than calling the shots in here. In a perfect world, nothing would stand between us. Two of us against the world."

"Together as one," you smile, arching your back.

Tully shares your smile, as he presses soft kisses all the way up to just barely graze your cunt again. "Against all others." He nips at the dip in your hipbone. "Mm. Babygirl, when I'm out, I'mma do this... every night. That’s a motherfuckin’ promise."

You grind your hips toward his mouth, and he holds them down firmly against the mattress as he launches a proper maneuver on your clit, making you cum in seconds. You ride it out, hands fisting in his hair. He crawls over top of you, staring down at you like he's about to devour you. You don’t doubt that he is. 

You part your legs even more, and he picks them up, throwing them over his shoulder and holding your hips up. He guides himself to line up with your dripping cunt, and pushes into you easily with a low grunt, your first orgasm having slicked you up perfectly. Each following thrust is harder than the previous; Tully isn't wasting time. Already sensitive, you feel the second orgasm building. Desperate, you run your hand through your hair, getting it out of your face.

"I need it, fuck Tully, I need your cock!" you practically shout, and his grunts increase in volume as he dedicates all his energy to making sure he uses you properly. "Fill me up with your cum, daddy?" you ask innocently.

"Oh, you know I will."

"Fucking do it then."

"You’re a mouthy one, sweetheart," he moans, and he throws his head back, biting his bottom lip hard. “You test me.”

“You love it.” 

“I tolerate it... cuz I love you so fucking much... ohhff, shit...” 

“Look at me when you cum?” you gasp breathlessly. He obliges, jet black hair hanging and jolting with his tattooed body as he puts all his weight behind fucking you as deep as he can. He looks you in your eyes as your own eyelids droop in desire, and he gasps your name as you both reach your peaks together. 

You hum softly in contentment, and climb on top of his larger frame, laying on his chest. He puts an arm over you, body rising and falling with labored breath.

"What do you want to do now?" you tease. He looks down at you, brushing your matted hair aside affectionately. 

"We still got 23 hours left. You do the math."  

[jojosbizarreblog]

Let Down Your Crystal Walls

5 // 6 // 7

A/n: I've put a content warning for some potentially triggering sexual stuff down below (cause the orangutan and all, I hate that thing).  Stay safe you guys! Love ya!

Chapter 6: Don’t Walk in the Halls Alone

Song Inspiration: 'Alone Together' by Fall Out Boys

Kyogen came to with a fading headache, quiet conversations, and the blurry face of her Stand lit by moonlight. The surface underneath her felt strange, rocking back and forth.

A boat... she was in a boat. Presumably with the others. Her clothes were stiff as she straightened out and she had a horrible headache and the shallow cuts on her skin stung.

Kyogen flinched as Joseph clambered over and clapped a hand on her shoulders. "Wind! Thank god you're alright!"

It took her a second to register the English. "Y-Yeah," she hoarsely replied, coughing after the statement. Joseph handed her a canteen and Kyogen fumbled to open it. Cool water rushed down her throat as she guzzled it down. "Everyone alright?" She slurred, gingerly touching the bump on the side of her head. "What happened?"

"Everyone is fine," Avdol said. "Jotaro managed to take out the fake captain. But it turned out he planted bombs on the ship that exploded when he died. Luckily, everyone reached the lifeboats in time."

"Ah," Kyogen said, eternally grateful that she missed out on the explosion. "Who fished me out?"

Avdol pointed to Sharpnote. "Actually, your Stand dragged you to us. It's been guarding you ever since."

"Yeah, barely even let me get close to use the Hamon on you!"

Hamon? What was that? She was about to ask that but a familiar voice interrupted her.

"Hey!" The girl said. Kyogen had missed her from behind Jotaro's bulk. "What's all of this mumbo jumbo you're talking about?"

Jotaro sighed and pulled his hat down. "You wouldn't understand, kid."

"Oh yeah??? Try me!"

Kyogen ignored the conversation going on over at that side of the boat and focused on Joseph. "Hey, Mr. Joestar?"

"Yeah?"

"What's Hamon?"

The man straightened. "Right! Hamon is powerful energy identical to that of the sun manifested by a trained person through controlled breathing," Joseph said. "It is used primarily to heal, like what I did for you. I was not able to get all of it because your Stand likes to hover."

Kyogen glanced at Sharpnote, who stared back at her. "Sorry," she grumbled, calling it back to her.

Joseph shrugged. "I'm sure it was worried about you. We all were. You and Jotaro were down there for pretty long, and imagine our surprise when Sharpnote broke the surface with your limp body in tow!" Yellow energy crackled to life on Joseph's hand and Kyogen flinched back.

"Sorry," Kyogen said again automatically. She stilled and let Joseph touch the sore spot on her head. Warmth radiated from the old man's fingers, soothing the pain.

"There you go, kid!" Joseph said cheerfully, patting her heavily on the back. "All done!"

"Fortunately, Sharpnote got you to the surface before you could inhale any water," Kakyoin said, handing Kyogen her bag. "You are very lucky."

Kyogen stared at the horizon. She was tired, despite just gaining consciousness a few minutes ago. Maybe it was just the shock. Probably. Joseph stretched his arms from where he was sitting. "We'll have to wait it out until rescue comes. I don't know how long we'll need to wait, but it's best to conserve our energy for now. Wind, feel free to get more rest if you need it."

Kyogen nodded. "Thank you," she said. Checking her bag, she saw that both her daggers were wrapped up together in the cloth. Thankfully, no water had leaked through it into any of her stuff. Kyogen zipped up her bag and scanned the area around her. The sailors were in the other boat and all of them appeared tired. Most of the passengers on her boat looked no worse for wear, and Kyogen felt like she got the short end of the stick. Her clothes were stiff with salt, rips decorating them. She didn't want to see what her hair must've looked like.

Joseph yawned widely and said, "Well, I'm gonna try and get some shut-eye for the night! Take care!"

The others all voiced their agreement in getting some rest, and as they settled down one by one, Kyogen was left with the sounds of water lapping against the side of the boat and deep breaths from the others. She couldn't help but scan over the weathered faces of her fellow group. Despite only knowing them for so long, she felt connected with them somehow. She leaned back and stared up at the sparkling stars above her.

***

The night passed with Kyogen keeping vigil amongst the stars. The sun rose and one by one the stars went away. Avdol was the first to rise, looking at her with surprise. "Did you not sleep, Wind?"

"No, I didn't, Avdol-sama."

"Just call me Avdol," he said. "Aside from that, you should try to avoid staying up like that, it's detrimental to your health."

"Yeah," Kyogen said, letting out a humorless laugh. "I know, I just couldn't sleep."

"I understand," Avdol said. "You've been through quite a lot so far, it's understandable that you'd be so on edge from it."

Kyogen jumped as Jotaro's voice interrupted the moment."Hey," he said. "I'm curious about something. How come when the barnacles latched onto your Stand, you didn't receive any damage?" He held up Hamon-healed hands. "Most of everyone here suffers the same injuries when their Stand gets hurt, is yours different?"

"Oh, I get hurt alright," Kyogen said, wincing. The crack-like, mother-of-pearl scars radiating from the small of her back was proof of that. "I guess Sharpnote's more resistant to damage. But there's enough force, it'll get cracked and chipped. I know."

"Wind..." Avdol began tentatively. "You know that most Stands only receive damage from other Stands of something wielded by a Stand, right?"

Kyogen blanked. "Uh... you said most Stands."

"That's because your Stand is the first instance that I've seen different."

"Are you sure, Wind? You're not lying are you?" Jotaro asked.

"I'm not lying," Kyogen replied curtly. She was sure of what happened that day.

Avdol hummed and said, "Well the world of Stands is one that is as varied as the individuals on this Earth. You can never be certain of what rules they follow."

"Mr. Avdol, you seem to know a lot about Stands," Kyogen noted.

"Indeed. I have been studying them for many years now. They are interesting and all unique in their own ways."

"Hey, hey, what are you guys talking about so loudly in the morning?" Polnareff grumbled, stretching languidly from where he sat. "Can't let the rest of us sleep in peace or what?"

"The sun's been up for a bit already you lazy ass," Jotaro retorted. He sighed and reached into his pocket, but paused. "Yare yare daze, my cigarettes aren't dry yet..."

"As good a time as any to quit," Kakyoin laughed, joining into the conversation. Joseph snorted and jerked up, startling the kid next to him. It seemed like everyone was awake now as chatter began to fill the air around Kyogen as she settled back into watching and waiting.

"I'm thirsty," the kid—she really needed to ask her name—whined. "Do we have any water?"

Kyogen passed the canteen to her and the kid began chugging it down, only to spit it straight back up.

"Hey kid, watch it! That's the last of our water!" Joseph yelled at her.

The girl pointed to something behind Kyogen. "S-S-S-Sh-Sh-Ship! SHIP!"

Kyogen snapped around and nearly toppled off her seat when she saw a towering tanker looming over the two lifeboats. "H-How did none of us hear it come up?" She asked, eyeing it suspiciously as it slowly floated to the lifeboats, stopping to drop down a ramp. They let sailors in the other boats climb on first as the group tried to grasp the situation at hand.

"Where the hell did this ship come from?" Jotaro muttered. "It's like it appeared out of thin air. And nobody's shown themselves, even though the ramp is down."

Polnareff was the first to leap on the stairs, turning back and saying, "They came this far to save us! There has to be someone on board! Even if they're all Stand users, I'm getting on this boat." Kakyoin gave them a lost look, then shrugged and got on the stairs, following Polnareff. It was Avdol who got off next, then Jotaro and Joseph. Jotaro turned around and tried to offer a hand to the girl, who promptly leaped at Joseph and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Yare yare daze," Jotaro sighed. He turned to Kyogen as she was shakily making her way through the boat to the stairs and offered the same hand.

She gratefully took it, wobbling as she leaped to the stairs. "Thank you," Kyogen said. Jotaro simply nodded and turned to walk up the stairs.

The ship was eerily silent as they made it onto the deck, only the creaking of the hanging hooks and the sounds of the sailors that had just climbed aboard heard among the light mist that had begun to pass through the area. Something made her on edge, and she realized that Sharpnote was out, walking next to her. "Come back," she grumbled to it. Sharpnote simply shook its head and continued scanning the deck. It split off from her and walked to Avdol, who gave her a confused look. Kyogen simply shrugged and pointed to Joseph, who was walking to the boat cabin, indicating that she would follow him.

Kyogen joined Joseph's side. Their group got larger when Kakyoin, Polnareff, Jotaro, and finally the girl joined them on their way to the control room. "Something feels off, Mr. Joestar," she murmured to him. "My Stand is out, and it refuses to be called back."

"Something is definitely going on," Kakyoin said. "I'm not sure what, but we should be on guard.

Joseph pushed open the door to the control room, where not a soul greeted Kyogen and the group. "Wh-What's with this boat?!" He exclaimed. "There's no captain in the pilothouse, no operator in the radio room, no crew anywhere on board!"

"Yet everything seems to be working fine," Kyogen mused, eyeing the moving steering wheel. She didn't know anything about large ships, but she was confident that there should have been a captain on board, at the least.

"Maybe they're all in the bathroom with a bad case of diarrhea," Polnareff said, shrugging.

Kyogen didn't notice the other opened door until the kid pointed it out. "Everyone, come here!" She exclaimed, pointing inside the room. "There's a monkey inside a cage!"

Reaching the room first, Kyogen looked in to see a large orangutan staring back at her. Goosebumps erupted on her arms when she made eye contact with it. Locked, in a stare-off with the monkey, she didn't notice the others coming into the room.

"An orangutan," Kakyoin noted as Kyogen tore her gaze away from it.

"Who the hell cares about a monkey?!?" Joseph asked. "Let's split up and see who's feeding it."

They all silently agreed to that, and Kyogen was the last to leave the room, turning around to eye the orangutan one last time. It gave her a grin and she grimaced. She didn't stay for too long and turned back to catch up with the others, walking side by side with the kid.

They met up with Avdol and the other sailors, who were all clustered around an operating machine. Sharpnote left Avdol's side to join Kyogen. Joseph paused and Kyogen saw him glancing overhead. She looked up just in time to see one of the hooks come to life.

"Advol," she yelled. "Hook!"

Her warning came too late as the hook swung down into the back of a sailor's head, the point coming out of his mouth is a spurt of blood and a dying cry. She turned her head away when the hook cable shortened, the carcass dangling down from it. Kyogen avoided looking at the body in an attempt to keep her vomit in check. Good god, this was not what she was expecting when she stepped foot on this ship.

"Yare yare daze..." Jotaro sighed, hand covering the kid's eyes. "A welcome like this is a bit much for a kid."

Kyogen had to force herself to not look at the growing puddle of blood on the ground.

"No one was touching the crane..." she muttered, backing away from it. "Why was it moving?" A drop of sweat trailed down her temple as she tried to control her trembling limbs.

Joseph turned to the remaining sailors and said, "Hey, don't touch any of the machinery. If it moves or runs on electricity, don't lay a finger on it! If you want to live, follow my orders! Don't leave the cabin down below until we say it's okay!" He then turned to Kyogen and said to her, "Wind, you remember where it is, right? Can you lead them down there?"

Kyogen nodded. "I'll leave Sharpnote here with you. He'll lead you to me if anything happens. I have my daggers to defend myself with, so Sharpnote might be of use to you."

Kyogen beckoned the sailors and the kid to follow her. She kept an eye out for any strange happenings as they went through the halls. Nothing except an eerie stillness. They reached the radio cabin and Kyogen pushed open the door to let the sailors in. She stepped out and scanned the hallways, the kid still next to her. Choosing a random direction, Kyogen started making her way down the hall.

"Man... I'm all sticky from the salt," the girl complained. Kyogen was suddenly aware of said salt clinging to her skin and clothes. "I wanna take a shower..."

"Maybe a shower wouldn't be too bad," Kyogen agreed. "But we have to be wary of what's happening around here."

The girl jumped, not expecting Kyogen to reply. "Yeah... what's up with that, anyway? Trouble always finds your group. Are you guys jinxes or something? Even you and your eye look weird!"

"We're not jinxes, kid," Kyogen replied, ignoring the comment towards her eyes. "It's just that there are a lot of people who want to stop us, and they don't care who gets involved."

"Stop calling me kid, I have a name, you know," the kid huffed.

"Then what is it?"

"Anne," she said proudly.

Kyogen nodded and replied, "I'm Wind Kyogen--Kyogen Wind."

Anne looked at her with curious eyes. "Kyogen? Are you Japanese? Is that what your accent is?"

"Half Japanese," Kyogen corrected. "My father was Vietnamese."

"Ah, no wonder you looked kinda strange," Anne mused.

Kyogen sweatdropped. Thanks for the boost of confidence, kid. This wasn't the first time someone had made a comment on her looks though, so she was used to it.

"Hey, hey, look!" Anne yelled, pushing ahead of her. She ran to a marked door and pushed it open. "It's the shower stalls! You and I can get a shower!"

Kyogen scratched her head. "Are you sure about that?"

"I mean, come on," Anne urged. "There's really no one present right now, so this might be our only chance at getting clean!"

Her conviction was thinning as she let herself be led into the room by Anne. "Alright," she sighed. "But we have to make it quick."

***

A short tune rang through Kyogen's head as she folded her salt-encrusted clothes into neat piles. She had on a grey pair of loose sweatpants with the bottom cinched around her ankles and a white collared shirt with yet another bow tying the collar together. The fabric making up her previous bow was dirty, so she opted for a pale-blue strip of fabric to tie a new bow. Anne was still in the shower and for a moment, Kyogen entertained the thought of hand-washing her clothes. No, that wouldn't do. She didn't have the time to wait for them to dry, it would be better to wash them when they reached their destination.

Amidst the falling water and the tune in her head, she heard distant thumping, and what she swore were screams. Kyogen straightened up and grabbed both of her daggers from their cloth wrap, slipping her backpack on and sliding out of the shower rooms. Dread filled her as she saw a red liquid leaking out from underneath the door of the sailors' cabin. She slowly took steps towards it, and froze when the door creaked open. Kyogen's eyes widened when she saw the orangutan step out. She ducked behind a wall, trying to control her breathing. Slow, plodding footsteps got louder, and it passed her. Panic filled her as she realized that Anne was left vulnerable without anyone to help her.

She had to act.

Kyogen leaped at its back, digging her knife into its back. The monkey let out an ungodly shriek and stumbled. It slammed her into the wall. Kyogen cried out as she lost her hold on the daggers. Pipes burst out of the wall and wrapped around her throat, arms, and legs, pinning her to the wall and rendering her immobile. She choked as the pipe around her throat tightened as the monkey came nearer.

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It gave her a salacious grin and eyed her chest.

Kyogen struggled harder against the unyielding pipes as its hand came closer to the buttons of her shirt. "G-Get away, fucker," she wheezed. "I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you."

There was a tearing sound as the monkey pulled at her collar, ripping the bow and stretching the fabric as the buttons popped open. Her eyes burned with tears as she squeezed them shut. Fuck. Was this how it was going to be? Please no. Please. By all the deities up above not like this.

----------------------------------------------------WARNING OVER-----------------------------------------------

A loud crackle and large crystals blasted the orangutan away from her, announcing the new arrival of two others. Jotaro walked past Kyogen as Sharpnote hurried to her, grasping the pipes in its grips and tearing it out of the walls. Kyogen took in shuddering breaths, throat aching, as she dropped to the floor, free of the constraints. She grabbed her fallen daggers and stumbled to her feet, looking at where Jotaro went, just in time to see a fan break off and embed itself into his shoulder. She shakily made her way to his side, trying to yank her stretched collar into a position that it wouldn't show the tank top or anything underneath.

"This is no ordinary ape..." Jotaro said. "It's a Stand user."

He reached for the fan in his shoulder and Kyogen watched as one of the blades came to life and batted his hand away. She had to dive out of the way as Jotaro flew back, hit by the propeller in his shoulders. Sharpnote was there to stop him from hitting the wall while Star Platinum rushed past her to punch the ape. The dust cleared to show them that the monkey was phasing through the wall and that Jotaro's Stand's fist had missed it.

The boat shuddered and started to warp around her and Jotaro. Kyogen panicked, remember the young girl in the showers. "S-Shit I gotta get to Anne!" She yelled, dashing down the hall. She didn't need to open the door when it swung open and Anne stumbled out, fully-dressed.

"W-What's going on?" Anne cried as Kyogen grabbed her hand.

"Stick close to me!" Was all that Kyogen said. She managed to reach Jotaro with the girl, only to shove them out of the way of more pipes.

Once again, Kyogen found herself pinned to the wall, this time side by side with her Stand. More pipes exploded from the wall and then Jotaro slammed into the wall next to her. The orangutan phased back into the hallway, dressed in a captain's uniform and a smoking pipe. Anne had managed to hide away where the orangutan didn't see her. Kyogen let out a feral scream and thrashed against the pipes. Aside her, the pipes groaned as Sharpnote pulled against them.

Not again.

She gagged as the pipe tightened around her throat again, cutting off her cries. Rancid air blew into her face as the ape huffed, drool leaking out of its mouth.

A gold flash and something bounced off the ape's head. It turned around and eyed Jotaro.

"That button's not part of your Stand," the male said.

The ape shook with barely suppressed rage as it held up the button. Kyogen sagged down within her restraints as the attention turned away from her, a numb rock filling her chest.

"You mad?" Jotaro challenged. "I guess it wounded your pride, since you thought you'd already won." He paused and reconsidered his words. "No, that's wrong... because apes don't have any pride!"

The monkey leaped at Jotaro.

"You're gonna regret that."

Kyogen watched with a detached air as Star Platinum flicked the button into the monkey's head with enough force to puncture it. It fell back, screaming. With its focus wavered, the pipes went loose enough for Jotaro to break free of it. Sharpnote did too, and it turned to Kyogen and began viciously ripping the pipes away from her. It supported her as she stumbled to the ground. Kyogen glanced at Jotaro as she was making her way to Anne. He was hovering over the ape, who had its stomach displayed.

"Yare yare daze," Jotaro muttered, adjusting his hat. "I heard that when frightened, animals show their stomachs to signal they're giving up. So you're asking me to forgive you?"

Kyogen watched as it trembled and nodded.

Jotaro turned to her and asked, "So, Wind, should we forgive it?"

She paused as Anne latched onto her arm, a cold look forming on her face. "Make it hurt," she rasped, turning to lead Anne out of the hall. "We're going up." Even with her ripped shirt, even with her bruised throat, she couldn't be bothered to exact revenge back upon the ape. She felt sick and shaky as she led Anne through the halls.

Halfway to the deck, the ship began shaking harder than before. "What's going on on?" Anne cried.

Kyogen cursed and grabbed Anne's hand, beginning to bolt down the hall. "The ship's sinking!"

Sharpnote appeared beside her and scooped Anne up, ignoring her surprised yelp as she was picked up by an unknown force.

"Go!" Kyogen barked at it. "You remember the way out!"

It hesitated but bolted ahead of her after she scowled at it. Kyogen stumbled and Jotaro passed her.

"Move it!"

In a twist of fate, Kyogen found herself being swept up into Star Platinum's arms, the Stand floating after his user. She stiffened at the contact but allowed herself to be carried. It would be faster, after all.

Ahead of them, Sharpnote slammed into the metal door and burst through it to the deck above. They dove out the doorway as the hall collapsed behind them. They halted as they saw the others slowly being swallowed up by the ship. Kyogen leaped out of Star Platinum's arms and ran to them. "Kujo! We need to pull everyone out of this!" She yelled to him, haphazardly tucking her daggers into her waistband.

She reached Joseph first, grabbing both his arms and trying to pull the old man out. It was like trying to lull him out of a vat of gum. In front of her, she could see Jotaro trying to do the same with Kakyoin.

"Anne! Go to the lifeboats!" She yelled, pointing in the direction she remembered they were in.

The Stand gently put Anne down and made its way to her. Sharpnote crouched down behind Joseph. Its fingers turned jagged and lengthened, fusing into a large spearpoint of crystals. It slammed both of them down into the deck, the metal screeching and ripping open underneath the force. The deck groaned as Sharpnote widened the rip, allowing Kyogen to finally help Joseph scramble out of the pit.

Kyogen heard a familiar Stand voice and loud banging from where Jotaro was. She looked to see Star Platinum finishing up a barrage of punches as Jotaro pulled both Avdol and Kakyoin out.

"Hey! Over here too! Don't forget me!" Polnareff yelled, waving his arms.

Sharpnote reached him first and did the same thing again, slamming the jagged spears of its arms down into the metal behind Polnareff and ripping a hole in it. Kyogen reached Polnareff and helped him out of the hole. As the French got to his feet, the tanker shuddered beneath them and Kyogen nearly toppled over.

"We need to get out of here!" Joseph yelled. "Where's the kid?!"

Kyogen waved at them to follow her as she began running to the boats. "I already sent her to the lifeboats! Let's go!"

The rest of them followed her as the ship shook around them. They reached the lifeboats that Anne was waiting in and Kyogen waited for the others to scramble in.

"Hey Wind! What are you doing?" Polnareff yelled. "Stop standing around!"

Kyogen looked at Sharpnote, who was on the other end where the ropes held that side of the lifeboat. She nodded and the two of them slashed the rope, vaulting into the boat as it fell down. Around her, the group was screaming as Kyogen landed harshly into the boat, narrowly avoiding the explosion on-deck. She wheezed at her back slammed into the edge of the wooden bench. Thankfully, her bag cushioned some of the force, but it was still painful nonetheless.

She swore her soul left her body as the little boat hit the sea, landing with a large spray of water that showered the occupants in it. They managed to drift far enough to witness the large ship crumple and collapse in on itself, sinking into a small wooden boat away from them. Kyogen let herself lay there for a bit as she registered the aches in her body. A missing hair tie and some back pain. Got it.

Polnareff was in her face as she slowly sat up. "Wind, do you how stupid that was? We could have died if something happened."

Kyogen winced and subconsciously shrunk back from the loud French. Sharpnote shifted as if sensing her agitation. "We had to lower the boat somehow," she rasped. "And I thought that you guys would appreciate not having to stand there and lower it as the ship self-destructed." She straightened up and winced as something in her back twinged.

"Hey! You're hurt!" Joseph pushed Polnareff back. He reached for her neck and Kyogen flinched. Joseph froze and his eyes softened. "It's alright, kid. I'm just going to check out the bruises on your neck."

"R-Right," Kyogen stuttered, gathering her hair and holding it back. She was tense as his hand rested on the junction where her neck and shoulder met, but slowly relaxed as the warmth of the Hamon flowed through her body. Joseph withdrew and Kyogen thanked him, yanking the collar of her ripped shirt closed and hugging her backpack to her. She hunched down as if to avoid the eyes boring into her, staring at the rippling waves of the water underneath her.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened back there, Wind?" Kakyoin asked curiously.

Kyogen flinched, not tearing her eyes from the water. She glanced at Anne, who had a curious look on her face. "Maybe I'll tell you later."

For a moment, Kakyoin's face turned dark, but he gave her a gentle smile. "I understand," he said.

A tense moment of silence stretched between them.

"Looks like we'll be drifting again," Avdol sighed, eyeing the setting sun. "We'll just have to pray that we get rescued and reach Singapore safely."

(Forgot to post this earlier heheh. Sorry everyone)